Beyond Rubies (Daughters of Sin Book 4)

by Beverley Oakley

  He put out his hand and touched the festooned sleeve of her evening dress.

  “You recoil? Do I disgust you so much?” His lips curled. “Take off your gown.”

  Araminta gasped. “How dare you, Mr. Woking? I will not.”

  “Take it off and I won’t touch you.”

  “What?”

  “Just do as I say. You can trust me as a man of honor.”

  “A man of honor does not ask an unwilling lady to remove her gown.”

  “A lady of honor does not flaunt her body and her wares and then run away without following through on her original intent. Go on! Take it off. Turn around and I’ll undo the buttons at the back.”

  Terrified, Araminta turned her back, her skin crawling at the feel of his fingers fumbling with her buttons.

  “Now take it off. Since I’ve given you my word of honor I won’t touch you, you need to take it off yourself.”

  Trying to control her breathing, Araminta pulled her dress over her head and dropped it onto the floor, where it pooled into a puddle of pink silk. Turning, her expression blazing, she stamped her foot but was silent.

  “Now your petticoat.”

  Araminta felt her mouth drop open and began to protest. But she did as he requested. He wanted to humiliate her. Well, let him have his sport. She was helpless, but while she would remove her gown, she would go no farther.

  “Your stays, my lady? Go on. Unlace those. Do it slowly, so that I might see better. As I’ve seen it every night in my dreams. That’s right. And now your chemise.”

  “What?!”

  “Your chemise. I want to see your skin glow like alabaster in the lamplight. Like I imagine. Ah.” He exhaled on a sigh of appreciation when she was naked and standing in the center of the floor in just her stockings.

  “Even after the birth of my child, you are every bit as beautiful as I remember.” Slowly he began to circle her, reaching out, almost trailing his hand over her skin, but not quite touching her. His eyes were glazed with rapture, and he blinked rapidly.

  Araminta saw after a few moments that he was crying. Horrified, she watched him drop to his knees, his arms encircling her as he buried his face in her belly and wept. “I loved you, Araminta. I’d have gone to the ends of the world and back to have made you mine. But you betrayed me. Betrayed me with my uncle who now calls himself the father of my child.”

  “It’s...it’s not your child.”

  He raised soulful eyes. “How do you know that? It is impossible to know that since you slept with me one night and my uncle the next and nine months later bore a child. But I was first, Araminta. That is what I base my belief upon. I was your first lover, and I should have been your husband.” He pushed his head into the softness of her belly once more and inhaled deeply. “You smell so good, Araminta. God, you do not know what this restraint costs me.”

  To Araminta’s horror, she saw when he finally rose, evidence of his violent erection and put her hand to her mouth.

  Offended, he whispered, “There’s no need for you to make your aversion quite so plain. Though once it was different. Once I was the man you sought in the most unladylike fashion. And so it is time for me to leave you...” he turned, stooping to pick up her gown which he draped over his arm, adding “...in a most unladylike fashion.”

  ***

  Horrified, Araminta stared at the door. She was trapped, and Araminta had no idea what to do. The door was unlocked and she was free to leave, but Mr. Woking had taken her ball gown, and a lady in chemise and petticoat could go nowhere.

  After a few minutes of frantic dashing from one side of the room to the other, turning over cushions in the hope something would yield inspiration as to how to extricate her from this nightmare, she collapsed onto the banquette, sobbing.

  How could her husband’s own nephew humiliate her so? One day, she would find a means to take her revenge, and she would take great pleasure in plotting the villain’s downfall, but right now, Araminta was at the complete mercy of fate.

  And that arrived in the form of more crunching footsteps preceding the arrival of another visitor.

  Lord Ludbridge? she thought hopefully. Perhaps he’d remembered their last time here, and might imagine of his own volition that this is where he would find Araminta, once he’d discovered her gone from the riverside tent.

  Her heart whistled into her throat at the very thought, and she arranged herself with careful nonchalance along the banquette. She’d concoct a story of how her gown went missing—she could say she slipped and fell in the river, and in order to save her life, she had to remove it underwater before it drowned her in its water-logged folds and dragged her under. The nearest place to find warmth and succor had been the rotunda. Teddy would believe her. He’d be so desperately concerned, and then he’d help her. That’s why she loved Teddy so much. He always recognized the best in her.

