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“No girl is as unlucky as I am,” she muttered as Jane did up her buttons and a knock on the door proclaimed a visitor.
“Surprise!” called her mother, sailing into the room with a radiant smile and bearing a bundle of swaddling, which of course turned out to be the sister whose name Araminta couldn’t immediately remember.
In Lady Partington’s wake came Cousin Stephen, who was smiling more broadly than usual, for Araminta had certainly thought him a grumpy old thing to have about the place the past few weeks.
He was cooing at the tiny, downy-haired beast whose fat pink face was wreathed with answering smiles as she grasped his finger.
“Watch out, Araminta, she’s going to rival you as a beauty to be remarked upon,” he teased. “Though of course, you’ll be in your dotage with, quite possibly, grandchildren by the time little Celia has her come-out.”
“Don’t vex Araminta like that, Stephen, you know she has no sense of humor when it comes to such matters,” her mother chided him gently.
“Goodness, I have a sense of humor far more in evidence than grumpy old Cousin Stephen’s,” Araminta muttered. “I don’t think I’ve heard him say one nice thing to me this whole season.”
To Araminta’s horrified disgust, her mother leveled a look of mock disapproval upon the young man. “Poor Araminta, she seems quite out of sorts yet she’s looking as pretty as a picture. Indeed you look blooming, Araminta, and that’s the truth.”
Stephen became serious. “I’ve been conscious of the need to ensure we have no further scandals attached to the family’s good name. Hetty’s behavior was scandalous enough, and now I hear whispers circulating about you, Araminta, that trouble me, and I’m sorry for bringing it up now.”
“Whispers?” Araminta sat down quickly on the edge of her bed and fanned herself, offering a bland smile at her mother and Cousin Stephen, who were now both looking quite censorious. “Goodness, what can you mean?”
“You were seen alone with Lord Ludbridge last night, dearest,” her mother said. “I heard it from the dowager Dalrymple, who was most stern at the fact you’d slipped away from Mrs. Monks.” Her mother took a seat beside her and stroked her hand. “You know how careful you must be of your reputation, and that the slightest bad behavior will bring the gossips around your ears. Do be careful, darling.”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I’m marrying Mr. Woking, and if that’s the door knocker I can hear it’s probably him now to ask permission.”
She could have heard a pin drop. Mutinously, she raised her face. “Well, aren’t you going to congratulate me?”
Cousin Stephen didn’t seem to know what to say. Her mother just l
ooked confused. “Mr. Woking. I’ve heard nothing of this gentleman. Well, nothing...complimentary. Why, I thought you favored—”
“Well, it doesn’t matter who I favored, I’m marrying Mr. Woking, who has been in love with me for two seasons and whom I finally have favored with my acceptance.”
Stephen turned to her mother as he reached for the baby. “Mr. Woking is the nephew of Lord Debenham.”
“Goodness...dangerous Lord Debenham?” her mother asked, uncertainly.
“The nephew is a different kettle of fish.” Cousin Stephen began to rock the child, who was starting to grizzle. “Nothing dangerous about him at all,” he added, though not in a tone that suggested this was a good thing. He looked suspiciously at Araminta. “Why are you marrying him?”
Araminta took a walk to the window. “Because it’s nearly the end of my second season and I have to marry someone,” she said breezily. “He’s in line to inherit extensive landholdings, he’s pleasant enough, and he’ll be a good husband.”
“You mean easy to manage,” Cousin Stephen said.
Araminta bristled at his tone as she turned. “I have quite lost my heart to the gentleman,” she said as a dreadful pang regarding lost Lord Ludbridge threatened to undo her. “I am going to marry him, and now you’re going to come downstairs and give Mr. Woking your blessing.”
“Don’t you speak to your cousin like that,” her mother admonished her. “I own I am just as astonished to hear this announcement. It’s not like you to settle for...well, second best.”
“Second best?” Araminta took a few angry steps into the center of the room and raised her chin. “I will never settle for second best and I will never be second best. This suits me in every way, and I will not hear another word to dissuade me.”
She turned back toward the stairs and put her hand to her belly. Were those flutterings of fear or something else? No, Jane had said it took at least four months before any movement could be felt and she was only a little over one.
In the nick of time, she’d managed to find a father for her baby, even if she would forever pine for the one who’d got away.
And she wasn’t referring to Sir Aubrey.
***
The entire bon ton, it appeared, had turned up to celebrate the impending nuptials of Miss Susana Hoskings and Mr. Edmund Dunstable at the lavishly decorated home of the bride-to-be. Swathes of red and gold silk adorned the lintels, enormous vases of luxurious blooms perfumed the air and the jewels of the richly-garbed crowd sparkled beneath the chandeliers.
Yet the uninvited might have been excused for thinking it a celebration in honor of Miss Araminta Partington and Mr. Roderick Woking.
