Beyond Rubies (Daughters of Sin Book 4) (29 page)

“Well, I shall escort you tonight, Kitty. I insist.”

Kitty smiled and even looked pleased, he was glad to note. She inclined her head. “I’ll accept your offer, since I shall be wearing the very beautiful ruby necklace Nash gave me as a betrothal gift. Even though it won’t be seen when I’m outdoors, I shall be glad of your protection.” She patted her throat. “Look at the workmanship of that centerpiece ruby with the tiny clusters of diamonds all around it. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Who did you say gave you that necklace, Miss La Bijou?” Lord Ludbridge asked, and Kitty replied with pride and a pointed look at Silverton, “Lord Nash. He’s very generous, don’t you agree?”

“I say, are you feeling all right, Teddy?” Silverton asked. “Looking a bit green around the gills.”

His friend reassured them he was perfectly fine before he excused himself as he was due to make an appearance at Lady Marks’s Riverside Soiree, while Silverton was determined to make the most of the short time he had before Kitty met Lord Nash.

“Perhaps I could entice you to stop for a short while to share a drink with me, Kitty,” he entreated. “This will be the last time I might see you before you are married, and there’s something I’d like to ask you.”

She stopped amid the milling crowds on a corner beneath a lamp above which flapped a sign for a tavern called The Green Frog. “That’s far too enticing, Lord Silverton, so I’ll have to decline. You can say what you need to say, here.”

“Enticing? Is that what you said? Too enticing to spend time with me, yet you use that as a reason
not
to spend what I’d intended to be a very special moment together, Kitty?”

“Of course, my Lord. You want to persuade me not to marry Lord Nash, and perhaps you’ll even kiss me, and I really shan’t like that because the other night just reminded me how very much I like kissing you, and I can’t be reminded of such things when I’m to marry Nash.”

“How can you marry Lord Nash if you have feelings for me, Kitty?”

Kitty shrugged. “Perhaps, if you were courting Miss Bunting and hoping to make her your wife because she was a perfect candidate, you might still have preferred the idea of kissing me; yet obviously Miss Bunting offered what you felt you wanted and needed.”

She started walking again, and Silverton had to lengthen his stride to keep up.

“Kitty!” In a burst of feeling, he gripped her hand and swung her around to face him. “What you said was all but telling me you prefer me to Nash.”

“Exactly.” She sent him another of her engaging, beatific smiles. “But I like Nash very much, and Nash is making me an offer that will give me my heart’s desire.” She held out her hand and tapped her betrothal ring. “Marriage. Security. To a man who pleases me very much, and has the power to make me happy for the rest of my days.”

“So you’ve discovered he isn’t, in fact, the man foretold as your destiny by the gypsy fortune-teller?”

Kitty chuckled. “I was rather fanciful for rather a long time. No, I don’t believe in that sort of thing anymore, though it was good fortune I did when I met Nash otherwise things would never have developed the way they have.”

“Perhaps if you hadn’t persisted with those fanciful ways we would have been together, Kitty.”

She shrugged. “And I’d not be contemplating the happiest day of my life in three days’ time.”

“The happiest day of
my
life was when you said you preferred me to Nash.”

“Please let me go, Lord Silverton; people are staring.”

Silverton dropped his arm, and Kitty carried on walking. “You don’t seem to understand me, my Lord. The happiest day is destined to be the one where I gain what has been denied me from birth—respectability.”

“Oh, Kitty, Kitty, we could be so happy together!” Silverton urged. “Forget Nash. Come and live with me. I’ll make his generosity pale into insignificance compared with the...ruby and diamond necklaces, gowns, and carriages I’ll shower upon you.”

“As your mistress?” She shook her head. “Goodnight, Lord Silverton. Now, please leave. I am nearly at Mistress Kate’s, and I do not want Nash to observe you following me.”

A
raminta stared across the river and shivered. Not from the cool breeze that had sprung up, making this evening considerably colder than that fateful evening eight months before, when Lord Ludbridge had proposed in the rotunda on the hill a few hundred yards away, but from anticipation of how she and Lord Ludbridge might come to a new understanding.

Debenham had been out all day—gaming, she had no doubt. Once, this would have made Araminta furious, but tonight it was marvelously convenient. Debenham hadn’t inquired where she’d be, so it had been easy to slip away to Lady Mark’s riverside entertainment and assume he’d not follow. When various admiring gentlemen stopped to pay their respects, she’d pretended her husband was somewhere in the crowd.

