Dangerous Gentlemen Page 17

  Hetty swallowed.

  “I could easily see every illusion Lord and Lady Partington have ever entertained about their precious daughter destroyed. Have you reduced to the dung heap of society.”

  The hatred in his eye seared her. No man had ever looked at her like this. With such feeling. Until she’d accidentally crossed Sir Aubrey’s path, she’d never elicited anything other than vague, reluctant attention; attention that strayed in Araminta’s direction the moment her sister flashed a calculated smile.

  He hunkered down in front of her and gripped her shoulders. The touch of his cold fingers froze the blood in her veins. Hetty tried to scream but there was not enough air in her lungs.

  “Pay attention, Miss Henrietta,” he rasped, his hands straying to her neck. “If you do not bring me that letter, while remaining absolutely silent about it, I will ruin you and your family. Your father is not too flush in the pocket right now, is he? Rumor has it he has made a poor investment decision. I, however, have the power to ameliorate his losses.”

  His breath warmed her cheek but his words chilled her heart.

  “But only if you cooperate, Miss Henrietta,” he whispered, and Hetty cried out in pain as he pinched her cheek. “Only if you fetch me the letter, which I know you will be able to do.”

  Trembling like a jelly, Hetty whispered, “Jem was set upon this evening and nearly killed. Y-you were behind that, weren’t you?”

  “Jem’s demise was not my object.” His mouth stretched, though not into a smile. “It was the letter I wanted but it was not on his person and he chose not to inform my henchmen of its whereabouts. Now you, Miss Henrietta, are in the ideal position of ensuring that my wishes are carried out and now that I think upon it, I believe it is far more fortuitous to find you here rather than your sister after all.”

  Hetty reared back as he stroked her cheek, his handsome, dangerous face pressed against hers as he said softly, “You—and your parents—have everything to lose if I divulge the truth about you.”

  A whimper rose in Hetty’s throat. She forced it down. She’d not be reduced to a pathetic, puling child by his threats.

  He drew back, his expression softening. “On the other hand, if you cooperate, I have the means to reduce your father’s losses. All I need is that letter.” With the tip of his finger he traced the line of her lips, his expression as rapt as if she were an object of great beauty. “You have the world at your fingertips, Miss Henrietta, for you have the power to make Jem trust you.”

  He rose from his haunches to his full height, his tone confident, ugly. “I trust you will not do anything that forces my hand?”

  Hetty shook her head, for what alternative did she have?

  “Good. I see at last you are being as sensible as your sister. Miss Araminta may not be as intelligent as you but she’s wary enough to know the damage to her reputation—and to her parents—would be irreparable were she to be caught alone in a room…with a chaise longue…and only me.”

  Hetty exhaled on a little sob. How could she ever have known the price she must pay for her sins would be such an impossible one? To lose her good name was one thing but to sacrifice her father and her family was intolerable. As intolerable as destroying Sir Aubrey’s chances of regaining his reputation.

  Lord Debenham chuckled. “No need to look so desperate.” He sounded more cheerful now. “If you give me the letter it simply restores the status quo. Your beloved Sir Aubrey will be no more maligned than he is now. Furthermore, your father’s fortunes will be less damaged as a result of your good offices. Now, as to delivery, you have twenty-four hours to find that letter. My first suggestion is that lady’s maid of yours. If she’s said nothing, then she’s hiding the truth, for I’d bet my last donkey she’s been entrusted with it.”

  He rubbed his chin. “If you don’t want your dear Jane to suffer a fate similar as Jem’s, I suggest you meet me at the third supper box on the walkway behind the orchestra at the Vauxhall Gardens Grand Masquerade tomorrow. You shall know me by my military attire. Alexander the Great, no less. I shall be there at ten o’clock, Miss Henrietta.” He smiled. “And I do not expect to be as disappointed by your lack of punctuality as I have been by your sister’s. Now go, Miss Henrietta! My nephew has been asking after you all evening and I do not want to suffer his disappointment if he does not get to stand up with you at least twice.”

