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Mrs. Gargery gasped. “Why, you are a master. It’s superb.”
“Pardon me, but we really must be leaving. Mrs. Gargery can’t possibly be interested in your idle doodling. Larissa, please come now!”
The sharpness in his tone made the kindly Mrs. Gargery widen her eyes in surprise but Lissa obediently returned her sketchpad to her reticule and followed Cosmo out of the garden, saying placatingly, “I showed her a drawing of a rose, Master Cosmo, which I had ready for such a situation.”
When he merely glowered, she produced her sketchpad, turned to the appropriate page to show him in case he didn’t believe her and wanted to cause trouble later.
Cosmo visibly relaxed, though his tone did not lose its edge as he climbed after her into the waiting carriage. “Just make sure you do a good job of your rendition of Lord Debenham, and don’t make me appear a fool, Miss Hazlett. You know what will happen if you do.”
Lissa was surprised as she tilted her head to look at him in the dim interior of the carriage. He’d dented her enjoyment of the afternoon, when she’d thought he’d be pleased.
She hesitated to suggest that gratitude might be in order, but was taken aback when Cosmo muttered, “I rely on you, Miss Hazlett, and I don’t like it. However, if you let me down, I’ll see your reputation shredded.”
Chapter Four
“Really, Araminta, it’s not like you to be so agitated. Who are you waiting for? A lover to signal you from the apple tree?”
Araminta swung back from the window to glare at Hetty, who was relaxing in a chair and looking over the top of the book she had in her lap.
Hetty’s charge was too close to the truth and it irritated Araminta beyond measure that her little sister could so easily read her. And others, according to their mother, who claimed Hetty’s sweet and empathetic nature made her a good gauge of people’s feelings. She’d added that this was something Araminta could learn to her benefit, which had done nothing to endear the apparently remarkable Hetty to her, if that’s what dear Mama had hoped.
Hetty, Araminta had quickly pointed out, was only able to observe things and people unnoticed because she was such a timid little dormouse in both looks and temperament that no one ever noticed her.
The reflection, though, gave Araminta pause. In fact, it was something that was beginning to trouble her more than a little lately, when she stopped to consider it. Hetty seemed less and less the plump pudding she’d been when she’d set her cap at cabbage-headed Edgar, their late, lamented cousin, who’d drowned after rushing off into the night with that designing piece, Lady Julia.
No, it wasn’t so much that Araminta had observed an improvement in her sister’s looks, but that she had observed Hetty seemed to create far more interest from the male contingent than she ought.
Araminta stepped back into the center of the room and stretched languidly. “A lover, Hetty?” She affected a lazy smile though her heart was beating just a littl
e faster than usual. “‘Wouldn’t you like to know? But,” she cocked her head as if in great thought, adding, “didn’t Cousin Stephen say he and Mama would love your company for their afternoon walk?”
“Is it that time already?” Hetty leapt up, obviously forgetting any suggestion Araminta might be engaging in a possible assignation so that, when Araminta glimpsed in the distance from the window, the dark-haired governess in her drab clothing approaching the property, she was in good time to make her way to the fence to greet her.
The girl looked surprised to see her, for the agreement was that Larissa was going to simply leave the parcel in the crook of the apple tree for Araminta to fetch.
But Araminta was eaten up with curiosity to learn what had transpired the previous afternoon. Immediately she began to question the girl. Had Sir Aubrey been there? To whom had Lord Debenham spoken? Had he mentioned Araminta directly to Miss Hazlett? What were Miss Hazlett’s impressions of him?
At this question, the young woman’s eyes narrowed. “He’s a dangerous man. Even my employer says he’s eaten up with vice, and he’s one to talk!”
Araminta smiled. Since she’d decided she was going to marry Sir Aubrey, Lord Debenham’s character didn’t matter, unless he posed a danger to Sir Aubrey’s prospects or reputation. Rumors swirled around Sir Aubrey, she knew, but they’d never been substantiated. No, she was more concerned that His Lordship had remarked upon similarities in looks between Miss Hazlett and herself. For Araminta had to concede that they shared the same glossy dark hair and similar bone structure. Not that Miss Hazlett possessed Araminta’s flawless beauty, to be sure. But now, even more, Araminta wondered how such a resemblance could be utilized to her benefit.
“You were successful in aping your betters, then? What do you know of how those in high society conduct themselves? You’re just a governess.” At first Araminta was annoyed by the young woman’s self-composed response, before realizing that if she did indeed succeed in utilizing Miss Hazlett, such self-confidence was just what was needed.
“Wearing your dress enabled me to imagine I was you.” Miss Hazlett paused, her green eyes—certainly not the striking color of Araminta’s—going cloudy. “Though I don’t know why you were so amenable to the idea when you should despise me. I was certain you’d send me away with a flea in my ear.”
Araminta frowned, not wanting to understand her. “Why should I despise you?”
The girl looked surprised. “Surely you’re not going to deny that you know. Why, we share the same father, of course. I’d thought you’d hate me for it. I do you, after all.”
Araminta’s mouth dropped open. She’d not wanted to hear the girl put it into words. She gasped and stepped back as if Miss Hazlett had physically assaulted her. “How dare you?” she managed. Her tongue felt swollen and her heart beat erratically as she stared at...this baseborn imposter.
“Surely you knew?” The girl looked momentarily abashed before she raised her chin proudly. “Don’t pretend to have a fit of the vapors. You cannot have misunderstood my reasons for contacting you.”
With difficulty, Araminta regulated her breathing. How clearly she remembered the young woman’s visit to The Grange all those months ago, on the pretext of requesting funds for the village school. Her father, she recalled, had acted most strangely as he’d sent Miss Hazlett into the room where the servants were generally required to wait.
So this, indeed, was her father’s bastard standing right before her. Larissa Hazlett was the daughter of Mrs. Hazlett in the village, whose horse Araminta had insisted her father buy for her, despite knowing how much it would upset her mother, for even then, deep down, Araminta had known the truth. Lissa was the girl who’d sat in church with her fellow base-born siblings—her father’s bastards— in a pew behind the first family of the district, Lord Partington’s wife, Lady Sybil, and his daughters, Hetty and Araminta. Even yesterday, when Araminta had spoken to the girl, she’d pretended ignorance. But she had known. Yes, she had known.
Indignation and anger were followed by a great sense of superiority. This poor, stained creature before her could never compete with Araminta, no matter how beautiful she was. They might share a father but Miss Hazlett was a bastard, and a bastard could never rise in the world.