  And even if he’d abandoned her eight months ago, right now just when she needed him most, at least he was here now—her knight in shining armor, coming to her rescue.

  The footsteps drew closer, the tap of leather upon the polished marble portico stairs sending Araminta’s heart into freefall. Soon he would enfold her in his arms. She could drown in the sensation of finally being united in body and soul with the man she loved. It concerned her that the Queen Anne’s Lace seeds that Mrs. Mobbs told her she must take to prevent conception were now scattered to the winds. Yet surely it was unlikely that anything would come of the encounter she was anticipating so fervently when it was only six weeks after the birth of her child. She thought of her own marital experiences and decided she’d somehow indicate her desire that he withdraw early before he spilled his seed. The idea of another pregnancy horrified her, even if it was a consequence of making love with the one true man she’d ever met.

  The doorknob turned. She put her hand to her heart and drew in a shaking breath as slowly, on creaking hinges, the door opened.

  “What a sight for sore eyes,” came a low growl, full of desire. “Well, well, you said you’d signal to me when the time was right, but I have to give you full marks, my darling, for being so creative.”

  It was too dim to make out from this distance who the speaker was, but the salacious tone did not belong to Teddy; she knew that much.

  Araminta forced herself not to scream. “Debenham?”

  “My good nephew gave me your note.” He chuckled as he strode forward, already loosening his stock, his eyes gleaming, satyr-like. “I must say, he looked rather dark when he thrust it without a word into my hand as I passed him near the riverside tent. I asked him if he’d seen you.”

  Debenham stopped in the middle of the floor and looked her up and down with great appreciation. “I thought you’d lost your appetite for bedroom sport, Araminta, but now I find you in a greater fever to have me than I’d expected so soon after your confinement.” He chuckled again before repeating the words she’d written in her note: ‘Meet me in the rotunda on top of the hill as soon as you get this. I am ready.’ Well, there’s nothing cryptic about that, is there? Couldn’t have made it any plainer, my dear, and I am glad for it. I like a wife who knows what she wants and isn’t ashamed to say it. Now, come to me.”

  He held out his arms and, forcing a smile, Araminta rose and advanced toward him.

  “Ah, what a woman,” Debenham murmured into her hair as he wrapped his arms about her. Holding her tightly, his exploring hands roamed over her flanks, her bosom, pressed against her mound, clearly fueling his arousal.

  Without a word, he bent and grasped the hem of her petticoat, whipping it upward and over her head. With nimble fingers he unlaced her stays, and within seconds, her chemise joined the tumble of clothes upon the ground. For the second time that night, Araminta stood naked, feeling even more vulnerable than she had when Mr. Woking had sized her up like a fox his prey, though her aversion had a different motivation. She’d felt she could control Mr. Woking. With her husband, that was not the case.

  Fortunate
ly, Debenham had not noticed the absence of her ball gown. What had Mr. Woking done with it? Its light, flimsy fabric meant it could be rolled into mere nothingness. Had he tossed it away outside somewhere nearby or had he taken it with him?

  She shook her head, closed her eyes and tried to banish the thought. She could not worry about that now. Her first concern must be pleasing her husband, and she would need to do that thoroughly to shore up his goodwill toward her in the hopes of averting any difficult questions when he left her.

  Twining her arms about his neck, she pressed her naked body suggestively against his, then trailed one hand down his hard chest to massage his groin.

  “Oh, I am more than ready, my husband,” she purred, gyrating against his erection. “I do love an intelligent man. I wondered if you’d be clever enough to find me.” She buried her head against his chest and inhaled the aroma of arrack, sweat, and leather while she allowed him access to her body. He was clearly enjoying the novelty of her nakedness, standing in a foreign location. His hands roamed over her body, his fingers twining themselves in the thatch of hair at the juncture of her legs. Araminta groaned softly. She must throw herself into this with all the enthusiasm of which she was capable. Debenham was her husband, and as he’d reminded her earlier, she was utterly reliant on him. This little episode might help ameliorate his mood when she continued to be unable to present him with the ruby necklace.

