Dangerous Gentlemen Page 19

  Footsteps crunching on the walkway made them draw away guiltily, a short rap on the door seeming to underline their recent transgressions. However, when a solemn-faced clergyman was shown in, Hetty gasped with delighted surprise, squeezing shut her eyes at the sheer joy of her suddenly altered situation, her disappointment at the loss of the letter for the moment forgotten.

  When she opened them it was to the thought that never in her wildest imaginings could she believe her dreams would come true. She truly was going to marry the man of her dreams. He’d declared in the most sincere and ardent of terms his love and desire and now, here was the clergyman he’d summoned.

  Reality seemed suspended as the reverend performed the rites, Hetty murmuring her responses, Sir Aubrey speaking with firm conviction as he slipped the ring upon her finger, his eyes kindling with warmth, his smile reassuring her that this was everything he wanted.

  “I’m sure you never imagined you’d dress as a Spanish guitar player for your wedding,” he teased at the conclusion of the rites and once the clergyman had departed.

  “I never imagined I would marry at all,” she admitted. “Araminta is the beauty. She’s a bird of paradise and I’m a little brown peahen. Papa used to say it all the time.”

  “And you decided you were destined to live up to this description?” Sir Aubrey shook his head, his mouth pursed with amusement. “Until you were so afraid for your life you thought giving yourself to me was the only way to preserve it.”

  He was leaning into another embrace when Hetty stayed him with a hand upon his chest.

  “Now it is my turn to redress the balance.”

  She had the means and she should have acted earlier, before Araminta could pass on the letter to Lord Debenham. Hetty was married now and Araminta no longer posed a threat to her happiness. But Hetty could secure even greater happiness for her new husband if she hurried. Sir Aubrey, from his position of greater power, in consequence of her actions, would ensure Lord Debenham was a spent force and unable to harm her family or Jem.

  “I promised I would restore the letter…where it would do least harm and achieve the greatest good.” He must never know that she’d entertained, even for a short while, the intention of giving it to Lord Debenham.

  But if she didn’t hurry, that’s just who would be receiving it.

  “Hetty! Where are you going? Won’t you stay—” He pulled her back to him, his lip curling with suppressed amusement despite her sudden urgency to get away. “For the finale? Now that it’s legal?”

  “Oh, my darling, I promise you the greatest finale,” she replied, reaching up to kiss him quickly on the lips. “You stay right here, make yourself very comfortable and be prepared for my triumphant return.” Running her hands down his thighs, she whispered, “I have a surprise for you, my love, and I do recall hearing you say once that all good things were worth waiting for.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Araminta eyed her prattling cousin with a decided lack of felicity as she sat wedged between the two young women who were ogling all the passing gentlemen with absolutely no shame.

  She was embarrassed to be with girls who reeked of country and lacked address. Worse was wondering where Hetty was. Her sister had dashed off into the shrubbery, claiming nature called and reassuring her she’d return shortly.

  But she hadn’t and there was not a thing Araminta could do. Oh, she knew Lord Debenham was waiting for her in the third supper box behind the orchestra but he’d be waiting for a long time. He was not going to get the letter Araminta had snatched after Hetty had fortuitously dropped her reticule.

  It was tedious having to bear her cousins’ company while she listened to the strains of Mozart drifting into the starry night air but she relieved the boredom by contemplating Hetty’s dismay at discovering her trophy gone.

  No doubt Hetty planned to hand it to Sir Aubrey.

  Despite reassuring herself that Sir Aubrey would rather wed an orangutan than her sister, Araminta simply could not rid herself of that shocking single glance she’d intercepted when Sir Aubrey had looked at her sister. She’d almost describe it as mawkish except that Sir Aubrey was certainly not mawkish.

  Hetty was the ugly duckling of the family and it would be kinder to keep her hopes in check.

  When she saw her sister hurrying toward them from the Druid’s Walk, she leapt up, making her excuses to her cousins in order to waylay Hetty near the fountain.

