Her Gilded Prison (Daughters of Sin 1)

They laughed and Sybil felt she was watching from outside herself as she deliberately placed her hand over Mr. Cranbourne’s. It was meant to be a gesture of solidarity for the difficult position in which he found himself. “You’ll surprise us all. Indeed, Cousin Stephen, I imagine you’ll go far. Humphry will secure you a position in London. He was talking about it—that’s if you’re interested. I’m sorry I dismissed you as no better than the rest when you first came here.”

“Did you?” His fingers curled around her hand. She hadn’t expected that or the frisson of electricity that skimmed up her arm. “Thank you, Lady Partington, for your support. I may need it one day. Indeed, your husband has been good to me. He’s having a house party in ten days to invite some people to whom I owe money. He plans to use the occasion to reverse my debt.”

She withdrew her hand. “You’ll just lose more.” Her tone was censorious but then he was young and no worse than most men. She was just disappointed. But not disappointed that he was staying. “In ten days? Perhaps you’ll persuade Araminta of your address over Edgar’s.”

“I doubt I’ll do that, and in fact, nor do I want to. The debt, by the way, involves no outlay on my part, for your husband is determined that this will vindicate me and merely settle a score.”

At her look of inquiry, he went on, “I was cheated when the outcome of a pair of house spiders’ mating ritual was engineered.”

This made her blush but she hurried on, “Humphry is quite the man of science. It would appeal to him to recreate the experiment, if it could be done.” Warmly, she added, “I’ll keep my eye out for courting house spi

ders.”

Mr. Cranbourne rose and to her extraordinary surprise put his hands on her cheeks and kissed her forehead. “That would be much appreciated, Lady Partington.”

The touch of his lips could be felt long after he’d gone.

She sat, staring at him—stupidly, no doubt—while her heart beat an irregular tattoo.

Was this the way he’d take his leave of a favorite aunt? That must be it, of course.

* * * * *

It seemed Humphry shared Sybil’s considerable concern over the new situation with regard to their daughters. At any rate, she assumed this must be the reason he joined her for tea on the terrace several days later. It was a lovely afternoon and she’d had the servants take table and chairs onto the lawn so she could relax beneath a wide- brimmed straw hat and survey the world. Ten minutes later Humphry took the vacant chair opposite hers and began to converse with her quite amiably.

“Where is everybody?” he inquired, stirring the cup of tea she’d poured him.

He’d barely finished the question before they were disturbed by animated voices and the young people rounded the shrubbery, traversing the gravel path that circled the rose bushes about twenty yards away.

Humphry’s gaze narrowed over the top of his tea cup. “Do you think Araminta will succeed in her quest?” He sounded grim.

“She has always been determined to reign over the Grange.” “But at what cost?”

Sybil was surprised at his vehemence. Humphry never criticized his eldest daughter. Now he was championing his youngest, which was rare.

Humphry shook his head. “Hetty’s worn her heart on her sleeve for years. She pined for Edgar when he went to war and she was still grieving for him when he came home. I saw the joy in her face when he walked through the door, a feeling I can tell you I was far from sharing. Just look at Araminta now. Why, she’s shameless.”

Araminta had tucked her hand into the crook of Edgar’s arm and he was mooning at her like the most devoted acolyte. Behind them trailed Hetty, looking miserable and superfluous.

A flicker of hope ignited in Sybil’s heart. Humphry never spoke so vehemently about anything regarding the family—except when he’d expressed relief at news of Edgar’s supposed death. The following day he’d begun his search for Stephen.

“There’s nothing we can do, Humphry,” she said patiently, wishing it weren’t true. “I don’t know why young Stephen can’t satisfy her,” he grumbled. “He’s dashing and charming and seemed taken with the idea of having Araminta as a tenant for life.”

Sybil knew he was well aware of the answer but she replied anyway. “He won’t make her mistress of the Grange and nor is he swimming in lard, Humphry. Araminta is used to getting what she wants and Edgar is easy prey.”

Humphry glowered as he replaced his cup in its saucer with a loud chink. “God help us all, for an unhappy lot we’re destined to be.”

Chapter Six

What an unhappy lot we’re destined to be.

Sybil couldn’t get her husband’s words out of her head. She watched the young people disappear into the house. Stephen was nowhere in sight. The knowledge he’d be here a few days more would have been comforting had she thought he had a chance of winning Araminta over.

The sad truth, however, was that Stephen had not enough affection for Araminta to be fired by the chase and Araminta...well, Araminta was determined and stubborn. She wanted to become mistress of the Grange, and that was that. Sybil rather suspected that Araminta liked the idea of being wed to someone weak and pliable whom she could thoroughly rule over.

It was also clear that Araminta was succeeding nicely in winning Edgar’s heart, which he was now wearing on his sleeve. Throughout dinner his attention skipped to his alluring elder cousin every time she made a remark.

With the eagle eyes of a concerned parent, Sybil did not miss the consequent slump of Hetty’s shoulders.