Now she narrowed her eyes as she wondered if he could be making a more literal reference to this “other” family. This second secret family he was unable to protect and fund as he did his legitimate one?
Without warning she was visited by a memory of the young woman who’d visited The Grange several months earlier on the pretext of finding favor for a new school for girls. She’d borne an uncanny resemblance to Araminta. Of course, she could not question her father at the time but as he farewelled this young woman, Hetty had heard him say under his breath that she’d been wrong to come to the house.
Araminta sniffed. “Whatever is required of me, Papa, I shall do it gladly.” She broke off, a dazzling smile dispersing her air of tragedy. “Why, here’s Sir Aubrey! What a coincidence. Papa, this is a wonderful opportunity for you to amend your opinion. Good afternoon, Sir Aubrey.”
Araminta inclined her head demurely while Hetty, beside her, hung back in horror, praying that her sister’s glorious smile and the floral festooning of her hat would be sufficient to render her invisible.
Dear Lord, this had to be the stuff of her greatest nightmares. In a crowded ballroom she could have slipped away but here, in the street and hemmed in by her family, her real identity was never more apparent.
As usual, Araminta stole the attention with her busy chatter. Hetty bent down on the pretext of adjusting her boot. When she rose it was to find herself staring fully into Sir Aubrey’s surprised then horrified face.
“Sir Aubrey,” she acknowledged, making a small curtsy, her shame weighing her down so heavily she was surprised she was able to rise.
Araminta, still chattering, did not seem to notice that her handsome potential suitor had eyes only for Hetty. “My father is down from The Grange for a few days attending to business. His arrival last night was quite a surprise.”
“Quite a surprise.” Sir Aubrey’s echo was lackluster.
Lady Partington filled the awkward silence. “I believe you hail from Hampshire, Sir Aubrey. My cousin is on familiar terms with members of your family. Mr. and Mrs. Dorian Waddington.”
“You refer to my aunt and uncle. Quiet people who don’t seek out London revels as I do, my lady.” There was a twist to his mouth. Almost a warning, Hetty might have imagined, that hinted at the danger he posed. That he enjoyed living up to his reputation.
Lady Partington raised her eyebrows at his less than friendly tone. “So you enjoy London then?”
“There’s so much to see and do and experience, I don’t know where to start,” gushed Araminta. “Of course, an unmarried young lady is very restricted.”
“Indeed.”
The word was accompanied by a short but very well-aimed look at Hetty who, quailing, dropped her gaze to her half-kid boots. She wished the pavement would open up and she’d disappear into a puff of smoke, never to suffer the consequences of this terrible, terrible conversation.
Clapping her hands, Araminta raised a bright face. “I hear you’ve acquired a new phaeton, Sir Aubrey. You will no doubt be looking for any opportunity to put it through its paces? Perhaps this afternoon?”
Her bold inquiry received a lukewarm response, though Sir Aubrey clearly felt good manners made it incumbent to offer an invitation.
“Then Hetty will accompany her sister.” Lord Partington looked dark. “I will not have tongues wagging.”
Araminta simpered. “Wagging tongues? Oh, Papa, you are funny.”
Hetty noticed that Sir Aubrey seemed to find this as funny as her father. The thunderous scowl on his face was not a good sign.
“In fact, Stephen shall accompany both you girls, and you may take it in turns to drive around the park.” Lord Partington’s frown deepened.
There was apparently no argument to be had about this and Araminta, despite her initial cajoling, was left with a petulant lower lip until she decided it was no doubt wise to end the walk with her usual charm.
“Sir Aubrey is fantastically rich,” she gushed once he had made a polite bow and departed with the trite and clearly forced words that he was looking forward to their meeting in several hours. “And he’s in line for a title if his cousin doesn’t sire an heir—which it’s highly likely he won’t as he’s ancient. Fifty, I believe.”
Her mother cut her off, saying in brittle tones, “So you would risk your happiness for the sake of your position?” Her pursed mouth trembled. “So that you can dress in ermine and silk rather than commoner stuff? So that you can drive around in a crested carriage?”
