Her Gilded Prison (Daughters of Sin Book 1)

by Beverley Oakley

  Then with a sigh, Sybil straightened and forced herself to attend to Humphry’s obvious confusion.

  When she finally met his gaze, it was like looking at a stranger. Who was this man who’d sought her bed two hours earlier? Yes, he was the man who’d fathered her four children. The man she’d dutifully loved for twenty years despite knowing he did not love her. The man she’d loved until she discovered what love really was.

  Unconsciously, she traced her belly with her hand. If she were with child, she’d keep Stephen’s identity secret if it killed her.

  If it were necessary.

  Again, as Humphry’s troubled, confused countenance blurred before her, she had no idea what to expect from him. Understanding? Compassion? Gratitude, even? Or rage. Simple rage.

  She sighed again and touched the cool, smooth sleeve of Humphry’s silk banyan, as if to ground him as he came closer. “Lady Julia and Edgar went to the rotunda. I don’t know what happened, Humphry. I think Edgar must have fallen out of the boat as they were returning.”

  They glanced at Hetty, the center of Stephen and Araminta’s attention as they forced her to drink the brandy. Everyone wanted to know what had happened. Such an extraordinary accident in the middle of the night.

  “You must ask Hetty, Humphry,” she said. “I found her by the edge of the lake, up to her knees as she tried to retrieve Edgar herself.” She lowered her voice. “She must have followed Edgar and Lady Julia there.”

  “And Stephen?”

  Sybil flicked a glance at Stephen, glad he was still clad in evening clothes and that she was the only one dressed for sleep. It made her story as an innocent bystander more plausible. Really, she didn’t care if she had to swing for all their sins, but she must for the meantime concoct a plausible account of all their actions to Humphry.

  Sybil shrugged. “No doubt he couldn’t sleep. There was a lot of excitement this evening.”

  Humphry stared. Distractedly, he rubbed his eyes. “Lady Julia and Edgar?”

  Sybil nodded. “One can only imagine Hetty’s distress. But perhaps you should ask Hetty. She’ll be questioned by the magistrate, no doubt. There’ll have to be an investigation. It’s best if she’s encouraged to tell us everything now.”

  They crowded round to hear her tale. Araminta sat beside her and took her hand, stroking it, pretending sisterly solicitude, Sybil thought uncharitably. Araminta seemed more fascinated than shocked by the means of her erstwhile betrothed’s death.

  “You mean you saw Lady Julia following Edgar across the lawn after he’d pretended to you he was going to bed?” She sounded outraged. “Then what happened?”

  Hetty explained how she had stood at her window, vacillating between quietly retiring for the night or following Edgar and confronting him.

  “I decided I had to tell him how I felt,” she said in a small voice. “Cousin Stephen had said it would be helpful—for both of us.”

  Araminta made a small, strangled noise in her throat before asking, “It did not occur to you that Lady Julia’s presence might prove an impediment?”

  Hetty dabbed at her damp eyes with a handkerchief. “I thought Edgar was heading for the lake because he was miserable about you, Araminta, and that Lady Julia might be thinking she could console him.” She shrugged. “But then I discovered she was there to console him in other ways.”

  “What other ways? What else did you see?” There was a prurient gleam in Araminta’s eye.

  Stephen said hastily, “I don’t think Hetty wants to go into too much detail.”

  “Since she’ll be asked by the magistrate, surely it’s best she recounts it first here?” Araminta objected. “Come, Hetty. You can tell us.”

  On a wail, Hetty replied, “They were in the rotunda when I reached the lake. They were kissing... More.” She shook her head. “It was horrible. I started screaming at them. She looked scornfully at the woman shivering in front of the low fire, rubbing vacantly at her sodden dress with a strip of dry linen the maid had just brought her. “But Lady Julia just laughed at me, then said to Edgar the fun was over and they should return.”

  “So you waited, like an avenging angel, to greet them with the full force of your righteousness, only Edgar toppled into the water when he saw how angry you were.” Araminta seemed impatient for the facts.

