Lady Unveiled - The Cuckold's Conspiracy (Daughters of Sin Book 5)

by Beverley Oakley

  “My darling Teddy, I held this party purely so I had an excuse to invite you, and now you’ve made my birthday wish come true by being the first and arriving when the others are down by the river.” She held both his hands in hers, then raised them to kiss his fingertips as they communed by the bushes tucked away near the portico. “No, do not blush for we are unobserved. Oh, but I have missed you.”

  “As I have you, Lady Debenham,” he murmured, and Araminta laughed, feeling happier than she could remember.

  “There’s no need for you to be so formal. We are well away from prying eyes.”

  “But your husband—”

  “Is with my mother feeding the ducks, and will be only too pleased to welcome you when he returns. In the meantime, I am proxy to my parents and husband, and it is my desire that you accompany me on a short walk. I shall take you to see Papa. Very correct, yes, but we shall go via the pinery where no one will see us.”

  Teddy, she noticed with pleasure, seemed rather overwhelmed by the force of her reception, but he was certainly amenable when she pressed him against the glass of the hothouse and twined her arms about his neck. For they were well hidden by the leafy foliage of the greenery, and Araminta’s desire was clearly matched by his own.

  “Darling girl,” he murmured between kisses. “I never expected to get a greeting like this.”

  Unfortunately, their trysting was cut short by the cries of Jane on the other side of the door, exclaiming that more guests had arrived and there was not a soul to greet them.

  Reluctantly, Araminta smoothed her hair and dress and emerged onto the portico steps to do her duty, while Teddy continued into the garden where she directed him to meet with her father who was in the potting shed.

  This time, it was Lord Silverton issuing out of his carriage whose arm Araminta took in coy pretense of being delighted that he’d arrived a day earlier than expected.

  “My betrothed was delayed, but arrangements are that she will arrive here tomorrow in time for the ball before the theatrical entertainment.” He gazed with admiration around Araminta’s lovely home. “I don’t wonder you chose to languish here awhile. This is a most charming neck of the woods. My ancestral seat is very cold and draughty by comparison.”

  “Miss Mandelton will supply the woman’s touch needed, no doubt.” Araminta conducted him into the drawing room while his trunk was carried upstairs. “I am so looking forward to meeting her. She must be very beautiful and accomplished to have earned your especial favor, my lord, when the debutantes were falling over themselves to be your partner in the waltz, I couldn’t help noticing at Lady Garvey’s ball last week.”

  Naturally, she wasn’t going to mention the London actress with whom she’d heard he was now publicly linked, for, of course, she should know nothing about that. Actually, just the thought of Kitty La Bijou made her feel ill, reminding her again of her necklace and Debenham’s angry protests that he’d get to the bottom of how it had left Araminta’s possession and emerged around Miss Bijou’s neck.

  His words just brought back nightmarish memories of that frightful night, when she’d given birth too early after Miss Bijou had taken her to the hovel of that dreadful woman, Mrs. Mobbs. The occasion had ended as well as could be expected, and it was a huge relief to be reassured that Miss Bijou remained in ignorance of what had occurred, and for Araminta to learn that, in fact, the actress had gained possession of the necklace through other channels, though she was not exactly sure of the details. It was, however, a natural assumption that Mrs. Mobbs had sold it to obtain the funds required to see that the child Araminta had given birth to too early was brought up in comfort.

  “Miss Mandelton is a very deserving and admirable young lady.” Lord Silverton had paused so long Araminta had forgotten what they were talking about. She laughed softly. “Deserving and admirable are not the epithets I would choose to be remembered by.”

  “You could not be more different from Miss Mandelton, I assure you,” he murmured, and Araminta raised her eyebrows, surprised at his tone but leaving the subject as he appeared not to wish to dwell on the young lady.

  But then her mama and the rest of that party emerged from the trees to the east of the lake where poor Edgar had drowned, and there was Cousin Stephen playing with baby Celia, throwing her up in the air while the others looked on and laughed.

