The Virtuous Ward - By Karla Darcy Page 0,41
he should be reasonably free of her presence or even a reminder of her existence.
He glowered across the room at an untidy pile of books on the window seat. There were flowers on the table in the center of the room, the yellow daisies a great splash of color against the warm wood tones in the rest of the room. On the carpet beside the green velvet wingchair near the fireplace was a basket of sewing and on the small table there was a crumpled pair of mittens marking the place in an opened book. The girl had made serious inroads on his private sanctum.
In actual fact, Max was constantly reminded of the girl's presence. There was not a room in the house that did not show some sign of change, with the sole exception of his bedroom. Here his eyes narrowed and he sighed in defeat as he remembered the flowers on his bedside table. Wilberforce, his valet, had announced that Miss Amity had given him the filled vase with strict instructions as to its placement. Although the little man had worn a disapproving frown at such a feminine conceit, Max noticed that the vase was never empty, fading blooms changed with Wilberforce's usual degree of efficiency.
Looking at the clock, Max was reminded of his engagement to take Honoria for a drive. He did not have the time to march out to the garden and find out for himself what was going on. On second thought he admitted he was procrastinating because he did not want to know. Resolving to get to the bottom of the puzzling scene he had witnessed, he hurried along to his bedroom. His valet awaited him, his wizened face set in disapproval at the unseemly haste of his master. Wilberforce believed that the art of dressing should be conducted in an atmosphere of dignified leisure. The little man still regretted Max's conversion to a more sober style since the dandy stage had kept the servant on his mettle.
Too tired to argue with his valet, Max put himself in Wilberforce's efficient hands and was soon dressed. Outside, his carriage was waiting and, as he climbed in, the coachman gave the horses the office to start,
Still feeling put upon by the machinations of his ward, Max glared out the window at the passing scene. Amity was working havoc on the smooth running of his household. There was something peculiar going on which could not be explained by the apparent wealth of livestock hoarded in his storeroom. Was it conceivable that he was harboring a sow, twelve piglets and a goat beneath his very roof?
"Devil take it!" he swore. "What next?"
When he had decided to sponsor the chit, he had never envisioned that it would in any way interfere with his normal way of life. He liked his bachelor comforts and the predictable events that took place in his household, he muttered. He would have an end to it, he decided. It was time to rid his household of the disturbing presence of Miss Amity Fraser. It was time for him to stop shilly-shallying and locate a respectable suitor for the girl. He would marry her off and then he could get back to his peaceful existence.
After ten minutes spent with Honoria, Max was reminded of what a restful woman she was. She was everything a lady should be, a combination that Max found soothing to his lacerated emotions. She was composed and aloof and did not chatter away, making him privy to all her thoughts and feelings. She was not forever fluttering around, smiling and joking as if life was a great joy. In fact since he had known Honoria, she had never given him a moment of worry. Just looking at the beautiful creature was balm to the soul.
Honoria's gown was the last word in fashion. Yards and yards of shimmering yellow silk billowed across the seat, giving the illusion of some golden flowerlike creature. One gloved hand held a white lace fan and the other rested atop the jeweled handle of a dainty parasol of matching yellow silk. Her blond hair was smoothed into a bun at the base of her neck and a shower of ribbons fluttered from the stiff brim of a saucy straw hat.
Max frowned at a sudden remembrance of the wild curls of his ward. He had convinced her to dress it properly and it was now restrained in a net or bound up in a coronet of braids. He