  Hetty ignored her. Her eyes and nose were streaming as she stared at her hands. “Edgar pushed the boat from the shore and then leapt into it. It made quite some distance but he was still trying to regain his balance when it was already halfway across. Then he just simply pitched forward. He didn’t even try to save himself. At least, it didn’t look like it. I didn’t see him again after that. Not...not until...”

  Araminta put her arm about her sister’s shoulders. “Edgar was obviously foxed. He’d drunk a great deal and people often simply lose consciousness when they’re bosky.”

  Sybil wondered how she was such an authority on the matter as her elder daughter went on with a sigh. “You did everything you could, from what I can tell,” indicating Hetty’s gown, sodden to the waist. “As did Cousin Stephen.”

  Sybil exchanged glances with him. She was expecting to be quizzed further on her role. “Araminta, please take your sister to her room,” she said. “Summon Mary to help her out of her wet things and into bed. I shall be up shortly.”

  It was a tone that brooked no objection. Araminta had only to look at her mother’s face, and the expressions on the faces of her father and Stephen to know she must obey.

  “Lady Julia must be helped to bed also,” Sybil said in an undertone to the men when Araminta and Hetty had gone. “How do you propose we tackle that?”

  Humphry looked at his shaking, uncomprehending houseguest with disfavor, indecision in his tone as he asked, “Should her husband be told or do we strive for discretion?”

  Sybil looked inquiringly at her husband. “What do you do when your actions are contrary to what you’d wish your nearest and dearest to be privy to, Humphry?”

  Brushing off her comment with a grunt, he leaned over Lady Julia and spoke to her in loud, clear tones. “My wife will have her lady’s maid attend to you, madam. It is perhaps wise to put your unfortunate condition down to an accidental dunking in the fishpond when you missed your footing during a stroll about the garden in the moonlight with Araminta, who wished to confide in you regarding a matter pertaining to her London season.”

  Stephen raised one eyebrow and Sybil marveled with heavy irony, “My goodness, Humphry, one might imagine you were in the habit of concocting Bunbury tales to cover your tracks.” She reached down and helped Lady Julia rise. “I shall return shortly, gentlemen,” she said from the door, one arm about Lady Julia’s waist. “Hopefully Dr. Marsh will be here soon.”

  Lady Julia’s fear was evident as Sybil led her to her room. “If Edgar has drowned the tale will be all over town,” she whimpered. “What will be said of me?”

  Sybil was reassuring. “We want as little scandal as you, Lady Julia. Edgar had drunk a great deal tonight and was clearly not responsible for his actions. This is not the first accident to claim a healthy young man when he’s in his cups.”

  She returned to the others after a quick detour to her own room to change her torn nightgown and tidy herself.

  Stephen and Humphry had their heads together. They looked up at her entrance. “Dr. Marsh is on his way, according to the stable lad, and Stephen will lead him to the lake,” Humphry said. “I have also reminded Stephen that in the event of Edgar’s death, he reverts, once again, to being my heir.” He cleared his throat and directed Sybil an incisive look. “That is, if we have no more sons of our own.”

  Sybil followed Humphry’s gaze, touching her belly as horror ripped through her, but before she could order her thoughts, the sound of Dr. Marsh’s carriage could be heard rolling up the driveway.

  As Humphry strode forward to open the double doors of the drawing room, which opened onto the terrace, Sybil gripped Stephen’s sleeve to detain him.<
br />
  “Dear God, Stephen, what have I done to you?” she gasped, pulling him into the shadows of the heavy curtains that covered the deep window seat as Humphry went onto the terrace speak to the doctor. “You are Humphry’s heir. Yet if you have succeeded in what I begged of you—to plant a seed in my womb—then I have blighted your future.” She was close to tears. “Forever.”

  Stephen put a hand on her shoulders and tilted her chin up with a forefinger. His look was grave. So much smoldered in its depths—regret, adoration...and yes, doubt. But she could see no recrimination.

  “You acted for the good of the family, Sybil...darling.” Lingeringly, he trailed his finger across her collarbone. Closing his eyes on a sigh, he smiled when he looked at her again. “Only time will tell. But you mustn’t blame yourself—whatever happens.”