  Hetty swung ‘round when she was several feet away, startling Araminta with her hostility.

  “What have you done with Sir Aubrey’s letter? You took it from my reticule. I know it was you!”

  When Araminta tried to calm her with a conciliatory hand upon her shoulder, Hetty threw it off, muttering, “You’ve given it to Lord Debenham, haven’t you? You’re a fiend.”

  Poor Hetty, thought Araminta. Clearly she’d returned disappointed from her assignation to hand over the letter to Sir Aubrey who, if she wasn’t mistaken, had hired one of the supper boxes in the darkened walkway from which Hetty had just emerged.

  She tried to be placating. “Dearest, if you’re so upset, perhaps you might try to persuade Lord Debenham to give it to you. I can tell you exactly where to find him.”

  She was amused when her sister actually stamped her foot.

  “You can take me to him and demand the letter back because you had no right to give it to him in the first place.”

  “I’ll do no such thing, however if you’re brave enough to confront Sir Aubrey, you’re brave enough to find Lord Debenham.” She gave Hetty a condescending pat on the shoulder. “I promise I won’t tell.”

  “Hetty, come and sit with us! Where have you been?” Their cousins had them in their sights and were signaling.

  With a disgusted look at Araminta, Hetty turned on her heel, her breath coming in gulping sobs.

  “My goodness but you are upset, my dear,” Araminta soothed. “Perhaps it’s not such a good idea, facing Lord Debenham in such a state. In fact, I can’t imagine what possessed me to suggest something so ruinous.” Araminta felt a stab of doubt. Hetty looked mutinous and if word got back to Mama and Papa that Araminta had induced her to seek out a gentleman alone, there would be the devil to pay.

  In a quick reversal, she reconsidered. She must do whatever necessary to occupy Hetty for the next few minutes. Araminta was about to make her own sacrifice to save the family and she couldn’t risk Hetty threatening a glorious outcome. Calling to her cousins that she would accompany her sister, Araminta took Hetty’s arm and led her toward the darkened lane behind the orchestra.

  “He is waiting in the third supper box,” she said, pointing. “Here, sit down a moment to cool your anger. The cousins are just a short walk away if you change your mind and Cousin Stephen was too involved in the music to even notice us, so you just decide what you want to do.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry about the letter but I did what I thought best.”

  She really was about to do what was best. Best for the entire family, Araminta thought some minutes later as she sauntered briskly along the dimly lit path from which her sister had emerged. This was a mission no lady ought to embark upon but she was confident of her ultimate success.

  It was the only way they’d all find happiness. It would be the answer to her father’s problems. Sir Aubrey’s good name would soon be cleared and in consequence he’d be even richer.

  She couldn’t think of a better catch, for the idea of being allied to Lord Debenham was again losing its luster. He had a cold menace about him. Initially it had intrigued her when she’d felt certain of twisting him ‘round her little finger. Now she was uncertain of her power to enslave him, which meant marriage to him would not be worth the compensations provided by multiple estates and fine clothes. He was too much a wild card. Even Araminta, so confident of her charms, was not entirely confident she could hold him sufficiently in thrall.

  Sir Aubrey was a different matter altogether. He was deeply honorable. The kind of man who would ne
ver dishonor a woman without proper atonement. The trouble was, she wasn’t as confident of his affections as she’d like to be. Certainly, he’d made up to her in a very pretty fashion during the past few entertainments. The roiling passion in the depths of his eyes had thrilled her but the more she reflected on the way he looked at her little sister, the more unsettled she became.

  Well, now she had the letter. All she need do was present it to him and he’d be hers. She might have to work for her reward but that would hardly be a chore.

  The sight of his distinctive silver-topped cane by the door to the supper box was confirmation that her mission was on the way toward being successful.

  Approaching stealthily, she was surprised at the roar of blood to her head and the rapid beating of her heart. She was not used to such sensations and she liked them. She felt exhilarated and alive.

