Now that it was phrased in such terms, Araminta couldn’t in all truth say that the prospect was anything other than horrific. Her chagrin stemmed from the fact she just hadn’t liked Hetty telling her what to do or suggesting Debenham wasn’t less than perfect. It was true that they’d all managed to put on a decent public show, and appear at the theater together as two supposedly harmonious couples to stop the wagging tongues, but they’d rarely rubbed up against each other in anything nearly as intimate as one of each other’s homes for any length of time.
“I have an idea!” She clapped her hands together, congratulating herself that, yet again, she’d hit upon a cunning plan to solve the problem. “It’s my birthday shortly, and Papa asked only yesterday if I had any special requests. At the time, I said no, because I don’t like to place burdens on other people, as you are aware, Jane. But now I know exactly what will bring us all together so that we can mend the rifts that divide us. A house party! At The Grange. Mama and Papa shan’t mind, as it was always expected I’d be mistress there someday so I could have done whatever I liked. Besides, it’s such a small birthday request.” Yes, a lavish birthday celebration at The Grange would be just the answer. Her eyes moistened with sentiment as she stared out of the window onto the rain-darkened streets. “We used to have such wonderful house parties there.”
“Yer mean like the one where Sir Archie ‘n ‘is good lady were tryin’ to con Mr. Cranborne inter partin’ wiv a few monkeys ova that spider racket wot were rigged?” Jane sniffed as she picked up a shawl that Araminta had just finished trying with her dress but had let slip to the floor. “‘N where Sir Archie’s lady friend fer that evenin’—Lady Julia I believe it were—went boatin’ at midnight wiv poor Mr. Edgar wot yer decided yer wanted ter marry afta ‘e started makin’ eyes at Miss ’Etty. But then their boatin’ trip went wrong ‘n ‘e slipped inter the water ‘n drowned?” She eyed her mistress beadily. “That were the last ‘ouse party at The Grange ‘n I don’t reckon it were such a good one.”
“Then all the more reason to have another one!” Araminta responded brightly. She would not let Jane put a damper on her latest idea, which was rapidly growing into an occasion to rival any of those she’d attended in London. “A splendid house party this time. A house party that gathers together all the rich, handsome, and interesting people that we know. And I propose that we invite Miss Mandelton and Lord Silverton. Oh, and Lord Ludbridge, too.” Excitement was nearly getting the better of her as she returned to her wardrobe to rummage through the lovely gowns she now had the figure to wear again, though, of course she’d have to get her dressmaker to concoct something entirely new and fetching for the occasion. “Then Hetty and Sir Aubrey will have lots of people to worry about other than my supposedly wicked husband, won’t they, Jane?” she tossed over her shoulder.
A great sense of happiness was fast settling upon her. London had been perfectly beastly for weeks now with Debenham always telling her what she could and couldn’t do. Well, he’d not go against her father, and if Lord Partington were hosting her birthday party, Debenham would have no say with regard to the guest list.
For the first time since before William was born, Araminta thought she might begin enjoying herself again.
Chapter 3
Kitty felt a spring in her step to be back in the country for all that she’d considered herself a city girl long before she went to London.
She breathed deeply, enjoying the scent of familiar flowers, the call of birds from the trees, the soft flutter of their wings as they flew about the hedgerows that bordered the path she was now traversing through a small wooded area.
Agreeing to be part of Mr. Lazarus’s traveling performance throughout the provinces was the change she needed. Raising her arms to the clear blue sky, she charged her lungs with fresh air and decided that although she’d never want to live anywhere other than London, right now she was enjoying the slower change of pace.
Of course, if Silverton had still been in residence in town she might have felt differently, but the fact that he was on business at his country estate, and away for nearly four weeks, meant she’d jumped at the chance to play the part of Pandora Mr. Lazarus had offered her during their progress through the villages and towns of Hertfordshire. It had been during this annual foray into the counties the previous year that Kitty had first met the flamboyant director when he’d given her the opportunity that had changed her life. What a green girl she’d been then, but how much she’d gained in freedom, wealth, and happiness. In one sense, she was her own mistress, in that she was free to make her own decisions. After a lifetime of being told what to do, this was addictive and liberating. However, she was also mistress to a man who made her happy from the tips of her toes to the end of her nose as she’d heard the saying go.