  They could hear Humphry conversing with the doctor in a low undertone just a few yards away yet Stephen took her in his arms. Although they were part hidden, Henry need only turn and strain his eyes to witness their forbidden embrace.

  Sybil wilted against him, joy cutting through every other emotion as he declared, “If striding out there and announcing to His Lordship that I claim you for my own would bring us happiness, I’d do it.” Passion limned his whisper. Sybil had no doubt he meant every word. He shook his head and the pain in his voice sliced through her as he added, “But an adulterous wife can be cast off by her husband too easily. Lord knows I’d gladly have you live with me—forever—but...” He shrugged and for the first time she saw helpless regret cloud his features. “I have nothing to offer you. No money and, if your husband were vengeful, no prospects.” With an anguished cry, he burst out, “God, Sybil, I’d die before I hurt you.”

  Rapture made her giddy. He was in love with her. Swaying in his arms, she reached her hands up to pull him down for another kiss, murmuring against his lips, “I would choose happiness in a hovel with you, Stephen, any day over a loveless marriage in this gilded prison.” She drew back. Tenderly, she traced the beloved contours of his face, her heart pounding as she whispered, “But you are young with your life ahead of you. Possibly I have already blighted your prospects. If you are no longer to be heir you must at least be allowed to prosper and enjoy what is the right of every young man of courage and integrity: a position of responsibility and importance—and Humphry can see that you are offered that. I will not hold you back.”

  Wonderingly, she traced his mouth, committing his lips to memory. For memories were all she would have, though the knowledge that she was loved filled her with bittersweet joy.

  Loved where she’d never thought possible.

  It was enough. Enough to sustain her through what she must endure in the next...five years? Twenty?

  “You’ll always know where I am.” He winced as if her touch were too much for him to bear, even as he moved in to her. “And if you ever need me, Sybil, you have only to ask. If I am in Timbuktu or the Spice Islands, I will come.”

  The stable lads arrived and Humphry broke off his discussion as he directed them to lead Dr. Marsh to the lake. Stephen’s declarations became more urgent.

  “Sybil, I mean what I say. When I go to London, I want you to know I am only three hours’ hard ride away and that I’d do anything, drop anything, say anything...if you ever need my help. You must believe that.”

  She nodded. She’d never believed anything more. “And Sybil—”

  “Hush, Stephen, Humphry’s coming.”

  He gripped her shoulders tightly and brought his face close. “Always know I love you, Sybil. For always.”

  “Sybil? Stephen?”

  Humphry’s voice intruded, loud and demanding. He was nearly upon them. Stephen drew her farther into the shadows, his arms sliding down her back and behind her head to draw her deeply into his kiss.

  His final kiss.

  Fire tore through her as she cleaved to him, glorying in the sensations only Stephen had ever evoked within her once-parched heart and soul.

  With a shuddering sigh he broke away, then, clenching his fist, he managed to sound almost casual as he replied, “Yes, my lord,” though he still held Sybil tightly. He lowered his head, his whisper the final, flimsy thread she had to cling to. “I don’t believe in hopeless farewells.” Making a fist, he touched it to his heart. “This is where you will live, Sybil.” He made a move to break the contact in order to respond to His Lordship then hesitated, turning to once more grip Sybil’s shoulders. “Did you mean what you said, my love?” His eyes seemed to shred her soul. “About preferring poverty with me?”

  She nodded. “I’ve never been more sincere—” She cut the words short, fear at his youthful impetuosity flooding her with panic. “No, Stephen, you mustn’t.”

  He retained his grip, pulling her with him from behind the curtain so that she blinked, dazed in the light. Exposed...Stephen still gripping her hand.

  Humphry cocked his head. His expression was quizzical. Probably the events of the night had addled his sense of reality. Then, perhaps perceiving the flushed countenance of his reinstated heir and the agitation of his wife, he inquired slowly, his tone now laced with suspicion, “Mustn’t what...my dear?”

  Sybil shook her head. To utter a single word might condemn Stephen when he still had an opportunity to wriggle out of what he’d incautiously begun.

