Page 36 of Sinfully Daring

“What’s all the fuss?” demanded a carrying voice that made everyone in the vicinity turn their heads and gawk. “Minty, do stop that racket, you’re giving me the deuce of a headache.”

The child looked up, tear spangled eyelashes fixing on the imposing figure of the Marquess of Bainbridge, who was carrying his six-month-old son, Aurelius.

“Want to see Aurey!” Araminta demanded, tears forgotten as she put her hands up in the air, demanding to be picked up.

Bainbridge snorted and crouched down instead so the girl could inspect the baby. He glanced up as his wife looked down at them with a smile. “The boy has inherited my looks and charm, by Jove. Six months old and the girls are already all over him,” he said with a smug grin.

His wife shook her head with an expression of fond bemusement.

“And how is Marie-Anne?” Rosamund asked, walking to the wheeled bassinet the nanny was pushing.

“Far easier than her twin brother, naturally,” Arabella said with a laugh. “Boys are so very demanding. I swear, he’s always hungry.”

“Also like his father,” Bainbridge added with a wicked grin, sending Arabella a wink.

Arabella’s lips quirked and then she looked around her with a frown, scanning the crowd. “Oh, where has that dreadful man got to now? Oh!” She put her hand up and waved. “Over here, Alfie, dear! Cooee!”

Rosamund watched with astonishment as the belligerent Duke of Axton, the terror of servants everywhere, grinned at the sight of his daughter-in-law and hurried over. He was a large, intimidating man, with steel grey hair and arctic eyes of the same shade. Leaning on a silver-topped ebony cane, he fixed Arabella with a fierce expression.

“Trying to lose me in the crowd, eh? I know your game, harpy.”

Rosamund started at hearing her friend spoken to so harshly, but Bella merely rolled her eyes at the duke. “Yes, you old goat. That’s why I stood on tiptoes and waved at you, shouting to get your attention like the veriest hoyden.”

“Aha! Trying to turn me up sweet now. I know your tricks,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Yes, yes, of course you do,” Arabella soothed, taking the old man’s arm. “Now where are Freddie and Bertram? Don’t tell me you’ve lost them in the crowd?”

“No, no, that foolish woman has them in hand, I believe, though she will keep dawdling,” he grumbled.

“That’s because you terrify her, you big brute,” Arabella said with a sigh. “I swear, if you run off another governess, I will throttle you with my bare hands.”

“Is he still trying to intimidate everyone he meets? I thought he might have outgrown such nonsense, but he always was an overgrown, spoiled boy.”

This tart pronouncement made the duke stiffen with real irritation this time and everyone turned towards the autocratic voice. Mr Barnaby Godwin—looking very much like he hoped a large hole would materialise for him to leap into—flushed scarlet and muttered “Aunt!” in a horrified tone, as this august lady was responsible for the scathing remark.

“Oh,” the duke said, his grey eyes glittering. “It’s you.”

“In the flesh, Axton,” said Lady Balderston. “And you’re not dead. Remarkable. I felt certain someone would have shot you by now.”

The assembled company were utterly silent, watching the exchange with fascination.

“You know each other?” Arabella asked the duke. He had not taken his eyes from Lady Balderston. The lady returned his cool glare, looking regal and elegant in a gown of bright, fuchsia pink and matching turban with white feathers fastened with a large diamond brooch.

“Of old,” the duke muttered darkly.

A prickling silence ensued.

“Still a scintillating conversationalist, I see,” Lady Balderston remarked with a quirk of one elegant eyebrow.

“Why bother? No one can get a word in edgewise once you start. Tongue enough for two sets of teeth,” Axton retorted, adding, “Did your husband go deaf, by chance?”

“No,” the lady replied serenely. “He had the good sense to listen, which is why I married him.”

The duke harrumphed, glowering. “I was sorry to hear he’d… shuffled off. A shame. He was a decent fellow, though a dreadful aristocrat.” He stabbed at the ground with his stick, still scowling.

A fond expression crossed Lady Balderston’s face, and she smiled wistfully. “He was, wasn’t he? And thank you, Axton, quite a compliment coming from you.”

The duke grunted. “Good, well, enough of that. Go away, you annoy me.”