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  In part Araminta’s taunts had motivated her to show her sister that she would prevail.

  “You are asking me for the letter?”

  How louche he looked, the smell of arrack upon his breath, the empty bottle lying in a corner.

  Unfortunately Hetty had arrived in such haste, with heaving chest and eyes blazing, she’d noticed too late his disreputable state. He’d merely raised his glass to her in a mock toast before tossing back the liquor, his own eyes scorching as they’d raked her from head to toe.

  “Without your sister beside you, you’re not too hard to look at, little one. Come closer,” he’d said.

  But when Hetty had responded acidly that she’d rather approach a cobra, he’d turned nasty.

  Now through narrowed eyes he replied, “I think your sister is the only person who can tell you where that letter is.” He got to his feet, his expression filled with such menace that for a moment Hetty thought she’d faint clean away.

  Instead, she calculated the distance between her back and the door but he was too quick. Seizing her wrist, he jerked her toward him and, gripping her chin, brought his face close to hers. So close she thought he was going to…bite her. For there was no tenderness in his expression as he said between lips pulled tight, “How might we induce that sister of yours to hand over what she clearly intends to profit by? You, my little one? Her baby sister? Do you think my threats against her precious sister will be sufficient?” He gave a short laugh, his eyes boring into hers, his lip curled in a sneer. “No, I didn’t think so either.”

  She squirmed in disgust at the swell of his erection against her belly, recoiling from his breath moist against her ear as he ran his hands all over her. Terror bubbled up inside her but she was unable to force it out in a scream. It was as if every life-preserving instinct had been paralyzed.

  “Perhaps the good name of the family is something she’d value more.”

  “Please don’t!” Hetty whimpered, twisting in his cruel embrace as he buried his face between her breasts and his hands roamed freely.

  “The disappointment is that you’re already spoiled goods, aren’t you?” he glared at her while she struggled ineffectually. “If Sir Aubrey hadn’t already defiled you, he might be called upon to object.” His ragged pants were coming faster now as his grasping fingers pinched her nipples painfully and his mouth latched on to her ear.

  Strength surged through her. “Get away from me!” she shrieked, louder now, hearing the tear of fabric and trying not to cry.

  “You’re more adventurous than I gave you credit for, Miss Henrietta. Comelier and more desirable now I have you up close.” He licked his lips as he gripped her thighs. “I think you must be a fiery morsel in bed else Sir Aubrey would not have spared you the attention he did.”

  “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.

  “The marriage is not yet registered!”

  Hetty smiled at Araminta, who was clearly clutching at straws as she went on, shrilly, “You can burn the special license and there’s still time to stop the clergyman before he puts it in the register.”

  Sir Aubrey cocked his head. “Why would I want to do that? I have the wife I want.”

  “But your reputation, Sir Aubrey…you do not have that, and I can return it to you by giving you this letter.”

  “Your demands are too great, Miss Partington. I shall leave you here now with Lord Debenham. You are in good company.” He stroked Hetty’s cheek then turned back to Araminta. “If we’re worried about reputations, Miss Partington, I’d suggest yours is in the greatest danger, so perhaps it’s best if you followed us and we’ll return you to your cousins.”

  “No, Sir Aubrey! Too much is at stake! I know too much and you’d do well to do as I say!”

  Hetty had never seen Araminta so wild. Her desperation was like a soothing balm for all the years of slights and insults Hetty had suffered at her sister’s hands.

  “Come back with us, Araminta,” she said soothingly. “We’ll look after you. I hate to see you so upset.”

  “What about possible repercussions?” Araminta raged. “Sir Aubrey, think of that!”

  Hetty glanced up at her husband and saw only pity in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Araminta—but you should have thought of that.”

  “You’ll get over this, Araminta,” Hetty said, extending her hand to her sister, who jerked backward and touched the tip of the letter to the flame. She noticed that Sir Aubrey didn’t even flinch.

  Araminta’s eyes were thunderous while Lord Debenham looked on, watching the proceedings with what seemed great satisfaction.

  Sir Aubrey took a couple of steps toward the door and, hand in his, Hetty followed. Turning to look over her shoulder, she strove for her most consoling tone. “If you don’t find a husband in your second season, Araminta, then I truly believe you will in your third. All is not yet lost.” She smiled sympathetically. “You know that I have always done as you’ve wished throughout the years, so the least I can do is offer you this reassurance.”

  Araminta glared at her and Hetty smiled up at her new husband, the warmth of his expression filling her with confidence before she turned back to her sister. “Sir Aubrey promises to be the most indulgent of husbands, for he has yet to refuse me anything.” She touched his cheek. “I’m sure I can say with confidence, Araminta dearest, that I shall be available to chaperone you whenever needed.”

  The End

  About Beverley Oakley

  Beverley Oakley wrote her first romance when she was seventeen. However, drowning the heroine on the last page (550!) was, she discovered, not in the spirit of the genre so her romance-writing career ground to a halt and she became a journalist.

  After throwing in her secure job on South Australia’s metropolitan The Advertiser to manage a luxury safari lodge in the Okavango Delta in Botswana, Beverley discovered a new world of romance and adventure in a thatched cottage in the middle of a mopane forest with a handsome Norwegian bush pilot she met around a camp fire.

  Eighteen years later, after exploring the world in the back of Cessna 404s and CASA 212s as an airborne geophysical survey operator during low-level sorties over the French Guyanese jungle and Greenland’s ice cap, Beverley is back in Australia living a more conventional life with her husband and two daughters in a pretty country town an hour north of Melbourne.

  She writes traditional Regency romance as Beverley Eikli and sensual and erotic historical romance as Beverley Oakley.

  Beverley welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

  Tell Us What You Think

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  Also by Beverley Oakley

  Her Gilded Prison

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Dangerous Gentlemen

  ISBN 9781419947674

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Dangerous Gentlemen Copyright © 2014 Beverley Oakley

  Edited by Kelli Collins

  Cover design by Valerie Tibbs

  Cover photography by LilKar/shutterstock.com, razzledazzle.com

  Electronic book publication February 2014

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