The Rogue's Reluctant Rose (25 page)

With great interest and growing understanding, Harriet watched the brief play of emotions across the marquis’s handsome, aristocratic face. Clenching his jaw, he rose and quickly excused himself, before disappearing out of the door. She heard the angry pounding of hooves on the gravel as he flew away from the house.

Sitting in her parlour, suddenly alone, the young widow found herself convinced of a very surprising fact. Jasper Devereaux, the perilous marquis of Chestleton, was hopelessly in love with her sister-in-law.

***

Two days later, Lady Huston came to the Worthing townhouse, sweeping imperiously into the parlour where Araminta and Susan were seated. It was still early and Susan was busy at her needlepoint, which she claimed kept her mind well off the anxiety and excitement of her upcoming nuptials. Susan was very clever with needle and thread, where Araminta’s own skill was only passable. She supposed it came of always shirking her samplers whenever she could as a little girl, in favour of playing cricket with Charles and some of the village children in the gardens. While her cousin sewed, Araminta sat reading a book of poems.

They had not been expecting Lady Huston’s arrival, and both young ladies were surprised to hear that her carriage had drawn up at the door.

Having greeted the young ladies with all the grace of her station, Lady Huston turned to look at Araminta’s book, and delicately raised an eyebrow.

“What, Miss Barrington, reading at a time like this? There is a wedding to be put together, my girl.”

Araminta quickly hid her surprise under a polite smile.

“And what is it that you are reading, Miss Barrington?” The tone seemed to suggest that nothing short of a guide book for young brides would be deemed acceptable.

“It is a book of poetry, madam.” Araminta lifted the book. The burgundy cover looked very dramatic contrasted with her delicate, pale hands.

“Poetry! The indulgence of young ladies. Such a frivolous thing to read, my girl.”

“Oh, I think they are quite beautiful.”

Lady Huston gave her a long, level stare for a moment. “Well, perhaps you do, Miss Barrington. Of course, married women have little time for such fancies, and you will soon be Lady Stanton.”

“Do you know, madam, that mine is not the only happy news? My cousin, Susan, is to marry Lord Harris.”

The lady’s eyes turned to regard Susan, who smiled and nodded.

“Yes, I saw it advertised. Congratulations, Miss Sutton.”

“Thank you, your ladyship.”

“I cannot help noticing that Timothy has yet to advertise
your
engagement, Miss Barrington.” There was faint disapproval in Lady Huston’s voice.

Araminta blinked in surprise, setting aside her book onto the sofa. “It has only been two days, your ladyship.”

“Only? Why, Miss Barrington, anyone might believe you are not impatient to be married. This season was not your first, after all.”

“It was not.”

“Well, then.”

“I am very happy to be marrying Sir Timothy. But two days is hardly a long engagement. And it would not be seemly to rush things, especially not in light of my brother’s death only six months ago.”

“Yes, I am aware of your family’s tragedy. I was very sorry to learn of it. But my dear, you cannot hold yourself back indefinitely in deference to Lady Fanshawe’s grief. I understand she has begun wearing grey.”

“She has, and she is overjoyed that I will soon be married. It would not be at all like Harriet to begrudge me any happiness.” Araminta was quick to defend her sister-in-law. She ignored the shrewd way Susan was suddenly looking at her, having put aside her embroidery to watch the exchange.

“In that case there can be no reason to delay. I will speak to Timothy. The engagement must be announced at once.” The passion of Lady Huston’s words surprised Araminta, who could not help but wonder at the lady’s eagerness to see her nephew married.

Susan seemed to think so too, because her blue eyes met Araminta’s in puzzlement.

Lady Huston was too busy critically examining a painting on the wall behind Araminta to notice the glance. The painting featured a panoramic view of the English countryside on a pleasant summer afternoon, as seen from a hill near Fanshawe Hall. Looking at it always pleased Araminta — Lady Worthing’s work was rendered with such delicacy that she could almost imagine that she was there, under the warm sunshine, that she could smell the summer grass and wild flowers.

“And what sort of artwork is this, Miss Sutton?” Lady Huston asked presently.

“Why, it is a landscape, ma’am.”

“I can see that, child. I meant, whose work is it?”

“My mother’s. She painted that when she was just a girl at Fanshawe Hall.”