  * * * * *

  Araminta glanced up at Sir Aubrey and gave a despairing sigh. “I fear I must visit the ladies’ mending room if I am not to put my foot through my trimming and make a public spectacle of myself, landing flat on my face as poor Hetty once did. You should have heard the company laugh.”

  “I would not have.”

  “Poor Hetty is such a plain little creature. She finds it very difficult that all the young men dismiss her in favor of,” she tossed her head, “more desirable dance partners.”

  “I think her a charming companion.”

  Araminta sighed again. “You are so kind to spare her your attention. She’s really so grateful.”

  “It’s hardly a chore.”

  Araminta didn’t like the way his mouth quirked. “She has her sights set on Mr. Woking, you know. It’s the ideal match. Though not as handsome as some,” she sent him a meaningful look, “he has a fine estate but much too remote for some ladies’ tastes. Hetty is used to solitude. She will thrive.”

  “As the lonely wife of an ugly man?”

  Araminta’s mouth dropped open. Then realizing he was clearly sharing the joke with her, she tittered. “You really are too wicked, Sir Aubrey, the way you twist a girl’s words.”

  “Just as long as I’ve reassured you as to who is the better man. You must not allow Lord Debenham to see that letter, my dear.” Taking Araminta’s hands in his, he raised them to his lips, his expression serious. “Lord Debenham is guilty of a heinous crime, Miss Partington. It’s only a matter of time before the law catches up with him, either through the revelation of this letter or through other channels, and they do exist, my love. His Lordship is on the path to ruin.” Dropping her hands, he briefly caressed her cheek. “If you allied yourself to the cause of justice, I’d be eternally grateful.”

  Araminta smiled at him, murmuring as Hetty arrived in their midst, “In that case I promise to be worthy of such eternal warmth.”

  She knew Hetty’s stricken look ought to make her feel bad but as she picked up her skirts and hurried through the ballroom, she consoled herself that it was kinder, all in all, that Hetty be disabused of any thoughts that Sir Aubrey reciprocated her feelings. He was certainly thoughtful and charitable toward her but more in the nature of a benevolent uncle toward an unprepossessing but sweet child.

  Midnight had chimed some minutes ago but Araminta knew that leaving an eager man waiting heightened his anticipation.

  Now, as she tiptoed past the ladies’ mending room, careful to ensure she was unobserved as she sidled into the passage at right angles to it, she was conscious of her mixed emotions. Lord Debenham was frightening but somehow that only made him more exciting. Certainly she must manage this next interview with as much delicacy as she’d managed Jem. Satisfaction surged through her. She’d twisted Jem right around her little finger.

  She’d have to be just as persuasive with Lord Debenham, though the final outcome depended on what he could offer her.

  Now she just needed to make Jem understand how important it was to give her the letter. Really, there was nothing that could not be bought at the right price. And squandering large amounts of money wasn’t always necessary.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “What a charming picture you girls make.” Lady Partington looked at her daughters proudly as she entered Araminta’s bedroom, where the girls were being dressed by Jane for the masquerade.

  “And how are you, Jane?” she asked, her brow creased with concern as she put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “How is your Jem?”

  Jane pretended great concentration in positioning a ha
irpin amongst the flowers of Hetty’s headdress though the moistness of her eyes glistened in the firelight. “He’s a little better today,” she whispered. “Lord Debenham’s own doctor is attending to him.”

  Hetty was not surprised by Jane’s lack of enthusiasm when her mother responded warmly, “Oh, that is kind of him.”

  Again the same fear that had kept her awake the previous night churned through her. It was in Lord Debenham’s interest that the letter never be made public. In exchange for maintaining the current situation and delivering the letter to Lord Debenham, who would simply destroy it, Hetty would be safeguarding her reputation, Jem’s life and her father’s fortunes.

  Nothing would be any different from the way it was now, except Hetty and her family would be safe and protected. Did she not owe them that? She was canny enough to discard the notion that Lord Debenham would honor his promise of financial benefits for her father.

  All Hetty was interested in was safety for those she loved.

