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Obligingly, Kitty put her head on one side and prepared to be just that as she smiled back and stroked the feathered trim of her blue pelisse. “Do tell all, Mr. Lazarus, and put me out of my suspense.”
“Why, my dear, I’ve not only gained us admittance to the grandest of all estates! Indeed, a country house inhabited by a veritable collection of the most shining beacons of aristocracy that each and every one of us lowly and modest actors would be unutterably desirous to meet in person. No, not only gained admittance but secured us our moment of glory. Yes! We are to be performing within those hallowed precincts and will be feted and lauded by the highest in the land!”
“And what estate is this?” Kitty tried to inject suitable enthusiasm into her tone, but as her brain whirled with the cataloging of every country house in the area that might answer such a description, she was feeling increasingly ill.
And even while she willed it not to be true, Mr. Lazarus responded with all the fervor that flew in the face of her own horror. “Why, it is none other than The Grange, home of the illustrious Lord and Lady Partington, Kitty, and can you but believe it! We are the esteemed and magnificent performers requested to supply the entertainment for the birthday extravagance to honor London’s most beautiful new bride and recent mother, Lady Debenham!”
Chapter 4
Naturally, Araminta should have known that Hetty had nothing better to gush about than babies. Araminta would even have preferred to have gone on a country ramble with her mother than be confined to the drawing room, listening to her sister wax lyrical about the astonishing accomplishments and virtues of their respective offspring, which honestly felt the closest thing she could imagine to purgatory right now.
However, her mother had insisted on this intimate family gathering to precede the gaiety of the myriad guests inhabiting The Grange, and this was the first occasion since both Hetty and Araminta had given birth that the families were fully united; though apparently, the occasion was purely for the purpose of heaping adoration upon the squalling creatures rather than to celebrate Araminta’s birthday.
She really wasn’t feeling charitable toward William. Squalling was the only thing her son seemed capable of doing, and he’d been busy doing it the entire three hours since the traveling party had left London. Araminta had fully intended taking a separate carriage from William, but when Debenham had chosen to go on horseback, she’d had no choice but to share the one vehicle with Jane, and Mary the nursemaid.
Those three hours of pure torture were a reminder of why Araminta was convinced she was not of a maternal bent. William’s screaming had given her quite the megrim, and all she’d wanted to do was retreat to her old bedchamber for some well-earned rest the moment she’d arrived at her old home.
Instead, Hetty had positively dragged her into the drawing room saying, “No, no, don’t send William away with Mary. I’m sure he’ll stop crying when he’s with his cousin and our baby sister, for, of course, Mama has brought Celia down from the nursery.” When Hetty gazed adoringly up at her husband, Araminta made sure to look away so as not to lock glances with Sir Aubrey. Not long ago she’d have been filled with fury. Not long before that, frustrated longing.
But Araminta was nothing if not pragmatic. How could she be ashamed of what she’d done purely for the good of the family? Yet, even as she tried to brush it off with such a justification, she still felt the cold steel of Sir Aubrey’s occasional, and no doubt accidental, gaze like a rebuke, which immediately set her back up. As if their unconventional coupling had been all her fault. It made her feel quite indignant! Araminta had sacrificed her virtue to save the family fortune, and restore to Sir Aubrey the letter that would otherwise have convicted him—though, of course, when the letter had actually been located, it said the opposite, and that Debenham was the villain, which was why it was important that the letter never enter the public arena. Araminta had been sure she’d burnt it, but apparently the ‘real’ letter had surfaced and Mr. Tunley had it.
Turning her back to Sir Aubrey, she pretended to admire her nephew’s cherubic looks, taking her cue from Hetty while she fumed over the baronet’s inconstancy. How was Araminta to have known Sir Aubrey had married Hetty half an hour before Araminta had decided to take matters into her own hands, straddling the dangerous gentleman and giving him what he’d made clear for weeks was his desire?
He’d said he hadn’t believed it was Araminta dancing her dance of the veils in her Spanish Dancing Girl costume, identical to Hetty’s. That he’d thought she was Hetty! Good lord, how could he not have known the difference between tall, beautiful, slender Araminta and short, dumpy, plain Hetty?
