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

by Beverley Oakley

  “The common good? You make it sound so noble, Lissa, when the truth is that I did it for you.”

  “Me?” Lissa looked taken aback.

  “I wanted you to be able to marry Ralph. After everything you’ve ever done for me—being the mother I never had, keeping me in line when I was little and needed it, reading me stories, mending my clothes, making sure I went to sleep on a laugh and not in tears. All those things I’ve never told you, but which I only realized was the foundation of my happiness after I’d run away to London. When I made my name on the London stage, I couldn’t bear to think you were ashamed of me, and that was the reason you didn’t make contact. I had no idea you were doing what you do best—working quietly and without fuss to achieve a good end. I wanted to repay you in the best way I could, and because I thought I had nothing of importance left to lose since I’d lost Silverton and your respect— or so I thought.”

  “Oh Kitty, you really thought all that?” Impulsively, Kitty leaned forward and kissed her sister on both cheeks. “In truth, I’m far showier than you’d imagine. I wanted to be the one to shower us all in glory and so enable Ralph to wed me.”

  “But it was your sketchings that brought all of this into the open and alerted the government to the nature of Lord Debenham’s wickedness. Without your talent, none of us would be here.” Kitty indicated the petal-strewn cobbles that surrounded St Margaret’s and the rarefied, finely-dressed crowd distinguished by a more than respectable smattering of England’s Upper Ten Thousand. She smiled over her shoulder as she saw Ralph and her beloved new husband advancing toward her. “Let’s just say that finding happiness today has been a family affair.”

  Thankfully, Kitty was about to slide into obscurity, safeguarded from the hubbub by Silverton’s protective bulk, when a stately figure in half-mourning stepped in front of her.

  “Kitty, the Countess de Lieven wishes me to introduce you to her.” It was Araminta, wearing her widow’s weeds over her pregnant belly like a badge of honor. “And you too, Lissa, though she’s more interested in the extraordinary circumstances in which society can so readily embrace someone who’s made their living on the stage. Not that she said it in so many words. She’s a stickler for convention but loves knowing that she can confer the right to be accepted or not—just by her endorsement. Rather a lucky coincidence she was on more than passing good terms with Papa, which of course made it rather difficult to refuse to acknowledge you after Papa publicly accepted you.”

  Papa. Their Papa. Not so many months before he’d stood in this very church and declared to Nash and the small gathering of wedding guests—though he might have declared it to the world—that Kitty was not a suitable match for Lord Nash, and could never consider herself on an equal footing with respectable society because of the sin in which she’d been born.

  The perpetual sin to which he’d consigned her.

  It was astonishing how courting the favor of a handful of the right people could influence society as a whole.

  It seemed Araminta had turned the ignominy of Debenham’s end to her own advantage, making herself a victim and her sisters heroines who had saved society as they knew it from the chaos her husband would have imposed had he his way.

  Silverton rolled his eyes as he took in the last of this speech. “Go on, take her away to meet the countess, but I would like to spend some time with my wife on our wedding day.” He smiled fondly at Kitty, who gave his hands a quick squeeze, pulling him down for a daring kiss on the cheek.

  Lissa had assumed her look of polite disinterest that Kitty had come to realize hid so much of what she was feeling. “I can do quite well without making the acquaintance of Countess de Lieven,” she said airily, though she changed her tune when Ralph said, in the fond and jocular way Kitty had noticed swayed Lissa every time.

  “Come, my dear, it never hurts to court the good offices of those who are in a position to advance us all. I quite like the bland fare served at Almacks, but I’d much rather be able to sample it in your company.”

  So Kitty followed her vain and self-important sister to the influential Countess de Lieven, and exchanged a smile with her beloved and down-to-earth one along the way, noting that all the while Ralph’s brother hovered not so far away.

  She put her head close to Lissa’s, and whispered, “Do you suppose Araminta will lose interest in poor Lord Ludbridge before her mourning period is officially over?”

  Lissa shook her head. “I think Teddy’s slavish devotion is far more to her taste—when she needs someone dependable—than the dangerous charms of anyone more exciting. No, I believe I shall soon find myself bound even closer to our sister than you before the year is out.”

  And so, after the public endorsement conferred upon the two hitherto unacknowledged Partington ‘bastards’, Kitty and Lissa returned to their adoring husbands who whisked them into two separate carriages, at last, to take them to the palatial new residences they could now occupy as fully accepted members of the haut ton. And there they enjoyed what every bride in love looks forward to with such anticipation—learning how to please and be pleased by their husbands in the marital chamber.

  And Araminta, fueled with the success of having secured her own future through elevating the half-sisters she’d once despised, happily went home alone then waited with genuine anticipation for the secret visit of her darling Teddy, which would occur at the same dependable time of eleven p.m.