  Really, Araminta had no idea why people made such a fuss of babies since they didn’t do anything agreeable. But it was easy to smile for she could hear Teddy conversing with her father nearby, and now they both arrived at the top of the stairs outside where she was gazing out at the others.

  She smiled even more and reassured him appropriately when Teddy remarked, “It was very good of you to sacrifice the pleasure of enjoying the children with the others and instead greet the guests. Are you sure you’re not cold?”

  For the first time since Araminta could remember, the house was bursting with good cheer, and Araminta couldn’t wait for Teddy to see her in her new silver and blue sarcenet gown with its lavishly-embroidered bodice and hem festooned with roses. The evening promised to be balmy, and she’d already decided upon a very diverting walk on which she planned to take him. The summer house would be the perfect trysting place, though it had bad memories for Hetty, who’d stood on the banks of the little lake and screamed her distress at seeing Edgar’s upturned boat near the island, and then Edgar’s body and a thrashing Lady Julia dragged to shore by Cousin Stephen. That was barely two years ago, yet it seemed an eternity now.

  She shuddered at the memory, glad that she’d never been forced to endure, socially, dreadful Lady Julia’s company since then, though she’d heard rumors that she and her husband spent increasing amounts of time apart since she’d done her duty and provided him with three sons. Araminta didn’t think she’d ever met a more scheming, conniving piece of work in her life than the wife of Sir Archie Ledger.

  Chapter 5

  Silverton was glad when Lady Debenham dropped the subject of his intended, and he was able to move on to greet the rest of the party. He wasn’t at all sure it was a good idea to meet Octavia here, but apparently Lady Debenham had already invited her, and Octavia, who rarely enjoyed social invitations, had been in transports.

  The normally placid Octavia seemed to be in transports over everything if her letters told the truth. When she wasn’t waxing lyrical over the cheeky exploits of her beloved King Charles Spaniel, Poppet, she constantly credited Silverton with gilding her future, which made him feel ill with guilt.

  “Were it not for your immense gallantry, I would have been destined to molder into an early grave through boredom and lack of appreciation, but you have given me something worthwhile to which to aspire,” she had written in her last letter. “Not only will I endeavor to be the worthiest of wives, but at last I can make a difference and continue your mother’s legacy of providing hope and opportunity to so many, including those who toil on your estates.”

  Oh, Miss Octavia was the worthiest of women and no doubt she’d be true to every word she penned. Silverton’s mother was finding it physically taxing to carry out the modest charity work she had long enjoyed, but by all accounts, Octavia was with her daily to expedite the aging beauty’s various whims. At least once a week Silverton received a long letter from the dowager telling him how pleasingly and modestly her future daughter-in-law conducted herself and assisted Lady Silverton in virtually every activity these days.

  Octavia’s pleasure and gratitude were heavy burdens for Silverton to bear, when all he could dream about was being wrapped in Kitty’s loving embrace. Dear God, he didn’t know a man could love so deeply.

  At least he would meet Octavia on neutral ground. That was, perhaps, some solace, for if she suspected his heart was less engaged than she’d claimed she required for their marriage to take place, he could make a better show of appearing the devoted husband-to-be here than he could in the midst of London revels where he was forever in a fever of impatience to be reunited with
Kitty after each Covent Garden show.

  “Silverton, glad you could make it.” Stephen Cranborne clapped him on the shoulder, matching his steps to his as he was ushered up the portico steps while a flurry of servants attended to his luggage. “I hope your mother is well.”

  Silverton nodded. Before he’d left to visit his estate in Norfolk’s north, he’d mentioned to Cranborne that his mother had taken a mild turn; however, Octavia had reassured him all was well. So it was hardly surprising Cranborne directed his inquiries after his betrothed.

  Upon hearing Miss Mandelton’s name, Araminta’s sister, Hetty—Lady Banks—removed herself from her husband’s side to say, “I’ve heard so much about Miss Mandelton’s goodness. I can’t wait to meet her. She can be assured of a warm welcome here, for I believe she’s very shy. You’ve known her forever, haven’t you?”

