The Mysterious Governess (Daughters of Sin 3)

“Obviously, your aunt was very silly and careless with her reputation,” Araminta had replied, earning a predictable glare and then the rather uncomfortable response. “I’m not supposed to know this, but they were going to elope and she’d gone to the inn where they’d agreed to meet and set off,” Miss Hoskings had paused, looking first uncertain, then shifty, before whispering in a rush, “the next day! While she was waiting, Lord Debenham remembered something important and went off to fetch it, only he suffered a delay of some hours and in the meantime, her father caught up with her...tied to the bedposts!”

Araminta could not hide her horror. She’d heard that Miss Hoskings was prone to the vapors and that she spent a great deal of time in the ladies’ mending room during these entertainments. Araminta wondered if spouting tall tales about gentlemen who’d spurned her or family members was an antidote to the inevitability of sitting out most dances as a wilting wallflower. Araminta sniffed and adopted her most haughty tone. “It might have been wise for your aunt to have thought more carefully about the potential damage to her good name if she was so easily compromised.”

Still, it was a salutary tale, though Araminta wondered—if it were true—why Miss Hoskings was the one banished to the country, never to be heard of again, and Lord Debenham had gone on to make his fortune and to cut quite a dash in the fashionable world.

Nevertheless, Lord Debenham’s lack of regard was enough to make Araminta think twice about courting His Lordship’s interest. A girl had to be strategic. Perhaps the very handsome and rather enigmatic Sir Aubrey was a better bet, despite the rumors flying around of some kind of scandal attached to him. But as he was still received, that was really all that mattered.

Hetty, having tied her garter then straightened her dress and bonnet, hesitated in the doorway. “You think you can charm the birds from the trees, Araminta, and maybe you can, but mark my words, you’re going to land in a bramble bush,” she said softly. “I predict that by the end of the season you’ll be marrying either Mr. Woking, and spending your days pleasing a fool for your pin money, or you’ll get your just desserts and have no choice but to wed evil Lord Debenham and be miserable.”

But Araminta had just decided at that very moment what she was going to be doing by the end of the season.

She flashed Hetty a smile. “No, I’m not, Hetty, because I’ve decided to marry Sir Aubrey. Thank you so much for laying out my options with such exquisite acuity. Indeed, I shall marry Sir Aubrey! You just see if I don’t.”

Her sister’s outrage was marvelous to behold—and it also made Araminta think that if Hetty had indeed lost her foolish, susceptible heart to Sir Aubrey, she needed to be taught a lesson so she was less careless of it in future.

***

The afternoon was to become even more entertaining, however, with the arrival of a strange and rather shocking note delivered by Araminta’s maid, Jane.

At first Araminta was so scandalized she could only imagine it a hoax. But on the heels of her indignation came curiosity. Of course, the writer—a young woman, claiming to bear an uncanny resemblance to Araminta that had been remarked upon by a certain member of high society—could only be a thief or a confidence trickster. How could she possibly imagine Araminta would just hand over a dress on the spurious claim the two had been mistaken for sisters, and that this young lady had an important mission to undertake which might benefit Araminta?

Araminta was always ready to take advantage of something that might benefit her, but this was going too far.

However, a few minutes later, Araminta couldn’t help herself. She hadn’t responded to the note, but yet she was at the bottom of the garden at the stipulated time, and when the young woman, a governess out for a walk with her two young charges, stopped by, Araminta was struck by both fascination and revulsion as she realized the truth of the young woman’s claim. She did indeed bear a striking resemblance to her. More than that, she was disturbingly familiar, and while Araminta had pledged to remain ignorant of the strange undercurrents of her father’s household in the country, the temptation to learn more was too tempting.

Especially when she learned it was Lord Debenham who had remarked upon the resemblance between them.

Upon further consideration, Araminta decided that if this young person was required to sketch His Lordship and needed a decent dress to do so, Araminta was ready to facilitate something that would gain her a greater insight into His Lordship’s conduct when Araminta was not around.

Sir Aubrey would also be at Mrs. Gargery’s garden party. Araminta was to be accompanying her mother to see the wild animals at the tower of London, but having Miss Hazlett keep an eye on the competition might serve Araminta rather well.

Miss Hazlett. Araminta asked if she were related to the Hazletts in her village, as her father had bought a pony from a Mrs. Hazlett who had lived in the cottage by the bridge.

Miss Hazlett had been vague, only saying that a great many tears had been shed over that horse.

***

Lissa, for her part, had regarded the proceedings with more dispassion. After all, she’d long known of Araminta’s existence. And no, she refused to refer to her in less than familiar terms, at least to herself. Araminta was no better than Lissa, just more fortunate.

It was their father whose sins had condemned three of his five surviving children to live lives shadowed by shame. Lissa’s brother, Ned, was more accepting than either Lissa or the fiercely spirited and dramatic Kitty, who said she would rather die or become an actress than be condemned to living out her life and branded a bastard in the village where she’d been born.

For the moment, however, it was in Lissa’s interests to keep up the charade that she had no idea of the real identity of Miss Araminta Partington; that she simply was trading on a chance likeness.

Araminta had cast her supercilious gaze over Lissa and clearly found her wanting before she summed up, “So, you’re asking for the loan of a gown, in return for information on a certain gentleman in whom I believe you have an interest. That’s a bold statement. Who do you suppose I’m interested in?”

“Lord Debenham. I was at Lady Knox’s ball and I observed you dancing with him immediately after he’d claimed a dance from me. You were interested but you were unsure, too. Now you’d like me to help you ascertain what kind of gentleman he really is, otherwise, you’d have chosen to ignore my note.”

“Oh, you are good.” A gurgle of genuine mirth bubbled up from within the other girl. “I shan’t pay you a penny, if you’re hoping for money, but I shall lend you a gown—and if you don’t give it back you will regret it, I promise you that. But here.”

She handed a parcel over the fence and Lissa took it with a plethora of feelings warring within her. Anger at the world for putting her in the position of supplicant, anger at Araminta Partington for having the life Lissa should have had, and simple curiosity as to what might transpire tomorrow.

“Well, aren’t you going to thank me from the bottom of your heart?”

Lissa only just managed to refrain from rolling her eyes. “I haven’t seen the dress yet. It’s possible you’ve set out to humiliate me and the gown is too short or else in screamingly bad style.”

Araminta shrugged. “Take it and see for yourself. Though not before you pledge to give me a full report within two days’ time.”

***