  She thought it rather a good feeling to be known for doing a worthy service, as she signed the monthly letter of credit her supposedly-dead husband relied upon to keep up a modicum of his wicked old ways in whatever den of vice he’d chosen to inhabit on the Continent as the price for keeping his life. He’d been lucky, but perhaps clever, too, in dodging the deadly blades of the water wheel before he’d swum to freedom.

  Thank the good lord that with Debenham considered dead, Araminta could hold his estates in trust for young William. He would never be able to return home unless he was prepared to accept his sentence of death.

  And if perchance the Thames or the sea disgorged some unrecognisable corpse, Araminta would find a way to identify it as her husband.

  Meanwhile, Araminta was rather looking forward to the novelty of being known for her goodness and charity, acknowledged as the architect of her sisters’ acceptance by respectable society.

  Thus transformed, a whole new world beckoned.

  Epilogue

  Sybil felt surprisingly emotional as she gazed at her two daughters, who were chatting on the steps of the church in the few minutes before the christening of Araminta’s twin daughters, Arabella and Theodosia.

  As usual, Araminta cut a dashing figure, her gown of heavy mourning a distinct contrast to her animation. Sybil thought the veiled adoration on Lord Ludbridge’s face as he waited for her a few steps farther up was hardly surprising. Most men behaved like moths to a flame when Araminta smiled in their direction. Lord Ludbridge had been loyal when Araminta had needed him, and no doubt held high hopes he’d be repaid when Araminta’s twelve months of mourning was over. Meanwhile, Hetty was looking lovelier and more serene than Sybil had ever seen her. Marriage clearly agreed with her.

  It was hard to imagine that Araminta was now a mother of three—and a widow within two years of her marriage. So much had happened since Debenham’s terrible death. The truth was that he’d not been mourned. His crimes were abominable—those that were publicly acknowledged. Stephen had told her there were many others that would not be aired in the public arena since he was not alive to defend himself.

  As a widow, Araminta had garnered far more public sympathy than Sybil would have expected, given the litany of Debenham’s misdeeds. However, her eldest daughter seemed to have a gift for turning a situation to her advantage, and influential members of society were publicly lauding her as a heroine for having survived the trials to which Debenham had no doubt subjected her.

  Astonishingly, Araminta had chosen as the godmothers of her infants, former actress
Kitty La Bijou, now Lady Silverton, and one-time governess Larissa Hazlett, now Mrs. Ralph Tunley. Sybil had been surprised at how painful she’d found the experience when Lord Partington had acknowledged the two young women as his daughters not long after Debenham’s broken body had been identified, washed out to sea several months after his death.

  She’d been equally surprised at how short-lived her angst had been after she had realized Kitty was the young girl she’d comforted during Araminta’s birthday ball and to whom she’d taken an instant liking. Sybil had been touched to learn that the words of wisdom she’d imparted during their exchange had led to Kitty renouncing Lord Silverton as her lover. And now she’d married him.

  That would not have been possible had Kitty not acted with honor, and followed through with her painful and noble act in leaving Lord Silverton completely unencumbered to wed the deserving Miss Octavia Mandelton, whom Araminta had reported was on surprisingly friendly terms with Kitty and who’d declared herself far happier living quietly in the country.

  Then there was Lissa, whom Sybil remembered had come to the house several years before supposedly seeking funds for a village school she’d wanted to set up. Sybil remembered the revulsion and anger that had surged through her veins when she’d realized the identity of the girl.

  Now she understood how the girl had suffered through no fault of her own. Humphrey had condemned her and her sister to live life as outcasts, just as he’d condemned Sybil to a cold and passionless marriage.

  When Sybil saw how deeply the girl loved her new husband, charming and genial Mr. Ralph Tunley, and her determination to make the world a better place, it gladdened Sybil’s heart to know that sometimes truly deserving people were blessed with happiness.

  The revelation that Kitty and Lissa were Lord Partington’s illegitimate daughters had been regaled with spurious glee in all manner of muckraking newspapers, as well as respectable news sheets. However, it had also been reported they’d played major roles in bringing to light Lord Debenham’s part in terrorizing the ton with his propensity to reveal their secrets, so Humphrey, Lord Partington, his wife and both legitimate and illegitimate daughters had withstood the scandal. In fact, they’d grown stronger.

  She turned as her hand was surreptitiously seized for a quick squeeze before it was almost instantly released. Stephen had just passed by to join the two sisters, but now he hesitated, then took a few steps toward Sybil as if to address her in the fond but distant manner disinterested onlookers would expect, given the nature of their formal relationship. Theirs was one pairing that would not be condoned were it to be revealed, yet its foundation of honest and enduring love gave it the stability to satisfy Sybil. For twenty years, she’d survived a marriage without love. Stephen’s love was a blessing she did not take for granted and never would. It imbued each day with a sense of wonder and enchantment. Their child, Celia, would grow up in the belief that Humphrey, Lord Partington, was her father, yet knowing the love of both her real parents. Sometimes such compromises had to be made for the happiness of all.

