Free Her Gilded Prison (Daughters of Sin Book 1) by Beverley Oakley

before I present myself for dinner.”
    Stephen rubbed his chin, unsure what to do next. “Perhaps you should plead a megrim, ma’am, in view of your distress.”
    She gave him a wry smile. “Distress is a general state for me.” She seemed to register Stephen’s lack of surety and put her hand to his cheek as if to return the gesture of comfort. “I think you are kinder at heart than I gave you credit for. Perhaps you will be good for the Grange and for Araminta—if that is what you want.”
    In the semi dark, Stephen stroked the mare’s flank as he watched Lady Partington walk slowly toward the house. She carried herself with grace, the skirts of her crimson dress frothing around her ankles, and a sudden image visited him of her dark-gold tresses swinging around her hips. A surge of some identified feeling for her rose up in his breast, truncated by the sound of running footsteps from the opposite direction.
    “Bunty! Oh, you darling horse!” With a cry of joy, Araminta threw herself upon the horse’s neck and kissed the mare rapturously. It was a moment before she realized she was not alone.
    “Cousin Stephen!” she cried, smiling. “What are you doing here?”
    “I heard your mama’s distress over this animal. I believe your father bought her for you this afternoon.”
    Dimples  appeared  in  Araminta’s cheeks.  “Isn’t  she  beautiful?  The  finest  in  the county, I believe.”
    “Your mama doesn’t share your enthusiasm.”
    Araminta made a noise of irritation. “If Mama were cleverer—or prettier—perhaps Papa would want to spend more time with us instead of giving horses and no doubt other gifts to the ladies he prefers.”
    Stephen studied her in amazement. Did she know what she was saying?
    Which was? Quickly he went over the aspersions suggested by Lady Partington. “Your father gave this horse to another lady?” he asked bluntly.
    “Yes. Mrs. Hazlett, who’s apparently had to go away. Anyway, that’s according to Mrs. Mortimer in the village, who told me Mrs. Hazlett was looking to sell darling Bunty.”
    “If you suspect your father gave Bunty to this Mrs. Hazlett, aren’t you concerned at the thought of upsetting your mother? I’m sure I wouldn’t like to think of my wife bestowing such generous gifts on another man.”
    Araminta swung round from her enthusiastic petting of the horse with a glare. “Don’t you see? It’s why I did it.” In response to Stephen’s look of confusion she went on, “I wanted to teach Mama a lesson. If she wants to keep Papa here with us she must try harder. She’s such a little dormouse, isn’t she?”
    Stephen found himself actively revolting against her sentiments. “I don’t think so.”
    Araminta’s jaw dropped. Deciding against arguing, she stepped closer to him. Only a foot separated them and they were hidden from the house. “You can kiss me if you like, Cousin Stephen.”
    She tilted up her chin and closed her eyes. Tendrils of desire snaked through him yet his heart wasn’t in it.
    When Hetty called from the back step he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed.
    He drew back before Araminta did. “I shall have to be patient, shan’t I?”
    “And you shall be well rewarded for it, Mr. Cranbourne,” she promised in a whisper, giving his hand a quick squeeze before turning toward the house.
    * * * * *
    T hrough a haze of misery, Sybil observed the budding romance between Stephen and Araminta. Araminta made no secret of her feelings—that she wanted to be the next lady of the manor. She thought, too, that Araminta’s desire for the young man was genuine, which took the edge off her misery.
    Humphry’s thoughts echoed hers when he remarked after dinner, “How fortuitous that Araminta’s lofty ambitions will be grounded in true love.” Then he surprised her by adding, “Yet I wonder if Stephen is as smitten.”
    “Why, Humphry, I thought you imagined all men were in love with our daughter.” She liked