  The dismaying thought intruded that perhaps he wasn’t alone. Her fears were soon put to rest. When she carefully opened the door a lazy, laconic voice drifted through the darkness.

  “Come to me, my darling.”

  Araminta nearly fainted on the spot. He was expecting her?

  Then another, even more shocking thought ripped through her. He was expecting someone else?

  Hetty?

  No, it was not possible.

  A woman of the night?

  It didn’t make sense. Sir Aubrey would never have planned an assignation with her unprepossessing and far less worthy sister.

  The possibility that he had was enough to galvanize the most gently reared beauty into action. Sir Aubrey was not going to offer for Hetty, leaving Araminta, the beautiful, worthy eldest sister, to cool her heels for another season. No, he would not.

  And when Araminta’s work was done with him there would be no way he could!

  Her heart rate had rapidly accelerated and her breathing rasped in her throat. How would she carry this off, knowing the hopes of the entire Partington family rested on her success?

  Faint strains of Mozart hung in the air. The room was in almost complete darkness, lit only by the light from the hanging lamp outside the door.

  Quietly she entered, and it seemed like divine inspiration to snatch an end of the gauze drapery that divided the room in two and drape it over her head and around her body.

  “Hetty? Is that you, my darling? Come to me.”

  Araminta froze, not believing what she was hearing, for amusement and anticipation colored his tone as he started to rise, though Araminta was quick to indicate he should remain where he was. She had a performance to put on.

  Her shock turned to surprise as he seemed to think it a splendid idea—as if her sister were capable of the kind of entertainment Araminta was about to perform.

  Slowly she swayed to the music but then, realizing Sir Aubrey would be far from delighted to discover her real identity, Araminta decided to cut short her overtures. Much more important than courting his admiration was swift action on her behalf to make sure he was in her power.

  “Good Lord, but you are full of surprises.” His voice was a low, needy growl that sent anger pulsing through Araminta. How dare he speak like that, believing she was plain, dull Hetty? The glazed rapture of his expression only added to Araminta’s determination to continue this…clinical seduction, as it now appeared it would have to be.

  To the bitter end, in fact.

  If he really did believe she was Hetty, then she was succeeding in whipping up his desire much too quickly, Araminta thought, as she sashayed toward him. Right now she might appear a mysterious figure full of allure and promise in the dim lamplight but once she was done with him, he’d realized which sister offered him the future he wanted.

  His breathing was labored and the effect of her calculated progress as he lay back upon the cushions was clear, even from a distance. His tight satin breeches bulged with his enormous erection. Had Araminta not been so fueled by spite and anger, she’d be anticipating this as much as he clearly was. Yet he thought she was Hetty…

  All her delicate sensibilities recoiled at the travesty.

  “Oh, my darling, you are torturing me. Come to me now.”

  Shocked, Araminta saw that his hand had gone to the button flap of his breeches. How could he imagine Hetty would ever—?

  Good Lord, she’d never have believed such a thing possible if it weren’t happening before her eyes. Her sister? Plump, undesirable Hetty, who was surely beneath Sir Aubrey’s notice? Every indication now pointed to Hetty having been very free and easy with her affections, while keeping a decidedly low profile. Araminta, on the other hand, would never be so bold without the promise of a ring.

  Or at least the knowledge that her actions would secure her a ring very shortly.

  But desperate times called for desperate measures. This was the only way forward. Her father was clearly about to ruin them all and if she did not contract a good marriage by the end of the season, there was a real chance she was not going to at all.

  If Sir Aubrey was going to marry, then it was going to be a Partington—and certainly not the younger one!

  Holding the gauze more tightly about her with one hand, Araminta trailed the other over her breasts in an overt display of self-admiration before gripping the hem of her skirt and raising it above her knees.

  “My God, woman, but you are a minx. Come here now!”

  His arms were outstretched and she heard the need in his voice. Araminta nearly wept at the injustice but it was the impetus she needed. Launching forward even as she shed her revealing gauze curtain, she landed upon his chest, hitching up her skirts to find him already released from his breeches.