  Sybil stepped a little to the side as the attention turned to the squalling infants, now being borne by Kitty and Lissa into the church in the wake of Araminta and Hetty.

  “You must be very proud of your daughters,” Stephen said. “And your granddaughters, though Lord knows you barely look old enough to be a mother, let alone a grandmother.”

  Sybil rolled her eyes, unable to keep the affection out of her tone as she replied. “Yes, both of them. Araminta truly has distinguished herself by her dignity as a young widow.”

  “I can only admire the manner in which she’s refused to be tainted by her husband’s sins.” Stephen’s tone was wry. “In fact, I am full of admiration for the way in which she’s turned Debenham’s villainy to her advantage. But now, Hetty is beckoning to us. She’s blooming, isn’t she? Sir Aubrey has been a better match than I expected. Well, no secrets between them. That helps.”

  Sybil hesitated as she slowed her progress up the church steps. She glanced about her to ensure they were not overheard. “I wasn’t going to say anything before, Stephen, but as there are no secrets between us, I will tell you about Hetty’s concerns…” she cleared her throat, then added in a hurried whisper, “…regarding the paternity of a child she believes was fathered by Sir Aubrey.”

  She wasn’t surprised at Stephen’s sudden intake of breath. He sent a furtive glance over her shoulder before looking her in the eye. “Did Debenham apprise her of his suspicions?” he asked. “How would she suspect? But of course, it was the hair, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, a child she saw at a fair. The adopted son of a farmer and his wife. He had the Banks’ swathe of white hair amidst the dark. Well, suffice to say that Hetty has chosen to say nothing to Sir Aubrey as the age of the child confirms any liaison occurred prior to his marriage to Hetty. However, Hetty is sponsoring the child in secret.” She felt a great pride in her daughter, as she added, “Like Araminta, she has chosen family unity as her life’s greatest goal.”

  Gently, Stephen traced the contour of Sybil’s cheek. “Yes, it is wonderful that Araminta has embraced family unity, though I run the risk of displeasing you if I suggest that might be more from the strategic advantage it currently confers on her.” They were alone now on the church steps, the rest of the party having just passed through the doors. Very gently, he cupped her face and kissed her lips. “But you, Sybil my love, always see the best in people. You saw it in me when I was despairing for myself. You are my redeemer, and you make me better than I could ever have been had I not met you.” He dropped his hands, offering Sybil his arm instead to lead her into the church. With a smile, he added, “Araminta is the best she could hope to be for having you as her mother, and I hope she will continue to make you proud.” Gently he caged her hand with his and gave it a squeeze. “It’s because of your strength, endurance, and mother’s love that today is such a joyful day. You deserve every happiness.”

  They’d reached the top step now, and were about to pass through the large double doors to play their part in that holy ceremony that would anoint babies Arabella and Theodosia and give them validity in the eyes of the Christian Church. Stephen hesitated, his expression grave but his eyes bright with fervor as he lightly held Sybil’s hands. “And just know that I will always be here for you, Sybil darling, through the years ahead, come what may. For family unity is everything.”

  The End

  Afterword

  I hope you enjoyed the final book in this first series of four very different sisters from different walks of life.

  It may come as no surprise that the next series starts in twenty years’ time as it follows the fortunes of the various children born to the Partington girls, and to Lady Julia and Sybil.

  I happen to be one of three sisters but the sibling rivalry between Araminta, Hetty, Lissa and Kitty is purely fictional as I’ve been blessed with two warm and supportive sisters. Apart from the odd bit of hair pulling and a well-remembered case of stomach-biting that we love to rib our youngest sister about, nothing but harmony has reigned amongst us.

  If you’d like to read more of my stories, you can find me at www.beverleyoakley.com.

  Happy reading!

  About the Author

  Beverley was seventeen when she bundled up her first 500+ page romance and sent it to a publisher. Rejection followed swiftly. Drowning one’s heroine on the last page, she was informed, was not in line with the expectations of romance readers.

  So Beverley became a journalist.

  After a whirlwind romance with a handsome Norwegian bush pilot she met in Botswana's beautiful Okavango Delta, Beverley discovered what real romance was all about, saved her heroine from a watery grave in her next manuscript and published her first romance in 2009.

  Since then, she’s written more than fifteen sizzling historical romances laced with mystery and intrigue under the name Beverley Oakley.

  She also writes psychological historical mysteries, and C
olonial-Africa-set romantic suspense, as Beverley Eikli.

  With an inspiring view of a Gothic nineteenth-century insane asylum across the road, Beverley lives north of Melbourne with her gorgeous husband, two lovely daughters and a rambunctious Rhodesian Ridgeback called Mombo, named after the safari lodge where she and her husband met.

  You can read more at www.beverleyoakley.com

  www.beverleyoakley.com

  @BeverleyOakley

  AuthorBeverleyOakley

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