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“Mama, what do you think about Stephen?” Araminta clearly considered her mother’s desire to talk in the morning of no account.
“What do I think of him?” It was all Sybil could do just to repeat the sentence. She didn’t know if she could possibly answer it in such a situation.
“Yes, what do you really think about him? Do you think he’s handsome?”
“Yes, he’s very handsome, Araminta, but—”
“And do you think he’d make a good husband?”
Sybil swallowed. “I think he’s a very kind man. I didn’t think that at first. I thought he was young and callow and very much like so many other young blades who like to sow their wild oats and behave badly.”
“So you don’t think he’s the kind of young man to sow his wild oats and behave badly? I think I know what you mean.”
Sow his wild oats? Isn’t that what he was doing right now? At Sybil’s behest? Right here in Sybil’s bedchamber? Oh Lord, she had to get Araminta out of here.
“I think Stephen understands matters more than you think, Araminta. He knows you won’t—can’t—marry him now that Edgar has returned.”
“Do you think he will forgive me?” Araminta sniffed. “After all, I’ve broken his heart, Mama. He barely caught my eye this afternoon and I was all but begging him to understand that we must be forever rent asunder by the tragedy of this altered situation.”
“The tragedy being that Edgar
survived that bullet after all.” Sybil’s tone was dry. She was fast losing patience.
Of course, Araminta had never understood irony. Now she said, dolefully, “I daresay Edgar’s the only one who’s really pleased about the situation but the rest of us must make the best of it. I tried to explain that to Hetty but she refused to speak to me. She’s being awfully churlish. Please will you talk to her, Mama, and tell her not to be so selfish?”
A muffled, choking noise emanated from beneath the covers. Araminta looked up, her brow wrinkled, and Sybil coughed violently. “It’s late, Araminta, and I was in a deep sleep. We can take a stroll in the morning and talk about it then, if you like.”
Araminta rose with obvious reluctance. “I’ve promised to meet Edgar for a walk around the park in the morning.” She narrowed her eyes at her mother. “It looks like you’ve had a nightmare, Mama. Your eyes are quite wild and your face is all flushed. You really look quite gruesome. Shall I wake Mary and have her make you up a cordial?”
“No, Araminta!”
Araminta shrugged. “Just as well, I daresay. Mary gets quite crotchety when she’s disturbed in the middle of the night.” She picked up her candlestick and moved to the door. “Good night, Mama,” she said.
“Good night, Araminta.”
The moment the door closed behind her, Stephen’s head emerged. Sybil put her hands to her flaming cheeks. So she looked gruesome? And poor Stephen had been stuck under the covers in close quarters with her nether regions for nigh on five minutes. He’d not be able to get away fast enough.
“Oh Lord, Sybil, she’s a minx sent to try you.” He drew in a deep lungful of air, gasping between laughter. “And this has only confirmed what a lucky escape I’ve had.” He collapsed on his back beside Sybil and rested his hand companionably on her stomach. “You handled that consummately.” He rolled over onto his side. “And now that I’m quite confident she won’t return, I think it’s time to proceed. Where were we?”
Sybil hadn’t thought she could possibly return to the intimacy that preceded Araminta’s visit. She’d not thought Stephen would have the stomach for it either. Didn’t it reinforce what pure folly it was?
Stephen, however, seemed to regard the disturbance as hilarious and even more so when Sybil began to rise, feeling hot and flushed and increasingly distressed. At first he didn’t notice but as she reached for her shawl, he leapt after her and grasped her by the shoulders.
The shawl slithered to the floor. Her heart followed. Araminta’s criticism had cut deep.
“What’s wrong?” He wasn’t laughing now. He really didn’t know and yet he really wanted to know.
She glanced away from his hard, young body, gleaming and desirable in the candlelight. He was unaware of his magnificence.
“I hardly imagine you’d want to continue this farce with a gruesome-looking old hag like myself with wild eyes and flushed cheeks. You don’t strike me as that charitable, Stephen.”
“Good Lord, that little piece knows where to strike, doesn’t she? You mean you really believed her?”
I’m not going to snivel, thought Sybil, clenching her fists and tensing as he wrapped his arms about her and held her tight.
After a moment he put her away from him, tipping up her chin with his forefinger so that he could observe her better. Slowly he traced the outline of her lips. Sensation roared through her and she closed her eyes.
“That’s better,” he murmured, scooping her up once more and depositing her on the bed. “You’re beautiful and I intend to make sure you know it before tonight is over. Now, make room for me. Ah, that’s right.”
