The Virtuous Ward - By Karla Darcy Page 0,2

to his plans. He had not organized much as yet but his friend's quick eye for detail should catch any glaring errors of omission in his stratagem.

"Have you made plans for the girl?" Dev asked.

"To be honest, I have just begun to formulate some sort of campaign. Endurance is twenty-one. It seems to me the proper thing would be to give the chit a season in London and hope that I can locate some poor sod to marry her and take over the responsibility for the girl. She has been well educated and is well dowered so I should have no trouble finding a suitable parti. I have sent my coach to retrieve her...."

"Really, Max," Dev interrupted. "She's not a hunting dog."

"You have not seen her to make that assumption."

"Neither have you in eleven years," Dev drawled. "Girls have a tendancy to change in that span of years."

"If you are hoping for some pink and white simpering chit to spring up before your eyes, you are doomed to disappointment. The most I can expect is that she will not set London ablaze by knocking over every candelabra she comes in contact with before I can get her married."

Dev chuckled at the description. "If you are taking her up to London, you will have to arrange for a chaperone."

"I have given that some thought," Max said, grimacing to indicate his enthusiasm for the project. "My cousin lives nearby and when I approached her, she agreed to act in that capacity. You remember Lady Hester Grassmere?"

"The Ghost of Grassmere?"

Max smiled at the childhood nickname for his cousin Hester. Dev and he had dubbed her thus for her ability to sit unnoticed in a room, swathed in grey dresses of a sameness to make her almost invisible. She spoke in a whisper and for the most part was ignored by most of the family.

"Unless your ward is a tiger, your cousin Hester will make the perfect chaperone. Lord knows she is the soul of propriety. I must confess, Max, that I am impressed with how quickly you have moved to make amends for your, if you will pardon my plain speaking, your neglect of Miss Fraser." Dev tipped an imaginary hat to his friend. "There is of course one problem. Who will sponsor the girl for the season?"

Max hesitated before he responded. A grin split his face, erasing some of the arrogance from his countenance. "I will."

Dev threw his head back, giving in to a great shout of laughter. "By gad, sir. I almost expect to hear the walls of the gambling hells tumbling down with the conversion of one of their favorite rakes to the ranks of the respectable. I wish I were going to be in London to see you bear leading the chit."

"You won't be in London?" Max asked in some surprise. "I was rather counting on you to stand as friend."

"I am always that," Dev responded. "However I shall be moldering at the stud farm at Dunton House."

"Not a repairing lease, I trust."

"No. All's well in that quarter. It is a much happier reason. To the everlasting despair of my cousin Ponsonby, my darling Jena is going to present me with an heir."

"What ho, Dev! That's splendid news indeed." Max raised his snifter in salutation. "And just how long were you going to wait to inform me of such felicitous news?"

"I was trying to find a peaceful moment in our long reminiscing."

"And Jena? Is she well?"

"Disgustingly healthy. And quite typical, the bold baggage has informed me that it is a natural process and there is no need to cosset her. To be honest she's much more worried about the brood mares on her confounded stud farm. She is busy as ever with that pet project and refuses to consider curtailing any of her activities. The exasperating minx even resists my entreaty to give up riding. If things progress as usual, I suspect my son or daughter will be born on horseback."

Max chuckled at the doting tone of his friend's voice. A smile tugged at his mouth as he recalled the turbulent beginning of the Grey Fox's marriage. "How goes your grandfather?"

"The Duke of Wayfield is ever on our doorstep. The old curmudgeon loved Jena from the first moment he saw her. If you recall it was he who set seal on the marriage and now he is content to crow over how well everything has turned out."

"I see Dickon on occasion. His girth is monumental and his taste for