AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Here, give her the bottle.”
Araminta closed her eyes as she tried to breathe through the pain. Was it coming now? Surely not. No, she’d had this cramping before. And Debenham wasn’t even coming to her assistance. Instead, that blonde creature who thought she was London’s gift to the stage was hurrying forward with both the bottle and the offer of a shoulder.
“I’m perfectly all ri—” She went to push the girl away, but instead found herself gripping her shoulder simply so she wouldn’t slither to the ground in a writhing heap. No, surely the baby wasn’t coming now.
“I’ll take you back to your room.”
The woman’s voice was soothing. Debenham clearly wasn’t going to trouble himself. Araminta could hear him talking loudly to the other men. Wordlessly, resting heavily on the actress’s shoulder, she allowed herself to be helped from the room. She wished she’d decided to go back to The Grange two months ago. That would have been sensible, but at the time, Debenham was still enjoying making the most of his conjugal rights, and she was supposedly little more than four months gone, then.
“Down this corridor?”
Araminta nodded, and the young woman supported her back to her bedchamber.
“I’ll help you into bed. Take your time. My mother was brought to bed only a few months ago. She wasn’t as big, though. We have met, you know. At the Tower.”
“I remember. Miss La Bijou.” She wasn’t going to humor her. “Lord Silverton’s mistress.”
“His...friend, actually. I’m an actress.”
“I know.” Araminta accepted the girl’s help to settle her. She felt like a flounder, a great, ungainly fish that couldn’t move anywhere but on its back. “So you consider yourself the toast of the town, do you? Move the pillow this way, will you?” She sighed as she closed her eyes. “That’s better. Well, a great deal has happened since that day at the Tower,” she murmured, raising herself a little on her elbows. “I believe you’d only just arrived in London.”
Miss Bijou nodded and Araminta, who had been about to send her away, thought she saw a tear glisten in the corner of her eye. Good! If the girl was miserable, it would be some diversion to find out why, considering no one could be more miserable than Araminta. Lord knew, she needed something to take her mind off her troubles.
“So much attention, yet not enough of the right kind?” Yes, apparently a perspicacious question. Araminta had known that would strike home for anyone with aspirations toward success. Hadn’t she had her own dreams of wild success? They certainly hadn’t included being vast, ungainly, no longer feted and admired by the general male population, and unappreciated by her husband. Lord, how she despised him, but she was bound to him for life. Her only avenue for success was completely dependent upon Debenham’s ability not to become embroiled in some grubby scandal that would drag them both down. As soon as this wretched baby was born, she could concentrate on finding her own pleasure through different diversions.
Excitement. That’s what she craved.
In a perspicacious flash, it occurred to her that this demimondaine, creature of the sordid underbelly of life with whom she should not be consorting, might indeed be the very one to provide a conduit to another more exciting world.
“I suppose you have lots of admirers.” She peered at Miss La Bijou, then waved her to back into her seat as the girl obviously prepared to leave.
“A few.”
“Well, tell me about them. Do they send you flowers?”
“I receive about half a dozen bouquets at the end of each show. And notes and letters.”
Araminta tried not to let the admission make her feel any worse. “So you could have any lover you choose, by the sounds of it.” She smiled to herself at the girl’s gasp. So coy. Covertly, she studied her in the dim light of the single candle. She was lovely, she’d have to grant her that, if one liked pale, insipid beauties who pretended they were so innocent, when they were the worst of all with their pretended lack of guile to disguise the fact they were plotting all the while. Araminta had once been regarded as London’s most beautiful debutante, but it had been a few months since she’d received any accolades worth mentioning. She was bored and disgruntled, and talking to this creature was mildly amusing. She therefore decided she’d need to change tack when Miss La Bijou took offense to her words and stood up decisively.
“No, you’re lovely, and I’m jealous. I want to know more,” Araminta said before she could think of something more artful to say.
“Jealous? But you’re married to...”
“A knave, though if that ever gets back to him, I’ll have your hair shorn off because I’ll know it was you.” Araminta laughed to show she’d meant it as a little joke. “No, the fact is, I once regularly received notes and flowers, too. I was going to be married, in fact, to the man of my dreams—Lord Tunbridge—before Debenham forcefully compromised me and ensured I had no choice but to marry him.”
The girl’s gasp of shock jerked Araminta back to the present. She hadn’t meant to be so forthcoming. A combination of brandy and boredom had made her lips a little loose. Still, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Miss La Bijou really did look a gullible little goose, for she’d taken Araminta’s hand and was stroking it in a most sympathetic manner as she’d reseated herself.
“I had no idea. And of course, no one can ever know. The two of you are bound in marriage. Forever.”
Araminta nodded. “A prisoner. What opportunities for love will I ever have now?” To her surprise, she gave a little sob, which was actually quite real, then slanted her gaze across at the girl’s large-eyed dismay. In those dark, dismal hours near midnight, a tiny sliver of hope had presented itself. Perhaps Miss La Bijou really could help Araminta achieve what she so desired. Desires that were so simple, really, and no more than any woman aspired to...to bask in the embrace of the man she loved, while not jeopardizing her place in society.
Ever since their encounter at the theater, she’d been dreaming about darling Teddy, thrilling at her memory of the horror in his eyes when she’d told him of the responsibility he bore in her terrible plight.
Dreaming of how pleasant it would be to be adored and revered by a man over whom she exercised complete power. Teddy had been so angry with her when he’d first confronted her the other night in Debenham’s box, but that was only an indication of how much he loved her. Once he’d heard the true story from Araminta’s lips, he’d quickly changed his tune.
She returned the pressure of Miss La Bijou’s hand. “Have you ever met Lord Tunbridge?” she asked.
Chapter Nine