Araminta looked surprised before muttering, “I would only risk my happiness if I failed to hold him, Mother, and I’m cleverer than that.” Her smile did not reach her eyes and there was a strange note to her voice when she added, “Do not underestimate what I know of the world.”
“Neither your mother nor I would do such a thing.” There was still no sign of Lord Partington’s good humor. He put a heavy hand upon Hetty’s shoulder, adding, “Though we sometimes wish you were a little less worldly and more like your sister. Hetty will make a sensible match, for she will be ruled by her head, not her heart, and be the happier for it. Think on that, Araminta. I say, Hetty, you’re suddenly very pale.”
“I…I don’t know what’s come over me.” In fact, Hetty wondered if she’d survive the walk home. “I must lie down.”
“You look worse than Banquo’s ghost, Hetty!” Araminta exclaimed. “I don’t think you’ll be well enough for a ride in Sir Aubrey’s phaeton after all. Well, we should turn back now anyway since I must decide upon my carriage dress.”
Her self-absorbed chatter was the only bright note on their return journey. “I’d planned to wear this one for my promenade with Sir Aubrey but as he’s already seen it, I shall impress him in my coquelicot. This one is rather demure. What do you think, Hetty? Do you think Sir Aubrey is the kind of gentleman to prefer boldness or shall I in fact wear my simple sprigged muslin?”
“Oh, I wish you would, darling.” Her mother sighed. “You know, girls, Humphry, I’m afraid I really am not feeling quite the thing either. Hetty, perhaps you and I should both lie down when we return.”
“No doubt, my dear, you’ll be feeling well enough to entertain Cousin Stephen when he arrives to take Araminta.” Hetty noticed his odd tone. Lord Partington sent his wife a piercing look. “By all means, send a note ‘round to him. I’ve no doubt he will oblige. Meanwhile, I shall call on an acquaintance at the Inns of Court.”
“How nice, Humphry,” said Lady Partington gaily. “And yes, I’m sure I will be quite well enough to entertain Cousin Stephen. Hetty, we shall have a lovely coze while Jane sees that Araminta is as dazzling for Sir Aubrey as she needs to be.” She paused. “His family are respectable people but I am nevertheless concerned about these rumors, Hetty, unsubstantiated as they are. I heard Lord Nugent say that Sir Aubrey’s political aspirations have gained no traction on account of this smear upon his name. Araminta, are you certain you wish to further your acquaintance with the gentleman when there are so many others dangling after you?”
“Oh, I do.” Araminta leveled a determined gaze upon Hetty, who thought she was going to be ill on the spot.
What could she do? Her worst nightmare was being compounded by her second worst nightmare. Sir Aubrey had discovered her real identity and now Araminta was about to focus the full force of her determined charm upon him. Hetty hadn’t a hope. If, as was remotely possible, he offered for her out of honor for having defiled her, he’d despise her forevermore. But, as was more likely, he would be as most men and wilt before Araminta’s deadly charm, the moment Hetty reminded him he was not to blame for her deception.
Later, as she worked at her embroidery, she went over her options. She wished she could pour out everything to her mother, who sat beside her stitching a tiny garment for her new baby. Lady Partington, however, seemed not in the mood for conversation, though she rallied surprisingly when Cousin Stephen joined them.
“You’re early.” She smiled warmly. “Araminta will not be
down for a while yet. You know how she is when she wants to impress, and indeed, she wishes to impress Sir Aubrey. Won’t you have some tea?”
Cousin Stephen waved away her attempts at playing hostess, rather like a mother hen, Hetty thought. “The teapot is heavy and leaning over like that isn’t good in your condition, Lady Sybil.” When he saw Hetty’s look he added somewhat sheepishly, “I’m forever in your mother’s debt. I would so hate to see her come to harm on my account.”
“Pouring tea?”
Clearing his voice, Stephen changed the subject. “I’m also reluctant to countenance this carriage ride. Araminta should not embroil herself with Sir Aubrey given his reputation. Who knows what she’ll get up to when she has him alone in his phaeton.” He grinned at Hetty. “You, I am not worried about. Hetty, are you sure you’re not well enough to accompany your sister after all?”
Hetty sighed. “I’ll go.”
