Her Gilded Prison (Daughters of Sin Book 1)

by Beverley Oakley

  Humphry’s telling silence suggested Sybil’s argument had found fertile ground, yet when he suddenly burst out, “Is Stephen a complete and utter fool that he would risk his future for love of you, Sybil?” she cringed at the denigration she was so used to, and at his anger.

  Stephen drew in an outraged breath and would have spoken had Humphry not continued, “If you are not already carrying Stephen’s child further dealings with you all but ensure that he is throwing away any chance he has of inheriting the estate.” He nearly choked on the words, “Do you think you’re really worth the boy ruining his future?”

  Sybil felt the tears well up behind her eyes as she shrank into herself. He spoke only the truth.

  Rallying behind this new approach, Humphry’s tone became almost conciliatory. “Stephen, my boy. You’re young. Only twenty-four. You don’t know what love is.” He clapped him on the shoulder, almost fatherly. “Sybil has enticed you into what was, no doubt, a well-meaning attempt to ensure Edgar didn’t inherit and you’ve been seduced by the excitement and novelty of an older woman throwing herself at you—”

  “With due respect, you misinterpret the situation, my lord.” Stephen spoke crisply as he drew back from Humphry’s touch. “I am no green boy. I understand very well the ramifications for my own future and I understand my heart and mind very well. I’m willing to take whatever risks—and precautions—necessary to secure Lady Partington’s happiness, which runs in accord with mine. All I ask is for your...understanding.”

  “Understanding!”

  Stephen nodded calmly, as if Lord Partington had repeated the word with approbation rather than in outrage. He went on, “I wish to pursue a career—and I believe my experience abroad equips me for distinguishing myself in the Foreign Office—at the same time as enjoying the domestic felicity with Sybil that you have enjoyed these past twenty years with Mrs. Hazlett.” He spoke with quiet authority, adding, “We are both grown men who understand what is worth fighting for, but know, too, when it is wiser to back down.”

  His expression softened as he gazed at Sybil, tense with terror and expectation beside him, before confronting Lord Partington once more. “It is my understanding, my lord, that you bitterly regretted the fact you allowed yourself to be influenced by your pater in the matter of your marriage to Lady Partington when your desire was for a union with Mrs. Hazlett.” He paused before lowering his voice to add softly, “In that light, surely you can understand why I take such bold risks to secure my future happiness?”

  Stephen’s closeness and his championing words were like a physical caress. Dear Lord, prayed Sybil, let Humphry show the kindness of which I know he is capable.

  Tensely, she watched him battle the expected emotions he’d feel at this bolt from the blue—injured pride, incredulity, anger...

  Terrified but desperate, she whispered, “You’ve never loved me, Humphry. You’ve apologized for it for years. Please,” she begged, “allow me just a little happiness. We cannot change what has happened. I may be with child or I may not. If I am, it may never be born or it may be a girl, in which case the succession remains unchanged.” She reached for Stephen’s hand, which she gripped tightly as she added, “If I am not, we have every incentive to ensure I do not become enceinte so that Stephen remains your heir—a situation, I might add, that you seemed perfectly content to accept when the idea of conjugal relations with me was clearly repugnant and against your notion of honor and fidelity toward Mrs. Hazlett.”

  Humphry opened his mouth to speak, closed it again then turned away, shaking his head. “God knows it was a sorry day I bowed to my father’s dictates and wed you, Sybil,” he muttered.

  Stephen stepped forward and spoke, suddenly urgent. “Then you cannot be surprised, my lord, when I tell you that if you do not condone a discreet union between Sybil and myself that we will defy you anyway, despite the scandal which will cost us all, dearly, and despite the pecuniary and other obstacles that you are in a position to throw at us.”

  He pulled Sybil close to him as if to protect her, adding fiercely, “You may feel you need time to think about this, my lord, but we are not awaiting your decision—for ours is made already. Come, Sybil.”

  They were almost at the door when Lord Partington ground out, “Wait!”

  They turned, the expectation almost more than Sybil could bear as she watched the anguished workings of her husband’s expression. His unkempt gray hair added to his air of defeat—for that’s what she recognized, and she was almost sorry for him as she accepted the pain his twenty years at her side had caused him.

  He glared at Stephen. “You are due to leave for London tomorrow. I’ve already spoken to my contacts in the Foreign Office and had prepared a letter of introduction, which I had intended giving to you before you left.”

  Despair curdled in Sybil’s gut. Stephen’s bold gamble had not paid off. He was going to cast Stephen adrift and Sybil would spend the rest of her life torturing herself with self-recrimination for her role in her beloved’s fall from grace.

  Stephen nodded curtly. “Then we go without your blessing, my lord. For Sybil is coming with me. She will not remain here, a prisoner.”

  “A prisoner! Ha!” Lord Partington’s tone was bitter. “I’ve been a prisoner for twenty years!” He shook his head. “Sybil is not going with you, Stephen, for the scandal would ruin us all. But—”

  Sybil returned Stephen’s convulsive grip on her hand as she, too, tensed for what was about to come.

  “But you leave here with my support and prospective employment on one condition.”

