The Mysterious Governess (Daughters of Sin 3)

“Congratulations, Miss Partington! Congratulations, Mr. Woking!”

The good cheer was abundant this evening as Araminta stood a few yards from the front door beside her new affianced, who was beaming like the cat who’d got the cream. Araminta looked at him askance and was about to remark upon the crumb clinging to his lip when she realized it was a pimple.

Yes, she was marrying a pimply boy. Her heart shriveled a little more at the thought.

“Everyone seems so pleased for us, I feel a trifle guilty.” Mr. Woking—Roderick—picked up her hand and kissed it as another gathering of guests was announced. “Why, thank you, Mr. Crossing, Mrs. Crossing. So kind, and yes, I am the luckiest of bride grooms.”

Araminta managed a weak smile as she responded to the latest well wishes. “Yes, such a lovely evening,” she agreed before murmuring to Roderick, “Don’t feel guilty. We’ve managed to steal the attention from Miss Hoskings’ lackluster match. Look at the dreary girl, standing on the other side of the doorway. Doesn’t she know she cannot wear that shade of puce with a complexion like hers? Yet she’s made a decent match, can you believe it? Five thousand a year, though I can’t imagine he’ll want to spend much time away from his club. Nevertheless, she looks like she’d put up with anything. I’m sure tonight is the most exciting she’s ever likely to have. She’s lucky she received an offer at all, with such a hatchet-face, poor dear.”

“The girl is nice enough.” Roderick lowered his head and his eyes glittered. “Her aunt was ruined by my uncle, don’t you know?” He gave a slow nod of his head, as if proud of the fact. “My uncle, Lord Debenham, has quite a reputation with the ladies. Don’t think your family is the only one to be mired in scandal, though of course it’s not the gentlemen who need to worry about reputations and that sort of thing. Your sister should have been more mindful of the consequences her actions had on you, Araminta, my love. Have no fear, however, that I hold her—or you—in contempt.”

“I don’t,” Araminta responded acidly. “But can you really believe that a roly-poly like Miss Hoskings had an aunt who caught the attention of Lord Debenham?” The mention of the gentleman with whom she’d nearly courted disaster made her shiver.

“Appearances are deceptive, aren’t they, my dear-heart?” He sent her a sly look, which made Araminta think she was going to be sick again.

When she did not respond, he went on, a trifle too eagerly for the fact they were in public—or anywhere, for that matter. “The manner in which you pretended to hold me in such disdain when in fact you were mad for me has made me all the wilder for you.”

He’d dropped his voice to a rushed whisper and his normally pasty face, now shiny red in the glow of the candles, reminded her of an overripe tomato as he slanted an impassioned gaze across at her. “My goodness, but last night was magnificent, and I am so glad you see the merit in a hasty wedding, though of course we need not observe the abstinence that would ordinarily be necessary, given what has already occurred.” He chuckled as he clearly dwelt on their grubby, thirty-second encounter on a banquette in his drawing room the previous night.

“Please excuse me, I’m suddenly not feeling quite the thing,” Araminta whispered hurriedly over her shoulder as she left his side and dashed into the corridor in search of a chamber pot. This time she really was going to be sick.

She was not familiar with the house, and the labyrinth of passages presented more of a challenge than she’d expected. Finally she found what she was looking for and, whipping aside the curtain, gasped her stomach’s contents into the gaping hole.

It took her a few minutes to gather herself. She walked shakily back into the dark corridor and leaned against the wall with her eyes closed, her head tilted upward.

What nightmare was this? Was she really going to marry Mr. Woking in three weeks? Right now it was almost as if God were punishing her. But why, when it was Hetty who had behaved so wretchedly—meaning Araminta had had to work so hard to save the family’s wealth and reputation from ruin?

“Lost your way, Miss Partington?”

The voice struck real fear into her and she gasped, snapping to attention and opening her eyes to see Lord Debenham looming.

“I’m not feeling too well,” she responded weakly.

“Too weak to return to the ball? Why, that’s not like you. Perhaps you should come along with me. You definitely look like you need to rest. I’ve never seen you look so wan, when you’re such a vibrant beauty on any other day.”

Araminta put her hand against the wall to steady herself. “I really should go back. Roderick will be wondering what’s happened to me.”

Lord Debenham continued to stand before her in a disconcerting, slightly menacing way. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

“Roderick. Yes.” He drew the words out consideringly. “That was a surprise.”

Araminta shrugged. “I don’t know why. You were the one to cite his many qualities, I seem to remember.”

“When I was rejecting your overtures, Miss Partington.” He sighed. “My, how I’ve lived to rue the day.”

She blinked her eyes wide in surprise. “You made your lack of interest quite plain, sir. And now Roderick is to be my husband, and you and I shall be cousins in marriage.” She smiled, feeling more confident now she could speak like that.

“But what if that isn’t enough for me?” He put out his hand and touched her cheek.

Araminta flinched, though a frisson of excitement made the contact far more exhilarating than when Roderick had pawed her.

“I don’t understand you, My Lord,” she whispered, repulsed yet irresistibly drawn to the danger he exuded. “I am about to be married.”

“Don’t play the innocent with me. You know exactly what I mean.” He’d drawn closer now. He was playing with her, stroking her cheek, her neck, her décolletage with the tips of his fingers, his voice a soothing murmur as he led her along the passage. “If you are so weary, I can take you to a room where you’ll be comfortable. I’m a regular guest of this house, in fact. Hoskings and I have enjoyed many a cribbage evening together and I’m not always in a position to return to my own bed. Let me take you somewhere you can lie down.”

Despite every instinct screaming caution, Araminta’s breasts tingled and she felt again that increasingly familiar throbbing desire between her legs. She’d thought she’d never feel it again except in Teddy’s presence, but he’d left her, meaning pimply, groping Roderick was her only means of salvation.

“Here we are, my dear.”