  Yet what of justice? Did Sir Aubrey not deserve to be publicly exonerated of the whispered charge of being a wife-beater and a Spencean?

  To Hetty’s enormous relief, Jane had slipped her the letter early this morning. A perusal of its contents had filled her with terror. Lady Margaret had spoken candidly of Lord Debenham’s involvement with those who’d attempted to assassinate Lord Castelreagh. She’d also written with the deepest remorse of her disloyalty toward her deserving husband.

  But now the only way to protect Hetty’s own family from inevitable scandal and perhaps even restore her father’s fortunes was to accede to Lord Debenham’s demands.

  She felt for the letter. She’d hastily tucked it down her décolletage and out of sight when Araminta entered the room.

  The alternative was to simply give it to Sir Aubrey. It would make him eternally grateful and he would probably offer to marry her on the spot, though she’d spend the rest of her days wondering where the fiction began. As a man of honor and kindness, he would go to great pains to pretend he cared for her. Or at least to show her that he hadn’t preferred her sister.

  By rights the letter should go to Sir Aubrey but the dangers were too great. Lord Debenham would know long before justice could be served that this is what Hetty had done. He’d act swiftly and who knew what villainy he’d be capable of?

  The outcome that produced the least collective harm would be to give it to Lord Debenham, for then Jem, Jane and the entire Partington family would be safe.

  Lady Partington lowered her heavy bulk onto the bed “I have it on good authority that Lord Debenham has shown particular interest, Araminta. Do you return his interest? You know I have my reservations about him but if you think he will make you happy…”

  Her voice trailed off and Hetty glanced over at her, noting how large she looked. She seemed content these days, though she was clearly troubled now.

  Araminta shrugged. “Cousin Stephen says Lord Debenham is set for a dukedom and appears to be gaining favor at court.”

  Hetty was surprised at the lack of delight or avarice her sister showed as she studied her reflection, obviously deciding which pair of earrings best suited her costume as a Spanish dancing girl. “Sir Aubrey mentioned it at last night’s ball,” she added before deftly changing the subject. “Now Mama, you know Hetty wanted to go as a nun but wasn’t I right in saying she should dress the same as me?”

  Gloomily, Hetty looked down at her lavishly garbed form before sending her sister an envious glance. Araminta shone. Her glossy dark ringlets cascaded down her back, swallowed up by the crimson-and-black froth of her gown. By contrast Hetty felt a pale shadow of imitation. Her gown was identical and her hair, lighter and far less striking, also fell in ringlets but she did not have that elusive element her sister possessed to carry off the ensemble. The colors and the style simply did not suit her.

  “Araminta insisted it would be amusing to be a pair,” said Hetty, swallowing down the lump of emotion that threatened to turn into tears she’d have no idea how to explain.

  “And you look lovely, darling,” Lady Partington said, reaching for Hetty’s hand when Araminta left the room to court their father’s admiration. “Hetty dearest, Stephen tells me you have lost your heart to Sir Aubrey. Your cousin is very concerned. Please, my darling, listen to good advice and stay clear of a man whose reputation is under such a cloud.”

  It was an exercise in restraint not to break down as Hetty gazed into her mother’s worried eyes. “Sir Aubrey is undeserving of society’s opinion.” She heaved in a difficult breath to add, “Not that it matters, for he loves Araminta.”

  “Araminta will not ally herself to a man who cannot offer her the moon.” Her mother sounded confident on this point. “Sir Aubrey is not a match for either of you. Don’t look so sad. He is the first man to hold your interest but he won’t be the last. You have the rest of the season before you.”

  “But no more after that, Mama. Has Papa said more about…his situation?”

  Lady Partington dropped her gaze to the Aubusson carpet and sighed. “Developments are not what he had hoped…” Raising her head, she made an obvious effort to sound bolstering. “But that is nothing for you to worry about.”

  Hetty nodded, picking up her lavish skirts to move disconsolately toward the door. She was about to let herself out when impulse made her swing ‘round to say urgently, “Mama, if you knew the truth about something or someone but it seemed better for all to withhold it, what would you do?”