  “I was surprised you entrusted such a wicked little note to my nephew,” he murmured, tickling her ear with his tongue, “though, no doubt, taunting him was part of the pleasure for you, my dear girl. I know you too well.” He chuckled as he pinched her nipple. “Taunting him with what he can never have. I’m surprised you’re not concerned he might be peeping through the windows and watching us from the darkness?”

  Araminta gave a low, throaty laugh. “And would that be so terrible? Surely you’d want to show him how a real man conducts maneuvers, Debenham darling.”

  To her surprise, Debenham burst out laughing. “You are full of surprises, Lady Debenham.” He whisked her into his arms and strode across to the banquette where he laid her over the cushions before quickly divesting himself of his clothes.

  “Tell me, is this one of the pleasures you’ve been so eager to taste, dear heart?” he asked when he was stark naked and his enormous member was thrust under her nose. “Ah yes.” He closed his eyes and exhaled on a sigh of rapture as Araminta took him into her mouth. He was huge and eager as he rammed himself down her throat, but it occurred to her that she might just satisfy him this way rather than risk an unwanted pregnancy if his desire for rutting ran the full gamut.

  He adjusted his position to give her deeper access, standing above her, while she lay on her back upon the banquette, pleasuring him, her hands grasped him tightly, massaging his shaft, doing what she must to satisfy her husband in the hope he’d drain his seed other than inside her. His breath was coming deeper and more rapidly as his thrusting grew more urgent. Araminta felt no desire for similar satisfaction. She wanted only to urge him on to final satisfaction so she could escape. Or so he could leave, sated, and she could find a means of sneaking away in the darkness, possibly avoiding detection.

  “And now for the grand finale!”

  She’d truly thought he was about to spill his seed safely in her mouth, but unexpectedly he withdrew, fell upon her, prized her legs apart and plunged himself deep inside her, gasping in the throes of ecstatic ejaculation.

  Horrified, Araminta stared above his shoulder, into the gloom of the room as Debenham had his fill of pleasure, before he went limp on top of her.

  After a few minutes, he raised himself, his eyes gleaming. “That was good, eh, my sweeting?” he growled. “Just what you’ve been waiting for with growing impatience, eh?” He rolled onto his side and grinned. “Couldn’t afford to arouse you too much and have your shrieking bring the rest of them away from the fireworks. I’ll save that for round two later tonight, now that I’ve been reminded of how damned good you are in bed.” At the sound of a loud bang outside, he sat up. “The fireworks have begun...for the rest of the party, that is, eh, my love?” he quipped.

  Araminta hoped his good humor would last. She pressed her lips together in a smile and nodded as she rose, but drew back when he extended his hand with the invitation they join the rest of the party.

  He looked about to press her when his attention was suddenly diverted.

  “What’s this?”

  Araminta looked up and saw he held the sketch Teddy had given her earlier that evening, though she noticed, vaguely, a piece had been torn away.

  His eyes widened. “Good God, that woman is wearing your ruby necklace.” His brow furrowed as he turned to Araminta, silently demanding understanding.

  “Debenham, I’m not sure what to do!” Breathlessly, Araminta rose and stabbed her finger in the direction of the picture. “You see, it’s gone missing. I didn’t know how to tell you, but I’ve put the word about, and now I’ve received this.” She swallowed, truly afraid that Debenham would angrily consider Araminta was in the wrong or would not believe her. “It was stolen...a week ago...and now I’ve just received this together with a demand for money. No, not the full amount, because whoever did this knows I do not have that kind of money, and besides, it’s too distinctive for them to sell it easily.”

  “Someone’s blackmailing you?” His anger was more explosive than she’d expected and to her surprise, he gripped her shoulders and pulled her against him, as he repeated, “Someone dares to blackmail Lady Debenham? My wife?”

  Araminta nodded. “Yes,” she whispered, shuddering as she began to cry, this time for real. “I didn’t know how to tell you, Debenham. I thought I could get it back without you knowing, so you wouldn’t be angry with me.”