  “We grew up together, yes.” Silverton hoped he’d injected sufficient warmth into his voice. “And thank you for your kind words.”

  As soon as Hetty moved away, Cranborne put his head close to Silverton’s, pretending more small talk perhaps, when his words were full of portent. “Have you heard anything from Debenham pertaining to the Princess Caroline?”

  Silverton raised his eyebrows in inquiry and Cranborne, with a glance over his shoulder to ensure the rest of the party continued somewhere behind them, went on, “Tunley tells me he’s been reliably informed that Lord Beecham, a fairweather associate of Debenham’s, has on several occasions mentioned the name of our Regent’s most despised wife. Suspected plans are afoot to publicly discredit her, giving the Regent grounds for divorce.”

  “I thought she’d provided sufficient grounds without anyone’s help.”

  Cranborne gave a short laugh. “That may be, but we have our suspicions that certain individuals may gain a great deal from ensuring that her fall from public approval is as thorough as it can possibly be. She has been living abroad, but during her next visit to London, it is thought some public humiliation is in the wind. Something to air in the newspapers to give the Regent greater grounds for following his inclination to be rid of her. It’s just the sort of havey-cavey affair Debenham likes to dabble in—politics and the chance to grist the mill. Has Debenham let anything slip?”

  “I’ve fallen out of favor with Debenham.” Silverton lowered his voice even more as he passed through the opened double doors at the top of the house, flanked by two footmen. “He suspects I’m not the friend he once thought me to be. He’s more than returned the favor. Though he would deny it, I know he was behind the attempt to discredit me through the reappearance of some ill-advised letters I sent to Lady Harvey some years ago. Fortunately, it came to nothing. I suspect he’s behind a few other extortion attempts I’ve recently had wind of.” He sighed. He was weary of his complicated life suddenly. A woman he was obliged through family obligation to marry, and a number of nasty blackmail cases involving high profile members of society, had sapped his energy. “Perhaps this weekend will go some way toward restoring the dubious trust we once shared. Sufficiently, at least, for us to go gaming.” He gave a significant nod. Gaming was one activity where Debenham was guaranteed to let his guard down.

  “Just as it will be a wonderful opportunity for you and Miss Mandelton to be reunited after so many months apart. How many has it been since you last saw her?” Cranborne raised his voice so that their conversation floated convivially in the air.

  “Six.” Six months, Silverton thought after Cranborne had left his side and he was ushered into the drawing room to take refreshment with the rest of the family. Those six months had been the happiest of his life as he’d become entranced by the playful, flirtatious Miss Kitty La Bijou whose rescue had become a surprising addendum to the sober life he’d planned following his formal offer of marriage to Miss Mandelton.

  Duty and doubt swirled through his head as he sipped the amber liquid Lord Partington pressed into his hand. Then Kitty’s lovely, smiling face seemed to coalesce as he held his glass up to the light in contemplation of the future and of Octavia’s arrival in the morning.

  His heart hitched, and his groin ached as desire coursed through him. However much he tried to be honorable, he knew he could never give up the delightful, charming, and utterly enchanting Miss Kitty La Bijou.

  The following tomorning, not far away, and unbeknownst to Kitty and Silverton how close they were to one another, Kitty clutched her shawl more closely at her throat and put her head down as she hurried through the small country town’s market square. She wasn’t sure whether the churning in her belly was due to nerves at the possibility of being recognized by her father or someone else she knew, or possibly running into her mother.

  Why, oh why, was she feeling so afraid? She could get through her lines on stage without being recognized, surely? She’d be taking on the role of another person. Tonight’s performance should be no different to performing on a London stage in front of thousands. She swallowed, and her palms felt clammy as she acknowledged that tonight’s audience would include her father. Her knees literally buckled with fear.

  In London, she was never fearful. She marched about with her head held high, proud to be recognized and acknowledged with a nod or a flourishing bow. So many in London knew her face and her name. She was London’s most celebrated actress.

