Dangerous Gentlemen (Daughters of Sin 2)

Araminta raised her eyebrows. “You know a lot for someone who only danced with our cousin.” She settled herself more comfortably against the squabs and smiled. “If you’re so good at ferreting out such information, perhaps you won’t be entirely useless this season after all.”

Chapter Two

The life of a debutante is a busy one, regardless of how successful she is. Araminta was in demand for her walks and shopping expeditions with various “bosom buddies” she’d made during her ten short days in London. Agreeing to all and sundry with enthusiasm, she informed Hetty and Stephen that her popularity with these young ladies was due to their hope Araminta’s loveliness would draw the young men into their general orbit.

For Hetty, life was no less busy, as their chaperone Mrs. Monks decided Hetty’s lack of success could be ameliorated by assiduous training in the art of deportment and associated graces.

So while Araminta shopped and promenaded, Hetty paced the drawing room with half a dozen books balanced on her head and a long wooden ruler inserted between her stays and her chemise.

Dubiously, Mrs. Monks finally declared Hetty as ready as she’d ever be for the grand ball that was being held to mark the debut of the lovely and vivacious Miss Felicity Pangbourne.

Hetty had, by this stage, lost all interest in the social events that inspired such excitement and confident expectation in her sister. They merely reinforced Hetty’s inadequacy. Even the knowledge that Sir Aubrey’s attendance was assured, since he was currently Mr. Pangbourne’s houseguest, could not jolt her out of her gloom.

By the time the carriage drew up in front of the fine London townhouse on the night of the ball, Hetty’s spirits were at their lowest ebb.

“What do you wager that either Sir Aubrey or Lord Debenham will ask me to dance three times this evening?” Araminta asked coquettishly as the girls stepped out of the carriage and mounted the stairs toward the double doors being held open by two footmen.

“Neither will, for it’s tantamount to making you an offer, which they won’t on such limited acquaintance.”

Araminta fanned herself languidly as she contemplated this. “Oh, I know Sir Aubrey well enough…” She could barely contain her secret excitement as she added, “But I intend to know him a great deal better before the evening is over.”

Stephen, who had accompanied his cousins due to Mrs. Monks’ taking ill at the last moment, looked dark as he stepped aside to let the girls pass into the ballroom. “You be sure to convey to your silly sister that Sir Aubrey is one gentleman she must steer clear of,” he murmured in Hetty’s ear.

“You’d better tell her, for she won’t listen to me,” responded Hetty as the warmth of the crowded room enveloped her, making her shiver with apprehension.

“I mentioned my concern in the mildest terms, for the last thing I want is to whip up Araminta’s interest. She might take it as a challenge. However, judging by that long face of yours, I’d wager you aren’t averse to a little attention from out-of-bounds quarters either. Well, for once, Hetty, I’m glad you’re not in any danger.”

“Because I’m plain and frumpy?”

Ignoring this as he led the girls to a relatively secluded corner, he responded smoothly, “Shy and self-effacing, which is far more appealing. Sir Aubrey prefers young ladies like your sister and I wish I’d spoken earlier to Araminta as she’s hardly likely to heed your warnings.”

“Not where a handsome gentleman is concerned,” muttered Hetty, fiddling with her fan. She looked up. “I still haven’t heard anyone else speak ill of him with the vigor you do.”

“That’s because I work for the Foreign Office and they don’t.” His tone gentled. “Please, Hetty, I want you wed to someone worthy of you. You are so like your mother. You need to be nurtured. I know things about Sir Aubrey I cannot tell you.”

Hetty stared at the points of her dancing slippers peeking from beneath the rose-flounced hem of her cream-and-gold sarcenet, with its tiny gauze sleeves. She truly had felt like a fairy princess as Jane had helped her dress this evening. Pearls were woven into her hair and she’d thought her face more sculpted and her complexion improve

d. Then Araminta had commented that with her high color, Hetty was bound to soon develop fat ankles, so therefore Araminta had made it her mission to match Hetty with a worthy contender “before it was too late”.

Meanwhile Stephen was warming to his theme. “A traitor risks the gallows. Since our last conversation I’ve heard even more alarming stories.”

“So Sir Aubrey would slit my throat if he regarded me as a threat?” Hetty knew she sounded combative.

“Really, Hetty, now you’re being childish.” Cousin Stephen frowned. “Lord Debenham has made these claims and Lord Debenham is a highly regarded politician. Sir Aubrey, by contrast, is a wastrel. He sought public office but no one would sponsor him. The reasons speak for themselves.”

“Lord Debenham?” Araminta joined the conversation, adding in eager tones, “There he is dancing with Miss Pangbourne. I hope he asks me.”

“I’m sure he will if that’s what you desire.” Stephen quirked an eyebrow. “And you’d do well to snare him, though I’ve heard tell he has something of a reputation for playing fast and loose with feminine hearts.”

“Oh yes, he was madly in love with his cousin Lady Margaret, who killed herself last year.” Araminta tapped Hetty on the shoulder with her fan. “Lady Margaret was married to Sir Aubrey but Cousin Stephen warns we must steer clear of Sir Aubrey. Not that it’s a concern for you, Hetty, however I really don’t know what I’ll say to put him off when he asks me to dance.”

“I dare you to refuse,” Hetty challenged. “Oh look, Lord Debenham is looking at you, Araminta. I think he’s coming over here.”

Hetty closed her gaping mouth as she stared at the raven-haired gentleman whose severe black dress was alleviated by a snowy-white cravat. He looked the height of sartorial elegance, yet there was something sinister and unnerving about his arrogant bearing and the almost disdainful way he looked down his Roman nose at Araminta, whom he had clearly in his sights.

As he engaged her sister to dance, Hetty decided that a man who wore shirt points sharp enough to cut one’s throat, and whose shoes, like his hair, were polished to the gleam of a raven’s wing, was not to be trusted.

“So you’d approve of a match between Araminta and Lord Debenham?” Hetty asked, as Stephen led her onto the dance floor for the following dance.