Dangerous Gentlemen (Daughters of Sin 2)

“I…I’ve heard men can discard their mistresses at any time. What…what security will I have?”

There was uncertainty in his laugh. “I’m assuming innocence, not avarice, motivated your question.”

Fortunately he seemed entirely mollified when she declared, “I told you I only ever want you!”

“Just as I want only you. I do not offer my affections lightly, dear heart, but you have worked your way under my guard.”

Pleasure washed through her before it was diluted by concern. “I’ve heard there’s a Miss Araminta Partington who has caught your eye. Perhaps you were thinking of marrying her.”

Sir Aubrey laughed, shaking his head. “She’d eat me for breakfast. No, dearest Hetty, you are all I want and need.”

“One day you will want an heir,” she said softly.

He put his finger to her lips. “Now is not the time to talk of such things. Suffice to say that Miss Partington, while exceedingly beautiful, fails to amuse me as you do with your artless ways and your diverting conversation. Dear heart, I look forward to dining with you each night and hearing of your latest shopping exploits as much as I look forward to bedding you, for you would imbue both with wit and enthusiasm. Miss Partington, on the other hand, thinks only of her own amusement. I could not endure a wife like that.”

Hetty had never been so happy. But she had mixed feelings when he added, “Sadly, darling Henrietta, you embody all the virtues I seek in a wife.” There was genuine regret in his expression before he feathered a line of kisses along her jawbone. “You do understand that I can never marry you.”

Chapter Nine

Fortune favored Hetty as she crept into the kitchen unobserved several hours later, for the sleepy boot boy had left the kitchen door open. The cook was not yet about and Hetty met none of the servants as she slipped into her bedchamber.

Araminta, of course, was not awake, so Hetty was able to sink wearily into her bed, relieved her clandestine activities had once again gone unnoticed.

Her last waking thought was that she wished she didn’t have to wait another two whole days before Jem could meet her. For her entire future hinged upon what was revealed in the letter he’d promised to show her.

It seemed only five minutes had passed before Araminta was pulling her hair and saying in outraged tones, “No sleeping cap? How low your standards have fallen, Hetty.”

Hetty braced herself for Araminta’s inevitable grilling before her sister sat heavily on the side of the bed, saying waspishly, “You and Cousin Stephen certainly had lots to talk about, despite your megrim. I heard the two of you in the study. I hope you don’t imagine he’ll consider making you an offer, for he’s already declared he will not marry his cousin.”

Still groggy, Hetty murmured, “Like you, Araminta, I’m sure I won’t receive an offer in my first season.”

Araminta ignored this, though the flare in her eyes indicated the jibe had not gone unheeded. She rose, saying airily, “Mama and I are going for a walk a little later and Papa is down from The Grange. He arrived when we were at Lady Kilmore’s and says he wants to see you. He was vastly put out you’d not made the effort to greet him at breakfast.”

“I didn’t know he was here.”

“Well, he’s taken it as a grave insult. Of course he knew not to expect me, since I was up so late, but you came home early and talked all night with Cousin Stephen.”

Hetty raised her eyebrows, wondering who Cousin Stephen had been talking to, but she wasn’t about to tell her sister it wasn’t her. “I came home because the close air at Lady Kilmore’s made me ill.” Hetty glared at Araminta. “And maybe I still am. You didn’t trouble you

rself to inquire, Araminta, did you?”

“Well…” Araminta had moved to sit at the dressing table by this time. Even after such a late night and in dishabille, which was a refashioned old gown of their mother’s and which of course she’d not be seen wearing in public, Araminta looked vibrant and exquisite. “Jane would have told us if there was anything to worry about. But you’re as hale and hearty as a dependable old donkey, Hetty. We’ve always said it.”

The description had been given Hetty by a fond uncle many years ago and it still had the power to wound. He’d described Araminta as resembling a glossy, raven-coated, highly strung magnificent stallion and Hetty as the faithful donkey whose dependability made up for its unremarkable dung-colored hide. Oh, he’d meant it kindly, for his point was that he preferred dependability over uncertainty any day. Needless to say, Araminta had taken it as a compliment and was happy to bring it up in front of Hetty whenever the occasion arose.

It was only the memory of Sir Aubrey’s disparaging remarks about Araminta the previous night and the fact he wanted exclusive rights to Hetty—even if it wasn’t in the form of a legal union—that enabled Hetty to crawl out of bed in a cloud of joy, despite her sister’s unkind reference.

A joy short-lived, for as she put her shawl about her, Araminta, who was toying with her hair, announced, “Sir Aubrey has invited me to promenade with him this afternoon.” She sent Hetty a sly look from beneath her lashes as she twisted her neck, clearly interested in Hetty’s response, which was obviously transparent.

Affecting a show of sympathy, Araminta reached over and patted her arm. “Poor Hetty, I know you’ve admired Sir Aubrey from afar and indeed I can see why but he’s never asked you to dance or paid his addresses in the ballroom, has he?” She placed several pairs of kidskin gloves on the dressing table and held out her hands to admire her long, elegant fingers. “I can’t imagine how dreadful it must be to be so plain that you’re ignored by the one gentleman you evince a desire to know. Or should I say the two, for perhaps you think Lord Debenham might be your consolation prize since you seem to know so much about him too.”

With a sigh, she rose from the dressing table, adding with even greater self-absorption than usual, “I’ve been thinking…” She cupped her face with her hands as if her thoughts had plunged her onto the horns of a dilemma. “Do you think my sprigged muslin will do for my outing with Sir Aubrey or would you recommend my blue sarcenet? I’ve heard you say it sets off my coloring rather finely.”

“I only said that when you’d not leave me alone without saying something flattering,” Hetty muttered.

But Araminta wasn’t listening.

“The sprigged muslin, I think,” she said as she wandered to the door. “It’s refreshingly modest at the same time as being highly modish.” She turned. “And I think it would be a nice idea if you popped your head in to see if Mama needs anything. You seem to have rather neglected her lately.”