The sound of male voices in the front hall drifted to Margaret's ears as she sat her sisters in the back parlour. With a sigh, she picked her bonnet and bade the three responded figures scattered through the room goodbye. They all looked distracted. She felt much the same. Worn out by her difficult morning and from tossing and turning half the night, tormented by a longing she had tried valiantly to ignore, she had fallen asleep in the hammock under the cherry trees. Her sisters had found her but had left her to recover, only waking her for a late lunch before her scheduled drive with their guardian.

As she walked down the corridor to the front hall, she was aware of the leaping excitement the prospect of seeing Felix Cambridge always brought her. At the mere thought of being alone with him, albeit on the box seat of a curricle in broad daylight in the middle of fashionable London, she could feel that the other Margaret Fleming taking over.

Her sisters had taken her words of the morning heart and had wisely refrained from joining her in greeting their guardian. Alone, she emerged into the hallway. In astonishment, she beheld, not one elegantly turned out gentleman, but four.

Felix, his eyes immediately drawn as if by some magic to her, smiled and came forward to take her hand. His comprehensive glance swept her face, then dropped to her bonnet, dangling loosely by its ribbons from one hand. His smile broadened, bringing a delicate colour to her cheeks. "I'm glad you're ready my dear. But where are your sisters?"

Margaret blinked. "They're in the back parlour," she answered, turning to greet Daniel Hammington.

Felix turned. "Millard, escort these gentlemen to the back parlour."

Millard, not in Rickshaw's class, looked slightly scandalized. But an order from his employer was not to be disobeyed. Margaret, engaged in exchanging courtesies with the gentlemen involved, was staggered. But before she could remonstrate, her cloak appeared about her shoulders and she was firmly propelled out the door. She was constrained to hold her fire until Felix had dismissed the urchin holding the bays and climbed up beside her.

"You're supposed to be our guardian! Don't you think it's a little unconventional to leave three gentlemen with your wards unchaperoned?"

Giving his horses the office, Felix chuckled. "I don't think any of them need chaperoning at present. They'd hardly welcome company when trying to propose."

"Oh! You mean they've asked?"

Felix nodded, then glanced down. "I take it you're still happy with their suits?"

"Oh, yes! It's just that...well, the others didn't seem to hold out much hope." After a pause, she asked, "Weren't you surprised?"

He shook his head. "Daniel I've been expecting for weeks. After this morning, Henry was a certainty. And Francis's been more sternly silent than I've ever seen him before. So, no, I can't say I was surprised." He turned to grin at her. "Still, I hope your sisters have suffered as much as their swains—it's only fair."

She was unable to repress her answering grin, the dimple by her mouth coming delightfully into being. A subtle comment of Felix's had the effect of turning the conversation into general fields. They laughed and discussed, occasionally with mock seriousness, a number of tonnish topics, then settled to determined consideration of the Twyford House ball.

This event had been fixed for the following Tuesday, five days distant. More than four hundred guest were expected. Thankfully, the ballroom was huge and the house would easily cater for this number. Under Lady Hillsborough's guidance, the Fleming sisters has coped with all the arrangements, a fact known to Felix. He had a bewildering array of questions for Margaret. Absorbed with answering these, she paid little attention to her surroundings.

"You don't think," she said, airing a point she and her sisters had spent much time pondering, "that, as it's not really a proper come-out, in that we've been about for the entire Season and none of us is truly a débutante, the whole thing might fall a little flat?"

Felix grinned. "I think I can assure you that it will very definitely not be flat. In fact," he continued, as if pondering a new thought, "I should think it'll be one of the highlights of the Season."

Margaret looked her question but he declined to explain.