It was in this mood of resigned despair that she changed her own dress, barely conscious of what Jane laid out for her, her mind roiling with confusion.
Nothing was as it seemed. Her father apparently teetered on the verge of ruin. She was burdened by a terrible secret. And her mother and cousin seemed suddenly far too fond of one another.
Jane put her head around the door, her expression sympathetic. “Miss Hetty, you are poorly, aren’t you? Let me fetch you something.”
Hetty shook her head as she sank onto the dressing table stool. “Just brush my hair, please, Jane. You have such a soothing touch.”
“That’s nicer than what your sister can come up with, miss, when she wants cosseting.”
No doubt Araminta had offended Jane once again.
Jane picked up the brush. “I wish Miss Araminta would stay clear of that fearful Sir Aubrey.”
Hetty took the plunge. “He’s a gentleman, a good man, Jane, and I intend to furnish proof that your Jem’s master, Lord Debenham, has made it his mission to blacken Sir Aubrey’s reputation by falsifying his account of what was in Lady Margaret’s death letter.” She turned when Jane’s brush strokes faltered, saying eagerly, “Jem promised to show me the letter when we arranged to meet.”
“Oh miss!” Jane dropped the brush and clapped her hand to her mouth. “You never said anything to him, did ye? Oh, miss, now he’ll know it were me what told his secret. He won’t ever forgive me.” When she began to cry, Hetty didn’t know what to do. She felt guilty for Jane’s distress yet fired with the zeal that justice would serve them all in the end.
“It’s all right, Jane,” she reassured her. “I told him he’d be handsomely rewarded. And he shall be.”
“He’s guilty of a crime and now he’ll pay for it.” Jane was sobbing now. “And I’ll pay for it too. I swore I’d say nuffink to no one but then when I heard you and Miss Araminta talking I couldn’t stay silent.” She let out her breath in a whoosh of reproach. “Oh, Miss Hetty, I wish you hadn’t told him.”
Hetty couldn’t meet her eye. She prayed Jane and Jem would not be added to her growing list of regrets.
“Please lay out my new muslin, Jane. I shan’t save it for tomorrow afternoon’s musical soiree as I’d planned.”
Too much hinged on this afternoon’s expedition and she needed to look her most innocent and charming.
There was so much she had to put to rights. Whether she possessed the power of allure and words to work a miracle, only time would tell.
* * * * *
Sir Aubrey was not in a pretty mood as he flicked the ribbons over his pair of handsome bays. This should have been a proud moment. Right now, by this morning’s calculations, he should have been a man who’d set himself up nicely. Just the right horseflesh and equipage to cut a dash and stir the blood out in the fresh air before returning home to sweet, undemanding domesticity.
Undemanding domesticity. It’s what he’d envisaged would be the foundation of his first marriage, fool that he was for not considering the ramifications of marrying a woman rumor had it was mad for her cousin.
Arrogance? Innocence.
He rather thought that could excuse it. He’d never experienced the pangs of love or even a particularly strong desire before the necessity arose to take a wife. A marriage was a contract of expediency. This had been so well and truly drummed into him he did not think to question it.
When he’d met Margaret, he’d been struck first by her pretty face and sweet nature. With no angst he’d looked forward to a long and fruitful partnership. He knew men took mistresses when the unions with their wives proved unhappy but the mere thought of Margaret had stirred his loins. Her feelings, he did not take into account. Margaret’s father agreed with alacrity to the contract and Sir Aubrey didn’t think to wonder if she had objections, callow youth that he’d been.
When Margaret lay cold in the ground, ruling out the possibility of reconciliation that had long sustained him, Sir Aubrey realized her death had created a vacuum that would be filled with pain and loneliness unless he found a long-term mistress, for he was not a man who would consider satisfying his sexual needs with a string of meaningless encounters.
With great deliberation, therefore, he’d set about choosing a mistress as far removed from Margaret as was possible.
Jezebel. What a beauty. He was an object of envy for snaring such a rare gem. But with her beauty came a nature that was feisty, demanding and ungrateful.