  Stephen’s inquiring look was his only response before Lord Partington finished on a sigh, “Sybil and I will continue this charade of a marriage for the sake of appearances, for to do anything else would ruin Araminta’s and Hetty’s chances, though it would appear your bold risk, Stephen, in pushing for an outcome here and now had not factored that into the equation.”

  “I believed it would be a matter you’d factor into the equation, my lord,” Stephen muttered, “and fortunately it appears I was right.”

  Humphry allowed himself a wry smile. “Perhaps you are a better judge of character than I thought.” He seemed to deflate. “Go to London, my boy, and make a man of yourself. You can see Sybil when she takes the girls to town to launch Hetty in two months—not before.”

  He held up his hand for silence as Stephen gasped, apparently about to object. “Let us see what notions of fidelity a green boy can uphold when surrounded by the temptations of the city.” He hesitated. “You may yet thank me for my goodwill in agreeing to your terms on the proviso of this cooling-off period.”

  Sybil felt her mouth drop open. She glanced at Stephen and intercepted his expression. Where she might have seen hesitation she saw only unalloyed joy before Stephen moved forward to shake Humphry’s hand. “Two months is nothing to wait if I know I retain Sybil’s heart while I impatiently bide my time until I can see her again.”

  Sybil had never seem him smile so broadly.

  “Sybil is my angel. She will make me the best I can be. I know it.” He spoke with such fervency Sybil’s heart swelled and the tears prickled behind her eyelids.

  “Thank you, Humphry,” she said simply.

  “But discretion will be paramount,” her husband said, frowning, as he broke the handshake.

  “Yes, Humphry,” Sybil whispered, seeing her delight reflected in Stephen’s smile.

  “And now I have the matter of my nephew’s body to attend to,” Humphry went on. “In case you’d forgotten, Dr. Marsh will soon be back and there’ll be an inquest. You’ll have to come back from London for that.”

  Stephen looked sober a moment before he answered with a secret look at Sybil, “With alacrity, my lord.”

  Humphry merely harrumphed as he turned his back on them and headed toward the door to look out across the moonlit lawns, no doubt awaiting the sight of Edgar’s body being borne on a litter back from the lake. Then his voice, soft but distinct, punctu
ated the almost disbelieving silence as Sybil and Stephen held each other’s hands and gazed at one another.

  “May you have joy of her, Stephen,” he said. His words floated across the few yards that separated them and as Sybil turned to look at her husband’s green-silk-clad back she nevertheless felt a stab of remorse for failing in her impossible duty. Lord Partington shook his head, his tone considering as he continued to stare out across the lawns. “It’s not her fault she’s brought me little enough of it...” He sighed once more, heavily, adding, “But perhaps she deserves what happiness you can give her.”

  Sybil was too used to backhanded compliments to be troubled. Being enfolded in Stephen’s strong, fervent embrace before his mouth came down, hard and passionate upon hers, was compensation enough.

  The End

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  Rogue’s Kiss

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  Did you love Her Gilded Prison? Then you should read Dangerous Gentlemen by Beverley Oakley!

  London, 1818

  Shy, plain Hetty was the wallflower beneath his notice…until a terrible mistake has one dangerous, delicious rake believing she's the prostitute he ordered.

  Shy, self-effacing Henrietta knows her place—in her dazzling older sister’s shadow. She’s a little brown peahen to Araminta’s bird of paradise. But when Hetty mistakenly becomes embroiled in the Regency underworld, the innocent debutante finds herself shockingly compromised by the dashing, dangerous Sir Aubrey, the very gentleman her heart desires. And the man Araminta has in her cold, calculating sights.

  Branded an enemy of the Crown, bitter over the loss of his wife, Sir Aubrey wants only to lose himself in the warm, willing body of the young “prostitute” Hetty. As he tutors her in the art of lovemaking, Aubrey is pleased to find Hetty not only an ardent student, but a bright, witty and charming companion.

  Despite a spoiled Araminta plotting for a marriage offer and a powerful political enemy damaging his reputation, Aubrey may suffer the greatest betrayal at the hands of the little “concubine” who’s managed to breach the stony exterior of his heart.

  A steamy Regency Romance originally published by Ellora's Cave.

  Read more at Beverley Oakley’s site.

  Also by Beverley Oakley

  Daughters of Sin

  Her Gilded Prison

  Dangerous Gentlemen

  Watch for more at Beverley Oakley’s site.

  About the Author

  Beverley Oakley was seventeen when she bundled up her first her 500+ page romance and sent it to a publisher. Unfortunately drowning her heroine on the last page was apparently not in line with the expectations of romance readers so Beverley became a journalist.

  Twenty-six years later Beverley was delighted to receive her first publishing contract from Robert Hale (UK) for a romance in which she ensured her heroine was saved from drowning in the icy North Sea.

  Since 2009 Beverley has written more than thirteen historical romances, mostly set in England during the early nineteenth century. Mystery, intrigue and adventure spill from their pages and if she can pull off a thrilling race to save someone’s honour – or a worthy damsel from the noose – it’s time to celebrate with a good single malt Scotch.

  Beverley lives with her husband, two daughters and a Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy the size of a pony opposite a picturesque nineteenth century lunatic asylum. She also writes Africa-set adventure-filled romances tarring handsome bush pilot heroes, and historical romances with less steam and more sexual tension, as Beverley Eikli.

  Read more at Beverley Oakley’s site.