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

mood by saying in an uncharacteristically complimentary tone, “You look mighty fetching, Sybil. I don’t know what it is but you’re looking finer than I’ve seen you in a while. What have you done to yourself?”
    It certainly wasn’t happiness that had improved her appearance. Her spirits were lower than they’d ever been but she realized she was favoring bolder colors and styling. Why? Purely because Stephen Cranbourne had complimented her?
    She fanned herself at the memory of their encounter that first day. No man other than Humphry had ever seen her without her clothes.
    Stephen  should  have  recoiled  with  horror  from  the  sight  of  an  old  woman’s decaying body yet he’d been the opposite of either embarrassed or dismissive. He’d been positively charming.
    Recalling this, she raised her eyes just as Stephen glanced over at them. He looked young and very self-assured as he offered a half bow in acknowledgement, his eyes creasing into a smile, and Sybil, to her astonishment, blushed and was even more embarrassed when Humphry remarked, “I see you have won the admiration of our guest. He certainly speaks well of you while I, to my shame, just nod my head and agree. I take for granted the good works you do and the excellence with which you run the household, Sybil. I was surprised when Stephen himself observed you were quietly competent and efficient while asking nothing of those around you, as we took a walk the other day.”
    Pleasure made her sit straighter.
    Humphry put down his drink. “Of course, he has only his dissolute mama with which to compare you. Now, shall we retire and leave the young ones to while away a few more minutes without censorious eyes?” Sybil rose with him as he added, “You must call Hetty away too. I believe Stephen has something of importance to say to Araminta.”
    “But it’s only been a week.” How could Humphry know more than she? Besides, it was much too early. The furious beating of her heart and the cocktail of shock, surprise and...yes, resentment, took her by surprise. Her hand was shaking as she put down her glass.
    Humphry looked knowing. “I spoke to Araminta this morning and said she had two choices: to throw herself into her next season and try to snare a duke, which I told her she surely would with her looks and dowry. That would mean she’d be going to London in another month but that if she was prepared to remain a lowly viscountess at the Grange, she’d have to forgo London revels.”
    “Excuse me, ma’am.” Porter, the butler, stood half in the doorway. Sybil raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to go on, wondering what might have happened at such a late hour.
    “Well, what is it?” Humphry sounded suddenly tired and grumpy. He was like that when he’d had enough of Sybil’s company.
    “There is a visitor...”
    “What do you mean a visitor? At this hour?”
    Porter cleared his throat. He shifted his feet and seemed reluctant to speak until Humphry said even more testily, “We’re not receiving callers at this hour, Porter.”
    “My lord—” Porter’s Adam’s apple leapt up his throat. “It’s Master Edgar, my lord. Shall I tell him you’ll see him?”
    Sybil’s  hand  flew  to  her  mouth  to  stifle  the  gasp  that  threatened  to  bring  all attention upon this side of the room. “Oh, my dear Lord,” she whispered, her head reeling, while Humphry choked on his own response.
    Any decisiveness, however, was rendered unnecessary as Edgar appeared beside Porter,  pushing  his  way  in  with  the  careless  familiarity  of  youth,  saying  cheerily, “Uncle,  Aunt...”  Rising  from his bow,  Edgar’s myopic blue  eyes were  bright with enthusiasm. “You thought I’d copped a bullet and slipped off this mortal coil, didn’t you, eh, wot?” His vacuous grin—at least, that’s how Sybil had always thought of it— was twisted with pleasure at having “gammoned” them—his