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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.
“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.”