What didn’t make her so happy was the fact that her darling Silverton had told her, carefully and with no great delight, that he was to meet his intended bride on his return journey from the north. He would then accompany Miss Mandelton back to London where she’d remain for the few weeks until their wedding.
Kitty knew that Silverton was in an impossible situation. He’d become affianced to Miss Mandelton a short time before Kitty had tumbled into his life needing his help, after they’d already built up a strong, satisfying friendship based on mutual respect and a lot of laughter at the cribbage table in front of the fire in his drawing room.
Even back then, Kitty had known she was not the kind of wife a man like Silverton could marry. Even when she’d nearly married Nash, her own father had declared the match unacceptable because Kitty—his own daughter—was too far beneath Lord Silverton, and he’d declared that society would never accept her.
She plucked a hedgerow leaf and tore at it. Without society’s acceptance, she and any husband brave enough to attempt to challenge the prevailing forces that dictated propriety’s boundaries would be bound to be unhappy. It was far better, therefore, she’d decided, to simply make the most of her position as London’s darling of the stage. While she entertained high society and continued to know her place, they would shower her with tributes. If she tried to become one of them, her happy idyll might well come to an abrupt end. Yes, she’d read various commentaries in the gossip sheets following her close call at becoming Lady Nash, and there had been some harsh feeling about it all. Just as well her parentage was still a well-kept secret. Most people seemed to assume she was a daughter of the underbelly of society, if not the gutter. After all, an actress was not that much farther up the social scale than a prostitute, she thought with a touch of bitterness.
And that’s why she was prepared to accept that she would never enjoy the wedded bliss for which she’d longed her whole life. But she was happy. Silverton was kind and loving, and honorable and noble. He had every attribute she prized in a man, and he adored her. It was the reason Kitty would put up with a less than ideal situation. She’d seen enough unhappy marriages with straying husbands ruling the roost to know she was infinitely better off as mistress to a man who respected her.
She took another deep breath of fresh air to banish the dismals. For the next three nights, Kitty would be performing at a theater ten miles from the village where she’d grown up. Each evening before the show, Mr. Lazarus would give his usual gushing summation on the ‘deucedly decided delight and riotous rambunctiousness’ of the adoration-filled audiences who crammed onto the benches of the often makeshift venues where they performed. It hadn’t all been comfort and splendor.
But she’d enjoyed the experience, though in just a few days their tour would be at an end, and Kitty was looking forward to returning to London and Silverton’s arms. The lovely little home he’d arranged for her some weeks before was now decorated just as she desired, and she looked upon it as a haven of peace and bliss; a solid affirmation of how far she’d come in life and how happy she was to remain right there, with nothing any different.
She had found her happy place.
Whenever Silverton visit
ed, she would simply isolate her mind from the knowledge that he’d be returning to the other woman in his life—the wife she wished more than anything that she could be.
As she reached the lych-gate of the cottage where she and a number of her flamboyant fellow actresses were being housed, she met Mr. Lazarus issuing down the path. He doffed his feathered hat with a twinkle in his eye, extravagant, flamboyant, and not always truthful, she knew; but the fact that he saw to their interests so assiduously, and was essentially a man of decency with a kind heart, meant Kitty was happy to remain working for him. She wasn’t about to look for brighter opportunities since the brightest was being Silverton’s mistress.
One consolation to not being Silverton’s legal wedded wife was that she’d have to give up her connection with the stage.
Didn’t she have the best of both worlds then?
Mr. Lazarus greeted her with a smile. “Kitty, my dear! Prepare to be astonished and transported into raptures of excitement by this most wonderful and supremely grandiose opportunity I have this very morning secured for our little traveling troupe!”