  Lady Partington looked startled. “My darling, without evidence, a truth is merely a rumor. Nothing can trump hard facts. Truth is always better revealed for the world to judge. Now, let me see a smile on that pretty face of yours. Your father remarked only a moment ago that you were turning into a swan. Just make sure you don’t act impulsively when it comes to choosing a husband, Hetty. It would be wrong to take the first opportunity that comes your way simply because you think your father’s situation dictates you must.”

  Hetty was about to leave when Jane waylaid her with a hand on her arm. “Miss Hetty, yer sister’s bin asking me for the letter I gave you. She flew into the boughs when I told her I didn’t have it.” The faith with which the little maid confided her next fears was like a dagger. “I couldn’t bear the thought I’d given it to the wrong person, for I know she were intending to pass it straight on to Lord Debenham in return for his fancy promises.”

  To the wrong person.

  Jane’s words echoed ‘round Hetty’s head later as she sat in the family carriage squeezed between Cousin Amelia and Araminta on their way to the masquerade at Vauxhall.

  So Araminta intended giving the letter to Lord Debenham? But what about the limpid looks she’d exchanged with Sir Aubrey? The way they’d looked at each other at the ball the previous night made her feel sick with despair.

  She nodded her head at a question Cousin Amelia asked while her thoughts raced off on a different tangent. What was Araminta playing at? Fire, certainly, but was she pretending to Sir Aubrey that she was going to retrieve the letter from Jane to give to him when all the time she was intending to hand it to Lord Debenham?

  Hetty had been sure Araminta planned to give Sir Aubrey the letter in view of her lack of enthusiasm for Lord Debenham lately. He was more personable and attractive than Lord Debenham and in making the letter public, Araminta would be responsible for removing the bar that hindered him politically. Hetty had assumed they’d be married before the season was over. Araminta was the sister who stirred a man’s lustful intentions to heights of madness. She’d held Sir Aubrey at arm’s length until he was slavering for more. Once she’d given him the letter they’d be off to the altar in a puff of smoke. Meanwhile Jem and Hetty’s family would all be in danger.

  With a self-pitying sniff, Hetty conceded that when all was said and done, she was the one whose sins were the greater. She’d offered what no man could resist—a woman’s body for the taking. Beyond the transitory physical trade there was nothing. She was not
hing.

  She felt for the letter inside her reticule, where she’d transferred it, and was immediately swamped by nausea. Lord Debenham was dangerous. Violent. Unless he had the letter, her reputation was in ruins and so would her father be. Perhaps this was Araminta’s insurance. She’d give him the letter in exchange for marriage—and who knew what else. She liked to live dangerously, after all.

  That would mean Sir Aubrey was free for Hetty. It was not a liberating thought. She was the sister to whom he’d offered an arrangement he was free to break at any time. Not the respectable chains of matrimony.

  Their country cousins were in their element. Squealing with delight at the lavish spectacle of so many fabulously garbed people, the two girls, dressed as shepherdesses, hurried their cassock-garbed brother into the melee, leaving Hetty to trail behind Araminta, who sashayed forth on Cousin Stephen’s arm.

  The crowd was thick and it wasn’t until she was conscious of so many actually pressing in on her that Hetty realized Sir Aubrey was walking close beside her.

  His smile made her insides turn to jelly but she stuck out her chin and pretended she didn’t see him. The sudden spectacular explosion of fireworks caused a general shout of excitement and briefly Hetty found her hand encased in Sir Aubrey’s large, comforting one.

  Not knowing how it had happened and aware of her proximity to the rest of her family, she snatched it away as she tried to make herself immune to his charm.

  “I’ve missed you, Hetty.”

  Her mouth dropped open. He actually sounded sincere, but then she realized he needed to ensure she remained kindly disposed toward him and she forced hardness into her tone. “I am not the one you’re interested in, so pray don’t trouble me, sir. Araminta is over there.”

  She pointed. Her sister, in profile, looked utterly irresistible, her full lips parted in a smile of genuine delight, her eyes shining.

  “Her beauty is but skin deep. You are the engaging one,” he murmured.