forward to the evening.
If truth were told, he had been hearing about his wards on all sides for the past week. They had caught the fancy of the ton, starved as it was of novelty. And their brand of beauty always had attraction. But what he had not heard was worrying him more. There had been more than one incident when, entering
a room, he had been aware of at least one conversation abruptly halted, then smoothly resumed. Another reason to identify himself more closely with his wards. He reminded himself that three of them were
truly his responsibility and, in the circumstances, the polite world would hold him responsible for Miss Twinning as well. His duty was clear.
Admitted to Twyford House, Max paused to exchange a few words with Millwade. Satisfied that all
was running smoothly, he turned and stopped, all thought deserting him. Transfixed, he watched the Twinning sisters descend the grand staircase. Seen together, gorgeously garbed for the ball, they were quite the most heart-stopping sight he had beheld in many a year. His eyes rested with acclaim on each
in turn, but stopped when they reached Caroline. The rest of the company seemed to dissolve in a haze
as his eyes roamed appreciatively over the clean lines of her eau-de-Nil silk gown. It clung suggestively
to her ripe figure, the neckline scooped low over her generous breasts. His hands burned with the desire to caress those tantalising curves. Then his eyes locked with hers as she crossed the room to his side,
her hand extended to him. Automatically, he took it in his. Then she was speaking, smiling up at him in her usual confiding way.
"Thank you for coming. I do hope you'll not be too bored by such tame entertainment." Lady Benborough, on receiving Max's curt note informing them of his intention to accompany them to Almack's, had crowed with delight. When she had calmed, she had explained his aversion to the place.
So it was with an unexpected feeling of guilt that Caroline had come forward to welcome him. But,
gazing into his intensely blue eyes, she could find no trace of annoyance or irritation. Instead, she recognised the same emotion she had detected the very first time they had met. To add to her
confusion, he raised her hand to his lips, his eyes warm and entirely too knowing.
''Do you know, I very much doubt that I'll be bored at all?" her guardian murmured wickedly.
Caroline blushed vividly. Luckily, this was missed by all but Max in the relatively poor light of the hall
and the bustle as they donned their cloaks. Both Lady Benborough and Miriam Alford were to go,
cutting the odds between chaperons and charges. Before Max's intervention, the coach would have had
to do two trips to King Street. Now, Caroline found that Augusta and Mrs. Alford, together with Sarah and Arabella, were to go in the Twyford coach while she and Lizzie were to travel with Max. Suddenly suspicious of her guardian's intentions, she was forced to accept the arrangement with suitable grace.
As Max handed her into the carriage and saw her settled comfortably, she told herself she was a fool to read into his behaviour anything other than an attempt to trip her up. He was only amusing himself.
As if to confirm her supposition, the journey was unremarkable and soon they were entering the
hallowed precincts of the Assembly Rooms. The sparsely furnished halls were already well filled with
the usual mix of debutantes and unmarried young ladies, carefully chaperoned by their mamas in the
hope of finding a suitable connection among the unattached gentlemen strolling through the throng. It
was a social club to which it was necessary to belong. And it was clear from their reception that, at
least as far as the gentlemen were concerned, the Twinning sisters definitely belonged. To Max's
horror, they were almost mobbed.
He stood back and watched the sisters artfully manage their admirers. Arabella had the largest court
with all the most rackety and dangerous blades. A more discerning crowd of eminently eligible
gentlemen had formed around Sarah while the youthful Lizzie had gathered all the more earnest of the younger men to her. But the group around Caroline drew his deepest consideration. There were more than a few highly dangerous roués in the throng gathered about her but all were experienced and none
was likely to attempt anything scandalous without encouragement As he watched, it became clear that
all four girls had an innate ability to choose the more acceptable among their potential partners. They
also had the happy knack of dismissing the less favoured with real charm, a not inconsiderable feat.
The more he watched, the more intrigued Max became. He was about to seek clarification from his
aunt, standing beside him, when that lady very kindly answered his unspoken query.
"You needn't worry, y'know. Those girls have got heads firmly on their shoulders. Ever since they
started going about, I've been bombarded with questions on who's eligible and who's not. Even
Arabella, minx that she is, takes good care to know who she's flirting with."
Max looked his puzzlement.
"Well," explained her ladyship, surprised by his obtuseness, "they're all set on finding husbands, of course!" She glanced up at him, eyes suddenly sharp, and added, "I should think you'd be thrilled-it means they'll be off your hands all the sooner."
"Yes. Of course," Max answered absently.
He stayed by his wards until they were claimed for the first dance. His sharp eyes had seen a number
of less than desirable gentlemen approach the sisters, only to veer away as they saw him. If nothing
else, his presence had achieved that much.
Searching through the crowd, he finally spotted Darcy Hamilton disappearing into one of the salons
where refreshments were laid out.
"Going to give them the go-by for at least a week, huh?" he growled as he came up behind Lord Darcy.
Darcy choked on the lemonade he had just drunk.
Max gazed in horror at the glass in his Mend's hand. "No! Bless me, Darcy! You turned temperate?"
Darcy grimaced. "Have to drink something and seemed like the best of a bad lot." His wave indicated
the unexciting range of beverages available. ''Thirsty work, getting a dance with one of your wards."
"Incidentally-" intoned Max in the manner of one about to pass judgement.
But Darcy held up his hand. "No. Don't start. I don't need any lectures from you on the subject. And
you don't need to bother, anyway. Sarah Twinning has her mind firmly set on marriage and there's
not a damned thing I can do about it."
Despite himself, Max could not resist a grin. "No luck?"
"None!" replied Darcy, goaded. "I'm almost at the stage of considering offering for her but I can't be
sure she wouldn't reject me, and that I couldn't take."
Max, picking up a glass of lemonade himself, became thoughtful.
Suddenly, Darcy roused himself. "Do you know what she told me yesterday? Said I spent too much
time on horses and not enough on matters of importance. Can you believe it?"
He gestured wildly and Max nearly hooted with laughter. Lord Darcy's stables were known the length
and breadth of England as among the biggest and best producers of quality horseflesh.
"I very much doubt that she appreciates your interest in the field," Max said placatingly.
"Humph," was all his friend vouchsafed.
After a pause, Darcy laid aside his glass. "Going to find Maria Sefton and talk her into giving Sarah permission to waltz with me. One thing she won't be able to refuse." With a nod to Max, he returned