Her Gilded Prison (Daughters of Sin 1)

“Just over forty and definitely in need of a wife, though not of Miss Julia’s ilk. Anyway.” Araminta rolled her eyes and resumed her tale. “Quite by chance, it seems, she was in Hatchard’s when he walked in, whereupon she promptly fainted right into his arms. He had her carried to his carriage whereupon his lady friend’s vinaigrette quickly had her up to the mark.”

Hetty appeared let down by the story. “So she didn’t receive a marriage offer, then?”

“No, but she used her trickery to get herself into his carriage and won her wager, which Miss Laetitia Milbank had to hand over that afternoon when Miss Julia called upon her with two witnesses and, believe me, that was worth a tidy sum.”

“How big was the wager?” asked Stephen, feeling distinctly green around the gills.

“It was big.” Cousin Araminta’s eyes grew round. “Miss Milbank’s pearl choker, would you believe? A small fortune, but then Miss Julia will take big risks for big stakes.” In an undertone she added, “Word is she took the biggest risk of all to snare Sir Archie but was then awfully miffed to discover his prospects weren’t at all as grand as she’d been led to believe.”

Stephen cleared his throat. “They appeared a very devoted couple,” he lied. He was conscious of the lack of conviction in his tone and not surprised Araminta seized upon it.

“Of course! Lady Julia didn’t get where she did without being a consummate actress. Now, Cousin Stephen, I’m glad to note you’re nothing like our other cousin, poor Edgar, who was next in line after Papa. You’re tall and athletic and very handsome while Edgar was dumpy with sandy hair and freckles and couldn’t talk about anything except hunting and shooting. Quite frankly, poor Edgar was a clodpoll.” Miss Araminta said it as if it were the last word. She seemed the kind of young lady who liked having the last word on everything.

“How can you say such a thing?” Hetty looked murderous.

Stephen could not resist a smile. “Your loyalty is to be commended, Cousin Hetty.” “It wasn’t me who said it.” Miss Araminta looked smug. “It was Papa, if you must know.”

“Papa?”

Stephen patted Hetty’s hand, understanding her betrayal amidst the undercurrents. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it. I’m sure Edgar was an excellent sort.”

“He was my best friend.” Hetty looked away, silent as her sister changed the subject, pointing to the house.

“There’s Mama’s wing, to the right,” Araminta said. “Papa’s is on the other side. Hetty and I are at the back with no view at all while you will have one of the guest bedrooms that run between them, perhaps even the room the late King George stayed in.”

“You are very proud of your home.”

“I love it more than anything.” This was spoken with quiet fervor.

“The footman is about to take in my trunk.” In the distance Stephen saw the carriage that had obviously been dispatched to fetch his belongings draw up in front of the portico. “I have a present for you, ladies, which I would like to give to you now.”

They retraced their footsteps to the house then gasped with pleasure at the caged canary Stephen presented to Araminta with a flourish.

“Does it have a name?” asked Hetty.

“A very grand name,” said Stephen. “Lady Zena, in fact. She belonged to my aunt who had to give her away after she took up residence with her daughter who couldn’t abide Lady Zena’s singing.”

“Lady Zena sings?” Hetty’s plump face flushed with pleasure.

“Not only that but she’ll sit obediently on your wrist and eat breadcrumbs from your hand.”

“Really?” Hetty’s girlish squeal made Stephen gratified in a way he was quite unused to. Genuine girlish enthusiasm was refreshing, he was surprised to find—but Miss Araminta’s scorching black gaze above Hetty’s head as the younger sister fiddled with the latch of the birdcage promised so much more.

It was not hard to interpret her meaning. Had she really picked him out?

Heat prickled his skin and he licked his lips. Fixing his attention upon the tiny mole to the right of her mouth, he imagined running his tongue over the contours of her satin-smooth skin. Miss Araminta loved her home and she clearly was not immune to the charms of the newly summoned heir.

If she had picked him out, he could think of a lot worse ways to spend his future than leg-shackled to such a diamond of the first water.

“Oh!” Hetty’s shriek punctuated his appreciation of the lovely Araminta, who was returning his look with transparent interest. “The bird! Oh no, she’s flown away!”

Hetty leapt to her feet, her mouth open with dismay as they all watched the canary alight upon the ivy-clad windowsill of one of the upper casements. It tilted its little head jauntily and immediately broke into song.

“Careless girl, Hetty!” snapped Araminta. “She’ll make a tasty meal for the nighthawks, won’t she?”

Her sister began to cry, great, gulping sobs that made her face red and blotchy. “She’ll come to me. Don’t cry, Cousin Hetty,” Stephen assured her, assessing the

distance to the first floor. Grasping the thick ivy, he found a firm foothold and hauled himself up.