The event brought back strong memories of the last time she’d attended Lady Marks’s soiree. She touched one of the colored lanterns which festooned the tent like a Persian Alhambra and wondered where Lord Ludbridge had got to.

It really was exceedingly irritating as Araminta was in a fever of expectation to see him again. She was certain she’d made plain that she had something very enticing to which he could look forward to, so when Mr. Woking appeared before her, proferring a choice of claret or Madeira, she chose the latter with ill grace. But as she’d just drained the last of hers, another bolstering draft was just what she felt she needed.

“All alone, Lady Debenham? Where is that reprobate uncle of mine when you need him, eh?”

Araminta sent him a narrowed look, as she tried to interpret whether he’d spoken mockingly or with genuine sympathy. Surely, despite his supposed disappointment when she’d reneged on her agreement to marry him eight months before to the very day, he didn’t still harbor a grudge? Yet aside from a sprinkling of fresh-faced debutantes, there were few to rival Araminta in beauty. It would seem, then, that Mr. Woking’s clear desire and obvious distress at having been denied Araminta for his wife were still keenly felt, which gave Araminta a surge of gratification, and she said airily, “I expect he’ll arrive when he pleases. He does like to keep his eye on me, Mr. Woking. Who is that young lady who is staring at us? See, over in that corner.”

Mr. Woking turned, squinted, then raised one eyebrow. “Miss Lucinda Martindale, Lord Beecham’s ward. I didn’t think she was officially ‘out’.” He sent the young lady who was quite conspicuous with her bright, golden ringlets and her pretty, petite figure, a lavish bow, muttering under his breath. “I wonder who is chaperoning her. I believe she’s gone through five governesses in the past two years. Miss Hazlett is no doubt having her work cut out.”

“Did you say Miss Hazlett?” The name of Araminta’s illegitimate half-sister amid this gathering of gentry was somehow shocking. “I thought she worked for the Lamonts. Or, she did.”

“That’s right, but now she is Miss Martindale’s governess. Speaking of the Lamonts, there’s Miss Maria Lamont over there, which means her brother is about, and he owes me a pretty sum.”

“Oh, you men and your love of gaming. I wish Debenham weren’t so fond of it. Excuse me, Mr. Woking. Someone is beckoning to me.”

Relieved to at last see the object of her desire, Araminta turned her back on the young man and hurried across to the doorway through which Lord Ludbridge had just entered, alone. His eyes lit up when he saw her, but though her own were dancing with invitation, Araminta put her fingers to her lips.

“At last, you have arrived, my dear Lord Ludbridge,” she murmured, holding up her fan to shield her excitement from others. “I’ve been in a fever of anticipation to see you again.”

“And I, you, Lady Debenham, for I have found your ruby necklace.”

“You have?” Araminta’s smile spread and her heart pounded as she imagined Lord Ludbridge, later this evening, holding up her hair from behind and fastening the catch over her naked throat during their forthcoming tryst. “Oh, Lord Ludbridge, you are my hero, and I intend to reward you.”

“Alas, I have not yet secured it, for it was around the throat of a very beautiful actress, the much-celebrated Miss Kitty La Bijou, whom we both saw in
Romeo and Juliet
several months ago.” He thrust out his hand, and she gasped to see the expertly rendered sketch which so clearly identified her necklace.

Araminta thought she would faint clean away upon the spot. “Kitty La Bijou? How is that possible?”

“Ah, Lady Debenham, Lord Ludbridge. I’m so glad you both have graced my entertainment with your presence.” Their hostess smiled warmly at each, beckoning over a servant to refill their glasses. “I promise the fireworks will surpass even those of last time but alas, I do not see Lord Debenham. Will he be attending?”

“I do hope so,” Araminta lied smoothly. “He has an important parliamentary dinner he was bound to attend.” Araminta was about to turn again to Lord Ludbridge in order to prettily request his gallant company, on the basis of Debenham’s request that he squire her in his absence, when, to her chagrin, his attention was claimed by a garrulous matron and her simpering charge.

