Her Gilded Prison (Daughters of Sin 1)

“I heard your mama’s distress over this animal. I believe your father bought her for you this afternoon.”

Dimples appeared in Araminta’s cheeks. “Isn’t she beautiful? The finest in the county, I believe.”

“Your mama doesn’t share your enthusiasm.”

Araminta made a noise of irritation. “If Mama were cleverer—or prettier—perhaps Papa would want to spend more time with us instead of giving horses and no doubt other gifts to the ladies he prefers.”

Stephen studied her in amazement. Did she know what she was saying?

Which was? Quickly he went over the aspersions suggested by Lady Partington. “Your father gave this horse to another lady?” he asked bluntly.

“Yes. Mrs. Hazlett, who’s apparently had to go away. Anyway, that’s according to Mrs. Mortimer in the village, who told me Mrs. Hazlett was looking to sell darling Bunty.”

“If you suspect your father gave Bunty to this Mrs. Hazlett, aren’t you concerned at the thought of upsetting your mother? I’m sure I wouldn’t like to think of my wife bestowing such generous gifts on another man.”

Araminta swung round from her enthusiastic petting of the horse with a glare. “Don’t you see? It’s why I did it.” In response to Stephen’s look of confusion she went on, “I wanted to teach Mama a lesson. If she wants to keep Papa here with us she must try harder. She’s such a little dormouse, isn’t she?”

Stephen found himself actively revolting against her sentiments. “I don’t think so.”

Araminta’s jaw dropped. Deciding against arguing, she stepped closer to him. Only a foot separated them and they were hidden from the house. “You can kiss me if you like, Cousin Stephen.”

She tilted up her chin and closed her eyes. Tendrils of desire snaked through him yet his heart wasn’t in it.

When Hetty called from the back step he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

He drew back before Araminta did. “I shall have to be patient, shan’t I?”

“And you shall be well rewarded for it, Mr. Cranbourne,” she promised in a whisper, giving his hand a quick squeeze before turning toward the house.

* * * * *

Through a haze of misery, Sybil observed the budding romance between Stephen and Araminta. Araminta made no secret of her feelings—that she wanted to be the next lady of the manor. She thought, too, that Araminta’s desire for the young man was genuine, which took the edge off her misery.

Humphry’s thoughts echoed hers when he remarked after dinner, “How fortuitous that Araminta’s lofty ambitions will be grounded in true love.” Then he surprised her by adding, “Yet I wonder if Stephen is as smitten.”

“Why, Humphry, I thought you imagined all men were in love with our daughter.” She liked to refer to Araminta like this, reinforcing the bond between them.

Humphry toyed with his drink. “Oh, he’ll make her an offer before the end of the week,” he predicted. “Yet he seems distracted.”

“By her beauty.”

“No, something else.”

Sybil stared. It was unusual for Humphry to notice anything going on around him at the Grange. A bitter knot lodged in her throat. Of course, his mistress had departed, exhausted by a condition which “only nine months would cure”. It was the only reason he was at her side so late this evening. Humphry would be chafing at the separation, however he’d soon invent an excuse to leave his family.

She didn’t respond at first. Then, forcing a smile, agreed. “I suppose we are all a little distracted. Events have not run their usual course, have they, Humphry?”

His expression was quizzical. They never referred to his mistress, even obliquely, so he chose to discount any possibility of a reference to Lizzy Hazlett, saying instead, “Yes, and he doesn’t disappoint, does he?”

Sybil concurred without hesitation. “He is as charming as he is handsome. And he’s kind, too, Humphry. Surprisingly kind for a young man so used to having the ladies presumably throw themselves at him. I think he’s had a harder life than we’d imagine.”

“Now you’re going overboard, my dear. I merely was comparing him with ghastly Edgar, who might have stood in his shoes had he not come out so badly at Corunna.”

“I doubt he would, the way Araminta’s looking at Stephen.”

Humphry’s mouth twitched. “No, I doubt Araminta would have looked at Edgar with quite such soulful eyes.” He studied the pair. Araminta looked dazzling in her white muslin gown with its green sash and matching emerald earrings. Her dark, glossy hair had been swept up into a becoming cluster of curls that fell from a topknot.

She looked very innocent and very desirable, surely a heady mix, thought Sybil, wondering what elusive qualities enticed a man. Certainly she’d never possessed the right ones. In all her nearly forty years no man had ever looked at her twice.