  But here?

  Why should she suddenly be reduced once again to the frightened, downtrodden village child she’d always felt herself in the shadows of these very elms? Shouldn’t she be lording it over those who might have once shunned her but who would now see her as she now was—the celebrated actress Kitty La Bijou?

  It was an irony that shame had driven her to London. She’d left her village a pure and virtuous young woman— but reviled because of her illegitimacy— however, only after she’d actually committed the so-called crimes of becoming an actress and a kept woman, had she received the adulation that was continually leveled at her these days.

  Well, she would do it all again, she decided, raising her head and clenching her teeth with determination. And even though she was within walking distance of the house at the end of the bridge where she’d grown up, she would not go and see her mother. She doubted her mother would want to see her either.

  She was crossing the village green, when a burst of frenzied yapping caused her to stop and turn to see a young woman standing by a stagecoach by the local tavern, holding a small dog in her arms. Kitty, who loved animals, was just contemplating whether to go over when the little creature sprang out of its mistress’s arms and bolted across the village green. It brushed past Kitty’s ankles and disappeared through the hedgerows. Impulsively, Kitty hurried after it, finding a break in the hedge, while the young lady’s plaintive cries could be heard in the distance entreating “Poppet” to “come back!”

  As Kitty drew closer, she could see the small dog in the distance, dancing about some ducks by the edge of a small pond. She picked up her skirts and increased her pace.

  It was a sweet little King Charles Spaniel she saw upon coming closer, with devilry in its large, chocolate brown eyes. Of course, the ducks had the advantage of being able to swim, much to the frustration of their would-be playmate.

  Kitty had always wanted a pet dog. Lord Nash had never particularly liked them, but Silverton was very fond of dogs and had promised they would have one, together.

  Kitty realized that the young lady who’d lost her traveling companion was in a difficult position in an unfamiliar town. She’d not been dressed for a country ramble, whereas Kitty didn’t mind risking a bit of mud on her skirts if it meant doing a good turn. Especially one that involved a puppy.

  When the ducks had progressed far out of reach, the spaniel finally started paying attention to Kitty, who’d reached within a few feet of it, and when Kitty proffered the piece of bun she’d kept from her lunch for the purpose of feeding the ducks, it was easy to entice the puppy into her arms.

  “Here’s your little friend,” she said with a smile a
s she returned the runaway to the young lady who looked like she’d been crying. “A little muddy, I’m afraid, so perhaps I should put him straight into your carriage.”

  “If he’s muddy Aunt Bertha will be most put out!” The young lady appeared positively anguished at such a scenario. “I can’t possibly do that. She didn’t want me to travel with Poppet, but as she goes everywhere with me, I couldn’t possibly have left her on such a journey as this one.”

  Kitty saw her jump as a gravelly voice full of disapproval could be heard from the waiting carriage. “Octavia! What are you doing? Come here, now! I’m tired and hungry, and we haven’t all day.”

  Clearly, the young lady was in terror of her guardian, so Kitty went up to the window and said sweetly, “It’s my fault I’m holding her up, ma’am. I fear I frightened the little dog out of the young lady’s arms and it ran into the mud.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Octavia, girl! I said you weren’t to bring that creature in the first place, and if it’s covered with mud it will have to stay behind.”

  Kitty took up a position of solidarity with her new friend. She looked into the window again and said quickly, “It won’t take a moment to get the puppy cleaned up, and then I know where the nicest Eccles tarts in the whole district can be found. Do let me fetch you a couple.”

  Before the young lady had time to object, Kitty hurried past her, indicating for her to follow her to the water trough in front of The Black Swan. The young lady’s Aunt Bertha had looked formidable and, given her girth, would probably be ameliorated by a couple of nice tarts, which really were acclaimed in the area.

  “Let me do that,” she said, taking back the muddy little creature and swishing its feet in the pool of water. The young lady really looked as if she didn’t quite know what to do. Clearly, traveling with that old tartar was a terrifying business.

  “But your dress.”