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That would mean Sir Aubrey was free for Hetty. It was not a liberating thought. She was the sister to whom he’d offered an arrangement he was free to break at any time. Not the respectable chains of matrimony.
Their country cousins were in their element. Squealing with delight at the lavish spectacle of so many fabulously garbed people, the two girls, dressed as shepherdesses, hurried their cassock-garbed brother into the melee, leaving Hetty to trail behind Araminta, who sashayed forth on Cousin Stephen’s arm.
The crowd was thick and it wasn’t until she was conscious of so many actually pressing in on her that Hetty realized Sir Aubrey was walking close beside her.
His smile made her insides turn to jelly but she stuck out her chin and pretended she didn’t see him. The sudden spectacular explosion of fireworks caused a general shout of excitement and briefly Hetty found her hand encased in Sir Aubrey’s large, comforting one.
Not knowing how it had happened and aware of her proximity to the rest of her family, she snatched it away as she tried to make herself immune to his charm.
“I’ve missed you, Hetty.”
Her mouth dropped open. He actually sounded sincere, but then she realized he needed to ensure she remained kindly disposed toward him and she forced hardness into her tone. “I am not the one you’re interested in, so pray don’t trouble me, sir. Araminta is over there.”
She pointed. Her sister, in profile, looked utterly irresistible, her full lips parted in a smile of genuine delight, her eyes shining.
“Her beauty is but skin deep. You are the engaging one,” he murmured.
She stared, trying not to allow her impulses to override good sense. “I do not have the letter, Sir Aubrey, so you are wasting your time trying to charm me into giving it to you.”
He sent her a level look, in which she discerned disappointment. “Jane did not induce Jem to part with it after all? Or more likely, she has given it to your sister.” He sighed. “As a gambling man, I suspect Miss Partington has greater powers of persuasion—no doubt backed up by threats.” He arched an eyebrow. “Despite my attempts to charm Miss Araminta, I also suspect she has weighed up her options and has arrived at the conclusion that giving the letter to Lord Debenham will provide her with more benefits.”
Hetty tried to swallow down her discomfort. “Perhaps it will,” she said, staring straight ahead. “Particularly if she wishes to marry him. You’ll have to try harder exerting your charm upon her, Sir Aubrey.”
His voice was now closer, warm with promise as it tickled her ear, charging her body with sensation. “You do not seem to relish that idea, Miss Henrietta.”
She shrugged. “I have no thoughts on the matter either way.”
Another firework sent a ripple through the crowd. Suddenly Hetty was pressed fully against Sir Aubrey’s side. She felt lightheaded and completely thrown when he gripped her arm as if to steady her, but immediately he withdrew and disappointment churned in her breast. The others just up ahead had not yet noticed them.
“Are you angry that I’ve been making up to your sister?”
“It appears you need little encouragement to press your interest.” Hetty twisted to glare at him. “The moment something more…enticing comes along, you show your true colors. I abhor inconstancy.”
“Having experienced it with such painful results, I can assure you I feel the same way.” His candid expression spoke so much to what was in Hetty’s heart that her mouth dropped open—and in that instant she knew inherent honor would prevail and she could never withhold the truth.
How could she for one moment have considered allowing the letter into the possession of the man who least deserved it? Regardless of the consequences, like her mother said, the truth was the only basis on which to judge anything. And that letter belonged to Sir Aubrey.
“Hetty, please forgive me for the distance I’ve allowed to keep us apart.” His voice was suddenly low and urgent. “I know you’re hurt and angry—”
“Come, Hetty, let us listen to the orchestra.” Araminta turned, a look of prurient interest sweeping across her face as she registered Sir Aubrey. Then Cousin Seb claimed her attention, tapping her shoulder and pointing to the sky.
With a quick squeeze of Hetty’s hand, Sir Aubrey whispered, “I’ve secured a supper box. Druid’s Walk. The same as last time. Hetty, I beg you, find a way to come to me.”
By the time Araminta had reached them, Sir Aubrey was nowhere to be seen.
“Mozart or some refreshment?” Cousin Stephen quizzed the girls. “I suggest those who are for the former should take their seats here while the rest of us find something for our parched throats.”
The three country cousins, plump and perspiring, were only too glad to slide into a seat while Hetty and Araminta elected to follow Stephen through the pressing crowd. They had only gone a couple yards before Araminta suddenly declared, “Cousin Stephen, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll stay with the others.”
Before he could reply, the crowd had swallowed her up. “Araminta!” Stephen called. “Wait!”
“I’ll go with her,” Hetty reassured him. “You continue, Cousin Stephen. I can see Mary and Amelia waving to us. Don’t worry.”
Already the jostling crowd was pushing him away from her as Hetty, smaller and defter, was able to navigate her way against the melee.
Freedom, she thought with relief, only to find herself pinioned against a plaster bust by a large Corinthian, clearly in his cups, who barged past, causing her to drop her reticule. She had to wait for a straggling crowd to pass before she could reach for it but Araminta got there first. Her sister held it out to her, her expression full of concern as she inquired if Hetty were hurt.
Araminta hooked her arm in Hetty’s. “Hetty dearest, I wanted to catch you alone,” she said as they were steered by the crowd toward the orchestra pit. “I know you’re upset that Sir Aubrey prefers me. He’s been drawn to me from the first moment we met. I recognize that look in so many men’s eyes.”