Obligingly, Kitty put her head on one side and prepared to be just that as she smiled back and stroked the feathered trim of her blue pelisse. “Do tell all, Mr. Lazarus, and put me out of my suspense.”
“Why, my dear, I’ve not only gained us admittance to the grandest of all estates! Indeed, a country house inhabited by a veritable collection of the most shining beacons of aristocracy that each and every one of us lowly and modest actors would be unutterably desirous to meet in person. No, not only gained admittance but secured us our moment of glory. Yes! We are to be performing within those hallowed precincts and will be feted and lauded by the highest in the land!”
“And what estate is this?” Kitty tried to inject suitable enthusiasm into her tone, but as her brain whirled with the cataloging of every country house in the area that might answer such a description, she was feeling increasingly ill.
And even while she willed it not to be true, Mr. Lazarus responded with all the fervor that flew in the face of her own horror. “Why, it is none other than The Grange, home of the illustrious Lord and Lady Partington, Kitty, and can you but believe it! We are the esteemed and magnificent performers requested to supply the entertainment for the birthday extravagance to honor London’s most beautiful new bride and recent mother, Lady Debenham!”
Chapter 4
Naturally, Araminta should have known that Hetty had nothing better to gush about than babies. Araminta would even have preferred to have gone on a country ramble with her mother than be confined to the drawing room, listening to her sister wax lyrical about the astonishing accomplishments and virtues of their respective offspring, which honestly felt the closest thing she could imagine to purgatory right now.
However, her mother had insisted on this intimate family gathering to precede the gaiety of the myriad guests inhabiting The Grange, and this was the first occasion since both Hetty and Araminta had given birth that the families were fully united; though apparently, the occasion was purely for the purpose of heaping adoration upon the squalling creatures rather than to celebrate Araminta’s birthday.
She really wasn’t feeling charitable toward William. Squalling was the only thing her son seemed capable of doing, and he’d been busy doing it the entire three hours since the traveling party had left London. Araminta had fully intended taking a separate carriage from William, but when Debenham had chosen to go on horseback, she’d had no choice but to share the one vehicle with Jane, and Mary the nursemaid.
Those three hours of pure torture were a reminder of why Araminta was convinced she was not of a maternal bent. William’s screaming had given her quite the megrim, and all she’d wanted to do was retreat to her old bedchamber for some well-earned rest the moment she’d arrived at her old home.
Instead, Hetty had positively dragged her into the drawing room saying, “No, no, don’t send William away with Mary. I’m sure he’ll stop crying when he’s with his cousin and our baby sister, for, of course, Mama has brought Celia down from the nursery.” When Hetty gazed adoringly up at her husband, Araminta made sure to look away so as not to lock glances with Sir Aubrey. Not long ago she’d have been filled with fury. Not long before that, frustrated longing.
But Araminta was nothing if not pragmatic. How could she be ashamed of what she’d done purely for the good of the family? Yet, even as she tried to brush it off with such a justification, she still felt the cold steel of Sir Aubrey’s occasional, and no doubt accidental, gaze like a rebuke, which immediately set her back up. As if their unconventional coupling had been all her fault. It made her feel quite indignant! Araminta had sacrificed her virtue to save the family fortune, and restore to Sir Aubrey the letter that would otherwise have convicted him—though, of course, when the letter had actually been located, it said the opposite, and that Debenham was the villain, which was why it was important that the letter never enter the public arena. Araminta had been sure she’d burnt it, but apparently the ‘real’ letter had surfaced and Mr. Tunley had it.
Turning her back to Sir Aubrey, she pretended to admire her nephew’s cherubic looks, taking her cue from Hetty while she fumed over the baronet’s inconstancy. How was Araminta to have known Sir Aubrey had married Hetty half an hour before Araminta had decided to take matters into her own hands, straddling the dangerous gentleman and giving him what he’d made clear for weeks was his desire?