  “Angry with you?” He held her at arm’s length, his scowl fueling her terror, before he brought his mouth down on hers in a deep, almost satisfying kiss for the fact that it was clear his desire for her was much greater than his anger. “No, my love, my anger is reserved for whoever is behind this, and by God, they will be made to pay. No one blackmails a Debenham! Now, come my love, and let us return to the entertainment.” He folded the sketch and put it in his pocket. “Don’t you fret about unpleasant matters such as this. You can rest assured that I will take care of it.” Once more, his eyes roamed over her body with salacious appreciation. “By God, Araminta, I’d forgotten how you could fire me up.”

  Araminta managed a more robust smile this time. “I knew I could depend upon you, my darling. I should have gone to you straight away.” She sighed and stared wistfully out of the window. “What a wonderful sight it is, the stars and the fireworks. I want to stay here longer. You go back if you wish, and I shall join you later.”

  Finally, she persuaded him to return without her, and to her relief, he left without argument.

  As the door closed behind him, and in the wake of no uncomfortable questions regarding clothing—or the lack of it—Araminta lay back against the cushions now in disarray upon the red-velvet banquette. With a sigh of fear and despair, she wondered how she would get herself home and into the house with no questions asked.

  But that was only part of her problems tonight.

  How had Miss La Bijou come into possession of her necklace?

  And what did she know of the circumstances regarding its departure from Lady Debenham’s custody?

  Chapter Twenty-three

  It was almost a relief to Araminta that her parents made an unexpected visit to London, visiting her the following day. She needed something to deflect Debenham, though, thank the Lord, she’d found her ballgrown thrust into a bush near the doorway to the rotunda, so that was something else she’d not have to explain to him.

  “Are you all right, Araminta dearest?” Lady Partington sent a concerned look in her daughter’s direction as she raised her head from her embroidery. The weather was gray and dull today, and Lord and Lady Partington had settled themselves comfortably in
her drawing room, as if they had no intention of leaving for a week. “Don’t you think Araminta is looking peaky today?” She turned to her husband for consensus, and Araminta had to hold her tongue so as not to snap that it was unlikely Lord Partington would remember what his daughter looked like. He’d been absent so much of the time she was growing up, and only recently had she learned it was because he favored his ‘other family.’ With the maturity she’d gained since she’d been married, she felt a fool, now, for not having understood earlier the dark desires that drew her father away from his marital responsibilities.

  Even when Araminta had returned to The Grange on her recent visit, he’d barely spent a night at home, and several times she’d seen him in a carriage with a rather plain, serious-faced, middle-aged woman whom Araminta presumed was his mistress—the solicitor’s daughter he’d initially intended to marry.

  Araminta put down the lid of the piano with a clatter and sighed, “Really, Mama; it’s nothing!”

  “Nothing? When you say it like that?” Her father put down his newspaper and regarded her closely. “Tell us what is troubling you, Araminta. Your mother is right. You’ve been as restless as a gypsy this whole morning. I’m sure it can’t be that young William is cutting a tooth since you’ve not seen him in two days.”

  “Are you suggesting I lack a mother’s concern?” Araminta sent him a challenging look. “Besides, how would you know how many times I’ve been to the nursery?”

  “Now, now, Araminta, you don’t talk back to your father like that,” admonished her mother while her father added, warningly, “For someone who likes to be lavished with fine clothes and jewels, I hope you don’t speak like that to your husband. I can’t imagine Debenham would take too kindly to being made aware of his shortcomings.”

  “Debenham has hardly showered me with jewels and fine clothes,” Araminta muttered. “In fact, the ruby necklace he gave me when we married is now gracing the neck of that actress, Kitty La Bijou.” She knew she was taking a chance, but Debenham had found the sketch and believed the necklace stolen. The more Araminta backed up this theory that it had been stolen, the less likely that the truth would be revealed. “Yes, scandalous, isn’t it? Debenham took it to pay a gambling debt, though please don’t reveal this. He told me it had been stolen, but I know the truth.” She looked suitably distressed, though truth be told, her distress wasn’t feigned. She was sick with fear at what might transpire once the necklace was returned, as it soon must be. “A pretty pass it is when a respectable and virtuous viscount’s wife sees her hard-earned jewels worn by such common gutter fodder.”