“It is a very pretty view. The estate is quite vast then?”

“Yes, your ladyship.”

Araminta wondered what interest a lady as wealthy as the Baroness Huston could possibly have in the Fanshawe estate, moneyless as it was. She was sure the comparison to her own holdings would not be favourable.

“Hmm. Well, I own I have never seen it for myself, but perhaps that may still be remedied.”

“Of course, your ladyship. I am sure Harriet will be very pleased to have you come out to see her now that she is no longer in black gloves.”

“Yes. Well, Miss Barrington, I hope you don’t mean to sit there all day with your book. If you will not get on with planning your nuptials, then I will request your company. It is a fine day and I desire to take a turn about the park. I wish that you would accompany me.”

Araminta looked conflicted for a moment — she truly did not feel in the mood to be out in society, even if it was just to ride around the park. Unable to think of any polite way to refuse, however, and every minute aware of the debt she owed Sir Timothy, she rose from the sofa.

“I shall return presently, your ladyship. I mean only to fetch my parasol.”

“Very well, Miss Barrington. I shall await you in my landau. Good day, Miss Sutton.”

***

“She is certainly a very curious sort of woman,” observed Susan when they were alone. Her eyes were fixed on Araminta’s face as if she were trying to read her reaction. “I wonder that she takes such interest in the wedding.”

“It is certainly unusual. I suppose it could simply be that Sir Timothy has been like a son to her.”

“Perhaps,” said Susan doubtfully. She looked as if she meant to speak again, and Araminta anxiously thought that she would not be able to answer the sort of questions Susan might ask next.

“I must hurry,” she said quickly. “It would not do to keep her ladyship waiting.”

Asking a passing maid to summon Kitty to her rooms, Araminta hurried upstairs, where she put on a burgundy velvet spencer, which matched the embroidery on her day dress. She had just retrieved her parasol when her duenna arrived at her bedroom door.

“Miss Minta, whatever is the matter? I was told you called for me urgently.”

“Lady Huston is waiting for me in her carriage, Kitty. We are to go with her to the park.”

“Of course, Miss. Shall I fix your hair?”

Araminta glanced at herself in the mirror, critically taking in her untameable locks, which had begun to escape the many pins Kitty used each morning to keep them in place.

“No, there isn’t time. I do not wish to keep her ladyship waiting. It will have to do.”

Araminta was not at all keen to ride around the park with Lady Huston. Try as she might, she could not be comfortable in the presence of the great lady, and she had not the slightest idea what they would talk about. She hoped the woman did not mean to torment her with more marriage talk.

As it transpired, marriage talk was exactly what the lady had had in mind. Araminta tried not to shift about under Lady Huston’s careful stare as she discussed everything from Sir Timothy’s favoured meals to the upbringing which would be expected of their children.

The stare was mirrored by a pair of beady canine eyes peering at Araminta from the seat next to her ladyship. The creature was coiffed to within an inch of its life, and it made Araminta feel scruffy by comparison.

“Amadeus, my dear,” Lady Huston had drawled when Araminta had first alighted the carriage and seen the poodle. “He’s a very good sort of creature, but do try not to touch him. He has a very quick temper.”

The dog had sniffed at Araminta but otherwise remained stoic. Araminta did not tell her fiancé’s aunt that she had not the least desire to touch the animal. She did not like poodles — she had almost been bitten by one as a child, and had had an aversion to the dreadful creatures ever since.

“Of course, you will need to look into finding the right sort of governess directly,” her ladyship lectured. “It is of the utmost importance, and there is no time to waste if you are to find the best. I shall ask around — she must come highly recommended. None of those poor vicars’ daughters just come up from the country will do.”

“Is it not too soon to be thinking of governesses, Lady Huston? Sir Timothy and I are not even wed yet,” Araminta pointed out softly, only to be rewarded by a look of exasperation from the other woman. Kitty sat on the box next to Lady Huston’s groom, and Araminta suddenly felt quite alone.

“Too soon, Miss Barrington? Nonsense. Have you not been listening? It is very difficult to find exactly the right sort of woman for the position, and one must start as soon as possible,” she huffed impatiently. “I understand your own mother’s passing did not allow for her to impart such invaluable knowledge upon you, but I own I am quite shocked that your aunt did not. Particularly with her own daughter’s upcoming nuptials, such thoughts cannot possibly be far from her mind. Well. No matter — I shall just have to continue instructing you myself. After all, you must know how to do your duty as a wife and mother, and present my nephew with the sort of heir worthy of the Stanton name.”

