Her Gilded Prison (Daughters of Sin 1)

Yet while her perfume teased his senses and her ministering touch was gratifying he could not get out of his mind the lush, ripe nakedness of Lady Partington’s unexpectedly desirable body.

Limping into the house, he realized how terribly embarrassing the episode would be for Lady Partington once she understood he was blameless. Hopefully she could dress it up as an amusing anecdote to share with Lord Partington as they cozily discussed the day’s events—something Stephen was looking forward to doing with his own wife.

Simple pleasures.

Lord Partington had done well in his marriage, even if he didn’t have a living son. The demure façade presented by Her Ladyship was clearly very different from the reality.

* * * * *

Sybil didn’t know how she had the courage to enter the dining room that evening. Should she tell Humphry? How would he take the fact that his highly anticipated heir was a peeping Tom? That he had spied on her in her bedroom and leered at her naked. For he hadn’t looked away in shame. Oh no, he’d continued to stare right at her.

Her stomach roiled. At his contempt? His disgust? When he addressed her in future he’d think only of her old, ugly body while he pretended the requisite courtesies.

She knew she should face him with regal hauteur but her embarrassment was too acute.

“Mama, come and look at Lady Zena.” Hetty leaped to her feet when Sybil entered the drawing room. “Isn’t she a darling?” she demanded as she ran across the Wilton carpet to drag Sybil to the corner where Araminta—and, lord forbid—Cousin Stephen were crowded ‘round what looked to be a bird’s cage.

Sybil could not meet his eye. She should make clear her indignation and outrage but she lacked the courage. Was he embarrassed that he’d been caught peeping? Or did he imagine her such a mouse that she’d say nothing?

Running a hand across her heated brow, Sybil forced herself to attend to Hetty’s prattle while acutely conscious of the young man’s strong, lithe body only feet from her. Her brain whirled with questions. Why had he spied on her? And—not that it should matter, but...how badly had he been repulsed?

“We were quite certain poor Cousin Stephen was going to break his neck,” Araminta said, casting a surprisingly warm glance at the young man. “Then Hetty wanted to run into your room to see if we could help him through the window as it was your sill he was clinging to.”

Sybil stiffened. “What did you say, Araminta?”

“Mama, you are so vague,” Araminta huffed. “I said that Cousin Stephen rescued Lady Zena, the canary he gave to us this afternoon, after it flew out of its cage and landed on your windowsill.”

“He was so daring and insisted the bird would come to him if he could get close enough,” said Hetty. “He climbed right up to your bedchamber. I’m surprised you didn’t see him.”

“But he was in such a hurry to climb down again he twisted his ankle when he landed,” said Araminta.

Cousin Stephen cleared his throat. “All’s well that ends well and no damage was done, I assure you, Lady Partington.”

Oh dear Lord, he was looking directly at her, a faint smile playing about his beautifully formed lips.

What was wrong with her? He certainly didn’t look disgusted. In fact...well, the very opposite.

“I hope you didn’t object to my surprise, Lady Partington.”

“No, I—” Sybil could utter nothing coherent, she was so overcome with confusion. Her embarrassment only increased when Mr. Cranbourne added, “I mean, to my giving the girls a bird.”

Oh, Lord. Did he imagine she’d misinterpreted him? Well, she had...for just a second. “A bird?” she croaked. “No, of course not. No objections, nothing to object to, that is—is there?”

“I hoped you’d feel that way.”

His response was so soothing. Meanwhile she was acting like a flustered peagoose whose feathers were being gently stroked.

However, it was with relief she welcomed Humphry, who joined them in the drawing room, saying, “I trust you had a pleasant afternoon, Stephen, and that the ladies have entertained you.”

“I’ve been vastly entertained, my lord.” The young man bowed, glancing at Sybil as he raised his head. Was he making fun of her? A young man seeing a woman more than fifteen years older than himself in such a state? No, she was imagining it. He was looking at Araminta beside her. How could she have imagined he’d even bother making fun of a woman old enough to be his mother? Well, nearly old enough.

Smoothly, he continued the conversation he’d obviously had earlier with Humphry. “I should enjoy joining you for an afternoon ride tomorrow, my lord. Riding is one of the things I like best, in fact.”

“Excellent, excellent.” There was an encouraging degree of enthusiasm in Humphry’s tone.

Sybil kn

ew how relieved he was that Stephen was so unlike Edgar. Stephen was strong, tall, handsome and apparently capable. Levelheaded and considered. Unlike chuckle-headed, indecisive Edgar.