Meanwhile, Lady Marks was similarly waylaid, and while Araminta could have been included in the discussion, she chose to absent herself momentarily so she could put her best-laid plan into action. Congratulating herself on her cleverness, she withdrew from her reticule the discreet note she’d written earlier that evening, and put out her hand to waylay a bewigged footman on his return from supplying a garrulous group with more champagne.

“I need you to give this to that gentleman over there,” she said, handing the note to the waiter and pointing to Lord Ludbridge. “The tall, fair-haired gentleman beneath the gold lantern.”

“The one standing beside the gentleman with whiskers, ma’am?”

“That is correct.”

Assured that the recipient had been properly identified, and reassured that the nature of the note was cryptic enough that it would cause no damage if perchance it fell into the wrong hands, Araminta sent a final seductive glance in Lord Ludbridge’s direction before leaving the tent for the welcoming fresh air.

She knew from before that it was not a long or onerous climb to reach the top of the hill where the enclosed rotunda perched with its magnificent river views.

Jane had again reported back that access was easily gained; that the window seats were lined with comfortable cushions, and that the door was unlocked. Now Araminta would simply avail herself of a hanging lantern, and take a short detour around the back of the entertainment in order to be hidden from general view as she made her ascent. As her evening slippers were made of silk, she removed them when she was out of sight, but the ground was soft, and it was no hardship to gain the sanctuary of her enclosed rotunda.

Hooking the lantern on the rafter by the entrance, she slipped inside to wait, hoping it wouldn’t be long before Teddy could make his escape. She’d made it quite plain where she wanted to meet, and that she desired a repeat of their union of eight months before but with a different conclusion.

If she couldn’t have Teddy as a husband, she was determined to enjoy him as a lover. Besides, he’d located the ruby diamond necklace, and soon he would retrieve it for her, as he’d promised. It was tempting to delay the seduction she had in mind until that had been achieved, but as that would mean denying herself as much as Teddy, she thought she could allow a little latitude. The truth was, she was hot and hungry to feel his arms about her; the slickness of their naked skins as they writhed in mutual passion. Just thinking about it made her squirm, so that when she heard the soft crunch of footsteps upon the gravel just beyond the steps that led up to the portico, her body was consumed by the most intense rush of desire she’d ever experienced.

Quickly, she arranged herself in an artfully seductive pose, half reclining upon the red-velvet upholstered banquette, her one knee bent and her skirt rucked up, discreetly, but with a flash of stocking top and bare thigh above. She’d have liked to have removed her gown altogether and simply thrown herself into his arms, but Teddy was a man of restraint. His gentlemanly doctrine had held fast in the face of her womanly enticements the night he’d asked for her hand in marriage, when he’d declared he could only commit the marriage act once he’d made an honest woman of her. And, of course, that meant leaving immediately for the Continent to perform some pointless act of chivalry, prioritizing a childhood friend ahead of Araminta, who needed him so badly as a potential father in order to legitimatize her baby.

Well, she’d forgiven him now. And she needed him as much as she did then. Only this time, for herself. She put her hands to her heated cheeks, then to the rise and swell of her heated bosom, cupping her breasts and dipping her head in coquettish invitation as the door was slowly, tentatively opened.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt the rush of moisture between her legs and a whirl of mindless wantonness that left her giddy and dazed.

And then her head cleared as if cold water had been poured over her as, horrified, she beheld the beak-nosed, oafish face of Mr. Woking, peering owlishly into the gloom.

“Mr. Woking!” Araminta shrieked, sitting up abruptly as he stepped inside. He blinked as if caught by surprise, but closed the door behind him nevertheless.

“Get out this instant! What are you doing here?”

At her shrillness, he seemed to gather his wits, stepping across the stone floor, one hand extended and holding, Araminta now saw, a piece of parchment.

“Thief!” she cried, lunging forward to try to snatch the note she’d written to Teddy, but at the last moment, Mr. Woking snatched it away.

“Who is the thief?” He thrust forward his receding chin as he put his hands on his hips and looked pointedly from her face to her mid-region. “My uncle is the thief, though he does not know it. Yes, the thief of
my
baby!”

Araminta took a couple of shaky steps backward and shook her head. “Of course, it’s not your baby,” she muttered, her hands nevertheless fluttering to her stomach, as she thought of how the baby Mr. Woking claimed to have fathered had already been lodged in her belly for more than a month the night she seduced him. Not that he could ever know that. No one ever must. Especially not her husband.