“Of course, Lady Huston, I appreciate your advice,” Araminta said, with a demure inclination of her head. She firmly reminded herself that it would not do to be rude to the beloved aunt of the man with whom she planned to spend the rest of her life. In her imagination, however, some bolder, wilder version of herself, a version which she had glimpsed in her stay at Dillwood Park, told the woman to mind her own business, that she would bring up her children any way she pleased and hire the first governess that crossed her path on her way out of the country if it took her fancy. Her polite smile did not waver even as the uncomfortable thought of her wifely duties occurred to her.

She had never really thought so far as this. The objective had always been to receive a proposal. The thought of wifely duties in connection with Sir Timothy made her uncomfortable, and she berated herself for her own squeamishness. She was not the first woman to marry without love, after all, and she would not be the first to undertake such duties with more stoicism than joy. Unbidden, the thought of a pair of slate grey eyes, strong arms, and a touch which burned like fire, sprang to mind — she had certainly felt no reluctance then She pushed the thought from her mind.

The park was busy. It seemed that all of London was out enjoying the fine weather, and Lady Huston’s groom stopped the carriage many times so that she and Araminta could greet friends and exchange pleasantries. The carriage had been at a standstill for quite some time while Lady Huston spoke with her friend Lady Audley, when Sir Timothy unexpectedly drew up beside them in his curricle. He pulled to a sharp stop next to the ladies, displaying his excellent driving skills.

“Good day Aunt, Lady Audley, Miss Barrington — my dear Araminta,” he greeted with a roguish smile.

“Oh, Timothy!” exclaimed Lady Huston, with a disapproving look at his sporting carriage. “I do wish you would not race about in that dreadful vehicle. You are bound to overturn yourself.”

“Nonsense, aunt,” laughed Sir Timothy. “Why, the speed is the thrill of the thing. And I have yet to overturn it even once. Miss Barrington agrees, don’t you, my dear?”

“She most certainly does not. Miss Barrington is a lady,” interjected her ladyship, before Araminta could reply.

“Of course, Aunt.”

“Now, Miss Barrington, I suppose I am to set you down here. No doubt my nephew wishes to take you up in his curricle. Your Mrs Wakefield may stay here with Lady Audley and myself. There is no space in the curricle, and she can watch you from here.”

“Thank you, Lady Huston.”

“Not at all, child. We shall speak more another day.”

Lady Huston’s groom held Sir Timothy’s horses while the gentleman helped Araminta step from the landau and up into the curricle.

“Now, drive at a respectable speed, my boy. You don’t wish to scare Miss Barrington,” instructed the baroness, before dismissing them and inviting Lady Audley to sit up with her.

“You have a very well matched pair,” observed Araminta, for want of anything better to say. She felt suddenly uncomfortable, her conversation with the baroness fresh in her mind. She thought of how much she owed the man next to her.

“Thank you, Araminta,” Sir Timothy chuckled. “Fine they certainly are, though not at all the sort of horses a lady would be safe to drive. I’ve only just acquired them at Tattersall’s and they came at a dashed bargain, too.”

They rode on in silence for a while longer.

“Now, my dear, I say, is something wrong? You have been very quiet.”

Araminta flushed at being discovered, and her beautiful eyes flew to his face as she wondered what she ought to say.

“No. No, nothing is at all wrong, Sir Timothy.” She looked anxiously around at the other people enjoying the park.

“Call me Timothy, my dear. We are to be married, after all.”

“Of course. Timothy,” she repeated uncertainly. Thinking furiously, Araminta weighed up her options. It had been against his express wishes that she had even learnt of his help to her family. And it was not the sort of thing one spoke about, but she knew deep down that she
had
to speak. She could feel the words waiting to burst out of her, and she could not imagine spending the rest of her life joined in marriage to this man without having ever spoken with him on the subject. It was now or never, and if she chose the coward’s way and kept her silence it would eat away at her for the rest of her days. If they were to have a chance of happiness together, she had to speak no matter how difficult it felt. Araminta Barrington was no coward.