Now, amongst the various family members in the drawing room, Sir Aubrey appeared to studiously ignore Araminta, stepping away the moment she came within a few feet of him, which made Araminta increasingly uncomfortable.
Especially when Hetty picked up her squalling nephew, William, and thrust him at her husband, who was already in possession of their own bundle of joy.
A bundle of joy whose head covering was suddenly revealed to display that most indicting of Sir Aubrey’s family traits—the dark locks, lustrous even at such a young age, streaked with a narrow but discernible band of white—the Banks’ brand, he’d laughingly called it.
“Well, no surprises as to the identity of young Frederick’s father. Every male in Aubrey’s family has the same,” Hetty said coyly, remarking with a frown, “but no family resemblance to his cousin, William. Not at this age, certainly.”
Lady Partington swept forward after passing her own baby Celia to the closest male at hand, who happened to be Cousin Stephen, crooning, “Why, young William must take after the Debenham side of the family for none of us were so swarthy. What a fine pair of lungs. Now that does remind me of Araminta.”
Araminta knew she was being lighthearted. Indeed, her mama was always surprisingly lighthearted these days, as if motherhood were the greatest joy ever conferred upon her, when she’d produced numerous times and must surely have been despairing to find herself breeding again at forty.
Araminta never intended having another child if she could help it. Debenham was a lusty husband, who’d made no secret of his pleasure at returning to Araminta’s bed now that she’d regained her figure after William’s birth. Well, Debenham had his heir, and as Araminta did not intend going through the ghastly process of procreating again, she’d been assiduous in using the Queen Anne’s Lace seeds Jane bought her from the apothecary’s to prevent conception. The only lapse had been the single occasion when Debenham had surprised her in the rotunda overlooking the river at Lady Marks’s riverside entertainment a month before, just after dreadful Mr. Woking had emptied Araminta’s reticule, causing the Queen Anne’s Lace to disappear into the wind.
As Araminta watched the two cousins—William and Frederick—she felt Sir Aubrey’s eyes upon her, sizing her up for any sign of what
only the two of them knew—of the sin he considered they’d committed and for which he reviled her. She hated the uncomfortable churning this caused her inside, so she tossed her head, brushed Debenham’s cheek with her hand and said with syrupy sweetness, “More like my husband’s lusty lungs. Now, shall we put the babies away? I’ve had more than enough of William, who never ceased his infernal racket the entire time we were journeying here.”
Hetty, who seemed ridiculously full of spirits, cozied up to her husband saying brightly, “I propose a walk, and the nursemaids can bring the young ones who need a breath of fresh air, despite it being so chillsome out. What do you think, Aubrey, my love?”
A walk was not what Araminta had in mind, and not with the babies either. However, salvation came in the form of a plume of dust upon the horizon. She shaded her eyes. “Why, I do believe the first guests have arrived,” she murmured, though if she’d been alone she’d have whooped with joy. She’d been with her family less than an hour, and already she was feeling judged and found wanting. She also couldn’t wait to see Lord Ludbridge again. “You carry on. I’m happy to do the greetings.”
To her surprise, Debenham chose to accompany the others on their gentle stroll, though she did notice that was only after her mother specially requested his presence. Earlier, Mama had said she intended to make a special effort to better her acquaintance with her son-in-law, and Araminta had nearly told her not to bother, but when she recognized Teddy’s carriage, she almost sang to the treetops. With the others safely out of the way, she could greet her beloved with the warmth she reserved only for him.
And, oh joy, the timing was perfect for they were safely in the park by the time she discharged this special greeting, out of view of the servants certainly, but with a press of the fingers and a fleeting caress upon his cheek, which had his eyes widening with pleasurable surprise.
“My darling Teddy, I held this party purely so I had an excuse to invite you, and now you’ve made my birthday wish come true by being the first and arriving when the others are down by the river.” She held both his hands in hers, then raised them to kiss his fingertips as they communed by the bushes tucked away near the portico. “No, do not blush for we are unobserved. Oh, but I have missed you.”
“As I have you, Lady Debenham,” he murmured, and Araminta laughed, feeling happier than she could remember.
“There’s no need for you to be so formal. We are well away from prying eyes.”
“But your husband—”
