Dangerous Gentlemen (Daughters of Sin 2)

“I’ll see that you’re brought to justice,” squealed Hetty, terror making her shrill. “That letter could have you swing! Unless you want that, you’d better let me go.”

“You really think such a threat is likely to make me release you?” He looked disbelieving. “The fewer witnesses the better, Miss Henrietta.” She whimpered as he gripped her throat, the sobs coming louder when he dropped his hands with a laugh. “Perhaps, in fact, it would be more amusing to be the one to make public your peccadilloes. What do you think people will say when they hear you came to visit me here alone? A woman who’s lost her virtue has little credibility in the eyes of a critical society.”

“The only one who’s lost credibility is you, Debenham!” Through the door burst her husband, snarling the rejoinder as Hetty struggled in her assailant’s embrace.

“Sir Aubrey!” she wept, relief swamping her as she reached out her arms.

The flare of joy in his expression sustained her for a moment. Then Debenham threw her roughly against the wall before bending to snatch up the glass that had contained his arrack. In one smooth, sudden action, he smashed it upon the low table, brandishing the jagged base as he spun to seize Hetty ‘round the neck.

“Hetty!” Araminta wailed as she flew into the room in Sir Aubrey’s wake.

Lord Debenham, still holding Hetty around the neck, raised an eyebrow. “Miss Partington, how delightful that you made our assignation at last. So you’ve come to give me the letter in return for the release of our little hostage?”

The fearful gaze Araminta turned upon Sir Aubrey was, Hetty suspected, more on her own account than Hetty’s. “I don’t know what you mean,” she whispered.

Hetty made a strangled noise. “Araminta, you took the letter, I know you did!”

Araminta shook her head. “I…I hid it,” she said unconvincingly.

Sir Aubrey stepped forward, his eyes boring into Hetty’s, offering her the courage she needed as he said, “I couldn’t care less what becomes of the letter. All I want is Hetty.”

Araminta’s satisfied laugh turned all eyes on her as she said, “Well, that’s easy then—for I have it. Now all I need is an offer of marriage from Sir Aubrey and I’ll happily hand it over.”

Lord Debenham, with a disgusted snort, thrust Hetty away. Quickly she ran to the sanctuary of her beloved’s embrace, resting her head against his hard chest as his arms banded about her. The relief of finding safety with the man who’d captured her heart was increased when she heard the satisfaction in his voice.

“I’m afraid that even if I had the slightest desire to accede to your threats, Miss Partington—which I do not—your demands are impossible to fulfill. Your sister and I were married less than an hour ago by special license.”

“No!” Araminta’s shriek was a joy to listen to.

Hetty glanced up at Sir Aubrey as he drew her in tighter, and saw all the love she felt for him reflected in his answering expression.

Like Hetty, he clearly felt no sympathy for Araminta, who held her hands to her face as she sank upon the cushions, wailing, “Tell me it’s a lie, Henrietta! Tell me you would never be so underhanded!”

Hetty was happy to show open exultation at that. “Underhanded, Araminta? I cannot see how you’d think so. Nevertheless, it’s true. I became Sir Aubrey’s wife moments before I came here to claim the letter.”

Lord Debenham’s eyes were trained with malevolent intent upon her sister. His lips twitched and Hetty knew she should perhaps feel a twinge of concern on Araminta’s behalf but, she consoled herself, her new husband had already shown he knew how to keep order.

He spoke now, his eyes kindling with warmth as they rested on her. “My Henrietta has shown the most enormous courage and astonishing loyalty toward me.” Hetty felt she’d never been happier in her life as he went on. “I’m sorry, Miss Partington, but you are the underhanded one, and your devious behavior tonight has only proved how much worthier your younger sister is of my enduring and heartfelt love and admiration.”

Hetty, glowing, believed she could have listened to such compliments uttered in the public domain forever. Clearly Araminta had heard enough, though, for she leapt up, eyes blazing.

“What is this worth to you, Lord Debenham…Sir Aubrey?” she demanded, dipping her hand into her décolletage before brandishing the letter they’d been seeking.

Stepping backward, she lowered the parchment so that it hovered just above the guttering candle. “All of you have betrayed me. Hetty, you took what was rightfully mine. Lord Debenham,” she spat, “I once considered you a worthy suitor but I’d not wish you on my worst enemy, knowing what a hateful, hideous creature you are.”

Lord Debenham took a slow, calculated breath. His smile was evil. “You would do well to burn the letter, Miss Partington. It must have been a terrible shock to find yourself a victim of Sir Aubrey’s disloyalty since he gave you every reason to believe he’d make you an honorable offer. No doubt you want to destroy that letter as much as you want to destroy the man who dashed your hopes.”

It occurred to Hetty that Araminta might use the leverage of the letter to win Lord Debenham over, but Hetty certainly no longer cared. Sir Aubrey could not have ma

de clearer the sincerity of his feelings, and she knew that with time, he’d earn back the respect of the public through his own efforts. For he’d proved himself a decent and honorable man.

She turned to leave, surprised when her husband hesitated. She glanced up at him, then over at the table where her sister stood.

“Miss Partington.” Sir Aubrey fixed Araminta with a gaze of such warmth and appreciation, Hetty tensed to contain her jealousy. But then he went on. “No amount of inducement or blackmail is more important to me than securing my happiness through Hetty’s consent to be my wife tonight. The ink is dry on the special license, and shortly I will inform Lord Partington of the happy state of affairs. Do what you will, for I am about to take my wife…home.”

Hetty returned the pressure of her husband’s hand and felt her insides cleave at the thought of what being taken “home” actually meant.

Araminta’s expression was panicked. Hovering over the candle, waving the letter that neither man wanted enough to accede to her demands, must have been galling. As Sir Aubrey lowered his face to touch Hetty’s lips briefly, Hetty had never felt more clearly how much the tables had turned with regard to herself and her sister.