He’d said he hadn’t believed it was Araminta dancing her dance of the veils in her Spanish Dancing Girl costume, identical to Hetty’s. That he’d thought she was Hetty! Good lord, how could he not have known the difference between tall, beautiful, slender Araminta and short, dumpy, plain Hetty?
Now, amongst the various family members in the drawing room, Sir Aubrey appeared to studiously ignore Araminta, stepping away the moment she came within a few feet of him, which made Araminta increasingly uncomfortable.
Especially when Hetty picked up her squalling nephew, William, and thrust him at her husband, who was already in possession of their own bundle of joy.
A bundle of joy whose head covering was suddenly revealed to display that most indicting of Sir Aubrey’s family traits—the dark locks, lustrous even at such a young age, streaked with a narrow but discernible band of white—the Banks’ brand, he’d laughingly called it.
“Well, no surprises as to the identity of young Frederick’s father. Every male in Aubrey’s family has the same,” Hetty said coyly, remarking with a frown, “but no family resemblance to his cousin, William. Not at this age, certainly.”
Lady Partington swept forward after passing her own baby Celia to the closest male at hand, who happened to be Cousin Stephen, crooning, “Why, young William must take after the Debenham side of the family for none of us were so swarthy. What a fine pair of lungs. Now that does remind me of Araminta.”
Araminta knew she was being lighthearted. Indeed, her mama was always surprisingly lighthearted these days, as if motherhood were the greatest joy ever conferred upon her, when she’d produced numerous times and must surely have been despairing to find herself breeding again at forty.
Araminta never intended having another child if she could help it. Debenham was a lusty husband, who’d made no secret of his pleasure at returning to Araminta’s bed now that she’d regained her figure after William’s birth. Well, Debenham had his heir, and as Araminta did not intend going through the ghastly process of procreating again, she’d been assiduous in using the Queen Anne’s Lace seeds Jane bought her from the apothecary’s to prevent conception. The only lapse had been the single occasion when Debenham had surprised her in the rotunda overlooking the river at Lady Marks’s riverside entertainment a month before, just after dreadful Mr. Woking had emptied Araminta’s reticule, causing the Queen Anne’s Lace to disappear into the wind.
As Araminta watched the two cousins—William and Frederick—she felt Sir Aubrey’s eyes upon her, sizing her up for any sign of what
only the two of them knew—of the sin he considered they’d committed and for which he reviled her. She hated the uncomfortable churning this caused her inside, so she tossed her head, brushed Debenham’s cheek with her hand and said with syrupy sweetness, “More like my husband’s lusty lungs. Now, shall we put the babies away? I’ve had more than enough of William, who never ceased his infernal racket the entire time we were journeying here.”
Hetty, who seemed ridiculously full of spirits, cozied up to her husband saying brightly, “I propose a walk, and the nursemaids can bring the young ones who need a breath of fresh air, despite it being so chillsome out. What do you think, Aubrey, my love?”
A walk was not what Araminta had in mind, and not with the babies either. However, salvation came in the form of a plume of dust upon the horizon. She shaded her eyes. “Why, I do believe the first guests have arrived,” she murmured, though if she’d been alone she’d have whooped with joy. She’d been with her family less than an hour, and already she was feeling judged and found wanting. She also couldn’t wait to see Lord Ludbridge again. “You carry on. I’m happy to do the greetings.”
To her surprise, Debenham chose to accompany the others on their gentle stroll, though she did notice that was only after her mother specially requested his presence. Earlier, Mama had said she intended to make a special effort to better her acquaintance with her son-in-law, and Araminta had nearly told her not to bother, but when she recognized Teddy’s carriage, she almost sang to the treetops. With the others safely out of the way, she could greet her beloved with the warmth she reserved only for him.
And, oh joy, the timing was perfect for they were safely in the park by the time she discharged this special greeting, out of view of the servants certainly, but with a press of the fingers and a fleeting caress upon his cheek, which had his eyes widening with pleasurable surprise.
Lady Unveiled - The Cuckold's Conspiracy (Daughters of Sin Book 5) Page 3
