Her Gilded Prison (Daughters of Sin 1)

He stopped a few feet from her. “I thought you were Hetty until I got close up. I thought she needed some comfort.” He smiled. “Now I see it’s you and, if you don’t mind my saying, I think you look a little in need of comfort.”

How commendable that he saw beyond the limits of his own disappointments. Nevertheless, she bypassed this as she tried for a flippant note. “So you thought I was Hetty until my haggard visage came into the light.”

“I don’t know why you disparage yourself, Lady Partington.” Frown lines furrowed his brow. “I think you’re quite lovely.”

“Quite lovely!” She’d not meant to exclaim it as if she wished for confirmation or to hear his words again.

“You sound as if you are not in the habit of receiving compliments.”

“A woman of my age no longer receives compliments, Stephen.” She put her hand to her heart, which was doing silly palpitations. “Nor did I receive them when I was younger.”

“Lord Partington married a beautiful woman and I’ve heard him compliment his daughters. Both of them. Perhaps you misinterpret his veiled form of flattery.”

“I do not think the mistake is mine.” Best to change the subject. “Nevertheless you’re correct in surmising the state of poor Hetty’s heart. She is bereft and I don’t know what to do.”

She was keenly aware of Stephen’s closeness. There was now almost no distance between them. She put her hand to her face, hoping he’d not notice her heightened color. He’d scorn her if he knew what his close proximity did to her. An old woman, or at least nearly old enough to be his mother. Ridiculous.

“I wish I could help, Lady Partington.” He shrugged. “Araminta is the most determined young lady I’ve met but as I’ve said before, I have no wish to change her mind.”

Sybil sighed. “I wish you did.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Would you seriously promote a match between your eldest daughter and a penniless cousin? I have nothing to recommend me.”

“Except a handsome face and a kind heart.” Impulsively she put out her hand and touched his arm. “I did not properly appreciate you when you first arrived. I’m sorry.” To her confusion he closed his hands around her wrist. He stood so close she could feel his heat.

“I know.” He grinned down at her. “Does it take a lot to persuade you out of your prejudices, Lady Partington? You were wrong about me and you are wrong in your self-assessment, though it seems I cannot persuade you otherwise.” While he spoke his thumb was unconsciously caressing the underneath of her wrist. It seemed he’d not noticed. Perhaps he was used to addressing desirable women in intimate situations like this. Perhaps he truly did think her desirable. In the dim light he’d deluded himself into imagining her a generation younger.

“I’ve been made very welcome since I’ve come here. I only wish there was something I could do to help the family.”

* * * * *

Something I could do to help the family.

A thought that had lain repressed and dormant burst inside her head. He was proposing a solution. She’d been mulling over solutions. He was charming and handsome, the heir Humphry had wished for. And he did not find her repugnant.

In the instant before her careful self-censoring shutter closed upon her lips, brazen courage forced itself out of her depths. She whispered, “But there is.”

Instantly she checked herself. Dear Lord, had she really uttered those words? She must have for his head was tilted and his expression inquiring.

Before she could lose her nerve she went on quickly, “The only way to prevent

Edgar from becoming the next heir is for me to provide one.” She flicked her tongue over dry lips. “If I am carrying the possible next heir, Araminta will relinquish Edgar.”

Her heart thundered in her ears. She swallowed painfully, hesitated then burst out, “Will you help me, Stephen?”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry—hysterically, of course—at the look on his face.

Withdrawing her hands she said, stepping back quickly, “I have embarrassed you. I apologize. It is late and I do not know what I’m saying.”

His hand shot out and he grasped her wrist, pulling her to him and lowering his head to hers as if to study her better. To her astonishment he cupped her face and said slowly, “Is that a proposition?”

Embarrassment washed over her, replaced by relief that he’d repeated the question, giving her the opportunity to withdraw with dignity. Thank God for his clear thinking, for she had never spoken more rashly in her life. Propositioning a younger man? What must he think of her?

Yet when she tried to snatch away her hand, muttering that she had no idea what had come over her, he would not relinquish it. A potent cocktail of mortification and fear churned in Sybil’s belly, not eased when he said softly, ignoring her babbled refutation, “If that is a proposition then the pleasure of it alone would be most enticing.”

Sybil sucked in a deep breath. No, this was wrong. She wasn’t even sure how she’d reached this point but it seemed he sensed she’d lost courage, for he gently put his finger to her lips and said, “With all due respect, Lady Partington, I was led to believe you were unable to provide His Lordship with an heir. It is of course the reason, I surmised, that I was invited here.”

Sybil swayed at the rush of blood from her head. Suddenly Stephen’s arms were about her shoulders, keeping her upright as she forced out the words. “Humphry has kept a mistress since before we were married. Together he and I have had four children but when we tried for another child after George died, Humphry was unable to...to...” She shrugged, unable to finish. “This afternoon I begged him to try with me again.” She looked down at her trembling hands, clasped across her stomach. “He was very kind and apologetic,” she murmured, “but made it clear it was quite out of the question. It seems the idea of being intimate with me is clearly so distasteful—”