Free Maggie MacKeever by Sweet Vixen

company.” The smile faded. “He is not for the likes of you, miss! That rascal’s heart has never been touched by anyone. His taste is for highflyers; he’s never been known to cast so much as a glance at a green girl. And you may be thankful that it’s so!”
    But he’d glanced more than once at Tess, Clio thought unhappily. In fact, he’d made a dead set at the countess! Clio was distressed beyond measure. She might magnanimously wish for her sister a fair portion of domestic bliss, and somewhat less magnanimously wish for herself freedom from the restraints imposed by Tess and Delphine, but she in no way desired that her sister’s heart should be broken by a careless rakehell. Tess might not realize that Sir Morgan held a strong fascination for her, but Clio knew well the symptoms, having first encountered them herself at the tender age of twelve. “Oh, dear,” she murmured weakly. This arrangement of her sister’s life was going to be more difficult than she’d initially perceived. One thing was certain: Tess must be kept as long as possible unaware of Sir Morgan’s unfortunate proximity.
    “You must not believe all my mother says,” offered Giles, with an air of helpfulness and a great deal of secret mischief. “Morgan is not so black as she paints him. Were she to be entirely honest, Maman would admit that Morgan is a great favorite with her.”
    “With me, yes,” the dowager duchess repeated meaningfully. “But I’m not an inexperienced young girl. Heed my words, miss! You’ll award Sir Morgan no more attention than courtesy demands.”
    They obviously both thought her already half-smitten, and Clio could hardly explain that it was her elder sister who was so lacking in sense. “Yes, ma’am,” she replied meekly. If this wasn’t the most odious development! There was nothing for it but that Tess must wed the duke with all possible speed.
     

Chapter 6
     
    Blissfully ignorant of her sister’s schemes, Tess was enjoying a delightful afternoon. The Duke of Bellamy was the most considerate of companions, whisking her off on a tour of the Palace of Westminster, escorting her through the ancient building known as the Court of Requests, where the House of Lords met, and pointing out a tapestry representing the Spanish Armada, gift of the States of Holland to Queen Elizabeth; showing her the Great Hall which Richard II had covered with a magnificent molded and carved double hammer-beam roof; guiding her through St. Stephen’s Chapel, in which the Norman kings had made their devoirs, and the celebrated Painted Chamber in which Edward the Confessor had died; and then whisking her off to Gunther’s, the celebrated pastry cook in Berkeley Square, for an apricot tart. If Tess had any complaint to make of the proceedings, it was that Clio had inexplicably refused to accompany them. Nor, though Tess did not consider it, had young Evelyn and the faithful Nidget been privileged to join the expedition.
    “The French privateers,” continued the masterfully devious Duke of Bellamy, “have captured a staggering number of British cruisers and merchantmen. The devils seem to know the English coasts and routes of trade, the tactics of British cruisers, even the times of arrival and departure of our convoys. We lost over six hundred ships last year alone! Those plaguey privateers have grown so bold that they take their prizes in plain view of fanners on our shores—a humiliating spectacle, I assure you.”
    Tess frowned and controlled her nervous mare with practiced ease. A newcomer to intrigue, and unaware of the extremely enlightening conversation that had passed between the Duke of Bellamy and her coachman, the countess only thought it a happy coincidence that the duke should have chosen to go on horseback. “I believe,” she responded, “that as a result of Napoleon’s devices, the national economy is in a shocking state. Mills and factories have had to close down, the cost of bread has risen to near