  Her breath left her in a cry more of satisfaction than rapture as she impaled herself upon his pulsing member.

  She was hungry for him—or rather, hungry for vengeance—her passage well lubricated by the anticipation whipped up by anticipation. Clearly Lord Aubrey had also reached the pinnacle of his desire, for no sooner had she plunged herself upon him and begun to writhe in ecstasy than he gave a harsh cry.

  Her satisfaction was short-lived. In fact, it did not go beyond the moan he’d uttered as he’d convulsed inside her. For almost immediately he withdrew and, with a shout she’d almost say was anger, shoved her off his lap and leapt to his feet.

  He was now staring down at her as if she were…well, certainly not a woman he desired.

  She was not prepared for this. She’d expected him to be surprised, but she’d not expected to see his lip twitching with the same disgust mirrored in his cold stare.

  “For the love of God, woman, what have you done?” he rasped, fumbling to button his breeches. “I thought you were—”

  Anger bubbled up inside Araminta as she pushed down her skirts and sat up. “You thought I was…?”

  Ignoring her as he made for the door, he swung around to demand, “Miss Partington, what the devil possessed you? Surely you can’t have known—”

  He seemed unable to complete a sentence, so great was his agitation.

  “You seemed to enjoy it,” she muttered. “You didn’t stop. It’s more than possible I’m carrying your child, Sir Aubrey.”

  Not that she’d had much pleasure from it. A great ache of need still pulsed between her legs but that was nothing compared to the humiliation of being rejected. He should be reaching for her by now. Begging for her forgiveness and promising a wedding ring for having taken her virtue. Well, for seducing her, at any rate. Pushing out her chin, she said proudly, “It’s what you indicated you were after, Sir Aubrey, let’s not tiptoe around the truth.”

  His face was black with anger as he strode toward her and gripped her shoulders. “I had no idea it was you, nor was I in a position to stop after you hurled yourself upon me and…no, I did not indicate that was what I was after!”

  “Yes, you did. Last night at the ball, you made your…desire…quite clear.”

  “A gentleman doesn’t expect to be accosted by a lady in such a manner, no matter how much interest he shows her.”
His pupils were dilated, the words rasping from his throat, and he was looking at her as if she were some hideous great spider.

  “I gave you what you made quite clear you wanted, Sir Aubrey,” she hissed. “I make no apology for that. You’re the one in the wrong for giving me false ideas if in fact that wasn’t what you wanted. But the deed is done, Sir Aubrey.”

  Realizing by the lack of felicity in his expression that she was going too far, she adopted another approach. Forcing down her fury, she said in a quiet, controlled tone, “I’m upset, sir, that you take this attitude. I…I was hoping to give you a very pleasant surprise.”

  “A surprise indeed!” he muttered, drawing his hand across his brow as if he were unutterably weary rather than exulted at having taken the virtue of London’s most desirable debutante. “Where is your sister?”

  That was the last question she needed to hear when she’d been imagining something more along the lines of “Miss Araminta, will you consent to be my…”

  Squaring her shoulders, she said, haughtily, “Gone to give Lord Debenham a certain letter, Sir Aubrey.”

  His sudden stillness was heartening, as was his chilly tone. “What did you say?”

  Araminta tossed her head. “I told you. She is visiting Lord Debenham at this very moment to give him your letter.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Snatching her wrist, he hauled her to her feet. “Take me to your sister,” he demanded, propelling her none too gently before him and closing the door behind them, upon all Araminta’s high hopes.

  * * * * *

  The moment Hetty found herself face-to-face with Lord Debenham, she realized she’d made a grave miscalculation. For a start, she was alone and defenseless.

  And he was clearly in a dangerous mood.

  What had she been thinking?

  She hadn’t been thinking at all. She’d been forced by desperation into finding the one thing she knew Sir Aubrey—she gulped—her new husband deserved above all else.