His life became even more complicated as the rumors surrounding his wife’s death grew. He heard it whispered that Margaret had taken her life because he’d driven her to it. He knew Debenham fed the flames, that he whispered “traitor” and hinted Sir Aubrey had had some involvement in Spencean activities, including the plot to assassinate Lord Castlereagh.
He’d assumed such talk would be dismissed in the absence of proof.
He’d been wrong. Debenham had influential friends and mud stuck.
Frustrated, Sir Aubrey had diverted his energies toward activities that were venal and self-serving rather than the lucrative and mentally rewarding positions within government he’d left his life as a country squire to pursue.
Meeting the two Miss Partingtons this morning was yet another betrayal. More proof that human beings were treacherous creatures and few of them—especially shy, innocent debutantes—what they seemed.
He heaved in a breath as he approached the trio that was to be his afternoon’s entertainment. The gentleman among them, Stephen Cranbourne, eyed him with the suspicion of someone who knows courtesy requires that he be civil to an adversary whose soul is black with sin. His look suggested he was waiting for an opportunity to prove it. The dark-haired and most striking of the two young ladies simpered up at him with transparent design. Sir Aubrey had a fortune and would likely as not inherit a title. Miss Partington was brash and bold enough not to concern herself with his apparently dangerous reputation.
Her pale and unassuming sister was the enigma. Beside Miss Araminta Partington, no one looked twice at Miss Henrietta in a ballroom crowded with beauties.
And yet she was the one who had captured his heart. Captivated him.
He tried not to look at her while he considered the question. Had she really captivated him? Until this morning she’d been but a business transaction. He’d bought her affections and her exclusivity and he’d thought confidently that his physical, and to an extent emotional, involvement were not matters that need concern him unduly until he was ready to move on.
As he pulled on the reigns and drew up beside the waiting party, his confusion grew. To what purpose had his Henrietta—or rather Miss Henrietta—deceived him? It was unfathomable and Sir Aubrey was not someone who liked enigmas. Had she thought to force him to the altar by declaring publicly he’d taken her virtue?
Was she in fact a minion of Lord Debenham’s?
To look at the downcast set of her features, her slumped shoulders and patent discomfort and embarrassment, he would countenance neither of these things.
“Hetty and I shall wait here in the shade.�
� There was no friendliness in Stephen Cranbourne’s tone as Sir Aubrey helped Miss Partington up beside him. Sir Aubrey was equally cool as he prepared to defend himself against his new companion’s wiles. She was terrifying with her not-so-secret agenda.
He could barely make eye contact with the other one.
The other one. She’d have accompanied her elder sister everywhere, to every dance and every ball while he, blind to her less showy attributes, must have looked through her a dozen times.
“You’re very serious, Sir Aubrey,” Miss Partington teased him. “I trust you are not concerned as to how to control your handsome bays?”
“I am not.” He might have added more lightly that he was a dab hand with the ribbons and so set the course for more entertaining chatter, but he could not bring himself to lighten the mood. Leave that to her.
Unfazed, she said, “I shall want a pair of matched roans. My favorite horse was a roan. I’m very partial to them. I am an excellent horsewoman, Sir Aubrey. I believe you are fond of the hunt. So am I.”
“Is that so, Miss Partington? Sadly, I am a busy man and do not spend as much time enjoying such pursuits as I might like.”
“Then that must change, Sir Aubrey. Indeed, I have noticed you looking decidedly preoccupied these past few days and can only think that your work is too absorbing. It will profit you nothing if you are so joyless you cannot find balance in your life.”
“Balance, Miss Partington?” He glanced at her. “I think when we want something sufficiently we can find any means to justify it. Right now, I cannot justify pleasure when my reputation is besmirched by the rumors flying about me, and which I can’t believe someone as percipient as you have not heard. I’m surprised you would be seen with me.”
He’d hoped to repel her. At least put her off her stroke with the reference to his dubious reputation. To his dismay, her look of cloying self-satisfaction turned impassioned.
“Do not think I am swayed by evil, unfounded rumors. You have enemies, clearly, Sir Aubrey, and if they can be brought down, you will be vindicated.” She reached out a hand, which he did not take, pretending a need to control the horses. “You are a brave, good man and soon all the world will know it!”
Dangerous Gentlemen Page 12