Margaret was surprised that Felix had remained at the Assembly Rooms for so long. She lost sight of him for a while, and worked hard at forcing herself to pay attention to her suitors, for he was only to be expected heir guardian would seek less tame entertainment elsewhere. But then his tall figure reappeared at the side of the room. He seemed to be scanning the multitude, then, over a sea of heads, his eyes met hers. Margaret fervently hopes the peculiar shock which went through her was not reflected in her countenance. After a moment, unobtrusively, he made his way to her side.

Under cover of the light flirtation she was engaged in with an ageing baronet, Margaret was conscious of the sudden acceleration of her heartbeat and the constriction that seemed to be affecting her breathing. Horrendously award if her guardian's blue gaze, she felt her nervousness grow as he approached despite her efforts to remain calm.

But, when he gained her side and bowed over her hand in an almost bored way, uttering the most commonplace civilities and engaging her partner in a discussion of some sporting event, the anticlimax quickly righted her mind for her.

Quite how it was accomplished she could not have said, but Felix succeeded in excusing then to her court, on the grounds that he had something to discuss with his ward. Finding herself on his arm, strolling apparently randomly down the room, she turned to him and asked, "What was it you wished to say to me?"

He glanced down at her and she caught her breath. That devilish look was back in his eyes as they rested on her, warming her through and through. What on earth was he playing at?

"Good heavens, my ward. And I thought you up to all the rigs. Don't you know a ruse when you hear it?"

The tones in his voice washed languorously over Margaret, leaving a sense of relaxation in their wake. She made a grab for her fast-disappearing faculties. Interpreting his remark to mean that his previously bored attitude had also been false, Margaret was left wondering what the present reality meant. She made a desperate bid to get their interaction back on an acceptable footing. "Where are we going?"

Felix smiled. "We're on our way to see Lady Humphrey."

"Why?"

"Patience, sweet Margaret," came the reply, all the more courageous for its tone. "All will be revealed forthwith."

They reached Lady Humphrey's side where she stood just inside the main room.

"There you are, Twyford!"

The Duke of Twyford smoothly presented his ward. Her ladyship's prominent eyes rested on the curtsying Margaret, then, as the younger woman rose, widened with a suddenly arrested expression. She opened her mouth to ask the question but if the tip of her tongue but caught His Grace's eye and, reluctantly swallowing her curiosity, said, "My dear Miss Fleming. Your guardian has requested you to be given permission to waltz and I have no hesitation in granting it. And, as he is here, I present the Duke as a suitable partner."

With considerable effort, Margaret managed to school her featured to impassivity. Luckily, the musicians struck up at that moment, so that she barely had time to murmur her thanks to Lady Humphrey before Felix swept her on to the floor, leaving her ladyship, intrigued, staring after them.

Margaret struggles to master the unnerving sensation of being in her guardian's arms. He was holding her closer than strictly necessary, but, as they twirled down the room, she realized that to everyone else they presented a perfect picture of the Duke of Twyford doing the pretty by his eldest ward. Only she was close enough to see the disturbing glint in his blue eyes and hear the warmth in his tone as he said, "My dear ward, what a very accomplished dancer you are. Tell me, what other talents do you have that I've yet to sample?"

For the life of her, Margaret could not tear her eyes from his. She heard his words and understood their meaning but her brain refused to react. No shock, no scandalized response came to her lips. Instead, her mind was completely absorbed with registering the unbelievable fact that, Felix Cambridge had every intention of seducing her. His desire was clear in the heat of his blue, blue gaze, in the way his hand at her back seemed to burn through the fine silk of her gown, in the gentle caress of his long fingers across her knuckles as he twirled her about the room under the long noses of the biggest gossips in London.