Dangerous Gentlemen (Daughters of Sin 2)

is man of business is not entirely despondent, however, until—”

Hetty put a comforting hand on her mother’s while Araminta wailed, “We’re ruined! Is that what you’re saying, Papa? We’re ruined and we’ll have to go out and work as governesses unless we marry quickly.” There was both genuine distress and craftiness in her expression as she cut into her parents’ responses. “Before the scandal breaks, we must find husbands, isn’t that what you’re saying?”

“Well, now, Araminta, though there is some truth in—” her father began, but Araminta had already come up with a solution.

Looking decidedly more cheerful, she said, “I shall do my part, Papa. In fact I solemnly vow that I’ll have made a grand match before two weeks is up so you need not concern yourself over me.” She pinched Hetty’s arm. “Now you, also, must make sacrifices, Hetty, but instead of being a governess, which would be such a terrible reflection on the family—and since you’ve made it plain you’ll have nothing to do with Mr. Woking, who would offer for you if you only smiled at him—I know that old Lady Fotheringay is looking for a companion.” She looked expectantly at Hetty. “I know her niece so I shall make inquiries—”

It was their father who cut in, his voice raised in both anger and exasperation. “Neither of you will make the kind of sacrifices that will see you wed in haste to unsuitable husbands or forced to work for your livings.” In an undertone, he added, “Sadly, I have seen that fate visited on undeserving young women. Bear in mind that you are a great deal more fortunate than others in your situation.”

“Indeed you are,” Lady Partington said, also under her breath, and Hetty glanced at the two of them. She’d once overheard a couple of gossiping dowagers in a quiet corner of a ballroom referring to “Lord Partington’s secret brood”. Until she’d become more acquainted with the ways of the world, the whispered conversation had made no sense.

Now she narrowed her eyes as she wondered if he could be making a more literal reference to this “other” family. This second secret family he was unable to protect and fund as he did his legitimate one?

Without warning she was visited by a memory of the young woman who’d visited The Grange several months earlier on the pretext of finding favor for a new school for girls. She’d borne an uncanny resemblance to Araminta. Of course, she could not question her father at the time but as he farewelled this young woman, Hetty had heard him say under his breath that she’d been wrong to come to the house.

Araminta sniffed. “Whatever is required of me, Papa, I shall do it gladly.” She broke off, a dazzling smile dispersing her air of tragedy. “Why, here’s Sir Aubrey! What a coincidence. Papa, this is a wonderful opportunity for you to amend your opinion. Good afternoon, Sir Aubrey.”

Araminta inclined her head demurely while Hetty, beside her, hung back in horror, praying that her sister’s glorious smile and the floral festooning of her hat would be sufficient to render her invisible.

Dear Lord, this had to be the stuff of her greatest nightmares. In a crowded ballroom she could have slipped away but here, in the street and hemmed in by her family, her real identity was never more apparent.

As usual, Araminta stole the attention with her busy chatter. Hetty bent down on the pretext of adjusting her boot. When she rose it was to find herself staring fully into Sir Aubrey’s surprised then horrified face.

“Sir Aubrey,” she acknowledged, making a small curtsy, her shame weighing her down so heavily she was surprised she was able to rise.

Araminta, still chattering, did not seem to notice that her handsome potential suitor had eyes only for Hetty. “My father is down from The Grange for a few days attending to business. His arrival last night was quite a surprise.”

“Quite a surprise.” Sir Aubrey’s echo was lackluster.

Lady Partington filled the awkward silence. “I believe you hail from Hampshire, Sir Aubrey. My cousin is on familiar terms with members of your family. Mr. and Mrs. Dorian Waddington.”

“You refer to my aunt and uncle. Quiet people who don’t seek out London revels as I do, my lady.” There was a twist to his mouth. Almost a warning, Hetty might have imagined, that hinted at the danger he posed. That he enjoyed living up to his reputation.

Lady Partington raised her eyebrows at his less than friendly tone. “So you enjoy London then?”

“There’s so much to see and do and experience, I don’t know where to start,” gushed Araminta. “Of course, an unmarried young lady is very restricted.”

“Indeed.”

The word was accompanied by a short but very well-aimed look at Hetty who, quailing, dropped her gaze to her half-kid boots. She wished the pavement would open up and she’d disappear into a puff of smoke, never to suffer the consequences of this terrible, terrible conversation.

Clapping her hands, Araminta raised a bright face. “I hear you’ve acquired a new phaeton, Sir Aubrey. You will no doubt be looking for any opportunity to put it through its paces? Perhaps this afternoon?”

Her bold inquiry received a lukewarm response, though Sir Aubrey clearly felt good manners made it incumbent to offer an invitation.

“Then Hetty will accompany her sister.” Lord Partington looked dark. “I will not have tongues wagging.”

Araminta simpered. “Wagging tongues? Oh, Papa, you are funny.”

Hetty noticed that Sir Aubrey seemed to find this as funny as her father. The thunderous scowl on his face was not a good sign.

“In fact, Stephen shall accompany both you girls, and you may take it in turns to drive around the park.” Lord Partington’s frown deepened.

There was apparently no argument to be had about this and Araminta, despite her initial cajoling, was left with a petulant lower lip until she decided it was no doubt wise to end the walk with her usual charm.

“Sir Aubrey is fantastically rich,” she gushed once he had made a polite bow and departed with the trite and clearly forced words that he was looking forward to their meeting in several hours. “And he’s in line for a title if his cousin doesn’t sire an heir—which it’s highly likely he won’t as he’s ancient. Fifty, I believe.”

Her mother cut her off, saying in brittle tones, “So you would risk your happiness for the sake of your position?” Her pursed mouth trembled. “So that you can dress in ermine and silk rather than commoner stuff? So that you can drive around in a crested carriage?”