  But Stephen paid no heed to the urgent tug of her hand. Retaining it in a vise-like grip, he straightened his shoulders and there was no trace of uncertainty in his tone when he replied, “Mustn’t tell you, my lord, that I am in love with Lady Partington and that I seek her happiness above all else—yet that can only happen with your approbation.”

  The widening of his eyes and apparent loss of balance was the only indication Lord Partington had even heard. He opened his mouth to speak, transferring his incredulous expression from Stephen’s brave, determined face to Sybil’s no-doubt cowering expression before demanding, “Are you bamboozling me?”

  Stephen cocked his head, bringing Sybil’s hand briefly to his lips before saying, “It is common knowledge, my lord, that you’ve kept a mistress for the duration of your marriage.” He cleared his throat. “I realize that I risk both Lady Partington’s happiness and that of my own by approaching the matter with such boldness, and yet I had hoped to appeal to your generous...and liberal nature by making a clean breast of things. Skullduggery is not my favored course, and so I would ask you now to sanction a union between your wife and myself along the lines of the one you’ve enjoyed with Mrs. Hazlett.”

  Had Stephen really said that? Spoken so transparently of matters which were never discussed between even Sybil and Humphry?

  Sybil glanced fearfully at her husband, whose growing apoplexy in the lengthening silence didn’t augur well. She put her hand on his sleeve and said apologetically, “I know it’s a shock, Humphry, and I did try to warn you when I mentioned I’d taken you at your word after you indicated a preference for handing the estate over to the head stable lad rather than Edgar—”

  “I never did!”

  “You did, Humphry. And you were completely against the idea of siring your own heir, and since you’d taken such a shine to Stephen, I persuaded him to help me do what I thought would ultimately please you, and that would, I hoped, ensure Hetty’s happiness—ensure Edgar was not going to be heir and therefore marry Araminta.” She swallowed. She stared at her feet before casting an imploring look at his face. “Things got rather out of hand after that.”

  Humphry shook his head, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn’t push out the right words. Finally he said, “Are you suggesting an heir might already be in the offing?”

  Sybil glanced at Stephen as she unconsciously contoured her belly, before she raised her eyes to answer her husband. “It’s more than possible, and if so, I am fully sensible of the bitter irony in having thus blighted Stephen’s prospects.”

  Stephen cleared his throat. “I bear Lady Partington no ill will, should that indeed come to pass. My most p
ressing concern, however, is if you will sanction a discreet union between your wife and myself.” His impatience was clearly growing. “Araminta and Hetty will soon remove to London for the season and presumably their mother will accompany them. I’d hoped to trade on your goodwill and secure a position in the Foreign Office, though tonight’s handsome winnings—thanks to your Lordship’s generous machinations—will be sufficient to see me through the next few months, should you reconsider your generous offer in backing me.”

  Humphry seemed suddenly to snap into renewed life. “Are you really asking for my blessing? Asking me to sanction this scandalous...outrageous situation?” His eyes bulged and he had to grip the curtain to steady himself. “You’ve made a cuckold of me...yet you have the cheek to believe I may still offer you my patronage?”

  It was rare Humphry was so moved to anger, but it was a necessary catharsis, Sybil believed, in an all-but intolerable situation for her husband. She put a comforting hand on his arm. “Humphry, Stephen takes a grave risk in bringing this into the open when we could have carried on a clandestine affair and you’d have been none the wiser regarding the two of us and the paternity of the child who might one day inherit.” She strove to sound soothing rather than combative. “You have every legal right to cast me off yet I ask you, what good would that serve? The scandal would be intolerable and if there were no child, or it were a girl, Stephen would still be your heir. For years I’ve begged you to lie with me so I might conceive another son.”

  At his bluster of embarrassed outrage she held up her hand for silence. “It seems that since George’s death you’ve thrown yourself into being Lizzy Hazlett’s husband to the extent you are completely unable to perform your conjugal obligations. Yes, Humphry, conjugal obligations. Believe me, if you choose to follow the path of publicly disgraced, cuckolded husband and discard me and cut Stephen off without a penny, I will disseminate every sordid aspect of our marriage and reasons behind its dissolution to the courts and to the world.” She took a deep breath. “Do you really want that?”