He was no doubt amusing Lizzy Hazlett with the finer details while Sybil attended to the practicalities of having three houseguests. There was much work to do, such as organizing rooms to be made up, consulting with Cook to decide upon the menu, and the butler with regard to spirits and wine. Humphry was so rarely at the Grange she’d taken on most of the roles normally undertaken by the master of the house.
All the time her mind was half on Stephen, wondering what he was doing, what plans he was making for when he left.
How barren her life would be once he did.
It was while selecting some hothouse flowers in the conservatory that she spied Stephen through the glass. He was near the gardener’s hut, amidst a collection of jars. “Good lord, Stephen, you look like you’re participating in the black arts. Is this for tomorrow night?”
He regarded her seriously as he looked up from pushing a spider into a jar. A number were lined up and each contained large black spiders.
“Yes,” he said simply, and for a moment it looked as if he were about to take her hand.
Her heart shifted dangerously. The shrubs afforded a great deal of privacy. He could have extended some intimacy and how she wished he would. But he was being careful, obviously, after her rejection of his idea to slip away to the beech wood. Hadn’t she as good as said their affair was at an end?
“Let me introduce you. To the spiders,” he added. He sounded reserved. As if he were reluctant to let her closer and pain speared her. His eyes were wary but admiring. He looked like a young man in love might look if he feared rejection. “In this jar we have Lady Julia. See how large and glossy and self-satisfied she looks? She’s a prime article and she’ll gobble up her prey in a heartbeat, believe me.”
Sybil laughed. “It sounds as if you’re well acquainted with Lady Julia.” She peered into the jar. “She clearly doesn’t like the look of me. Look how she’s bared her fangs.”
“Ah, she’s jealous of you. She sees how it is. That I have eyes only for you and that no one else will do. Beware of Lady Julia. She will strike when you least expect it and her bite is lethal. Now here is Irresistible Araminta. She is quite innocent by Lady Julia’s standards but don’t be deceived. Her bite is just as lethal. She just hasn’t learned the art of sizing up her quarry. She makes mistakes. The gentleman spider who courts her may or may not come off second best. Lady Julia, on the other hand, is used to being victorious.”
Sybil looked longingly at Stephen’s strong, gentle hands and wished they clasped hers rather than the glass jar containing Irresistible Araminta.
“Ah, look!” Smiling, he held up another jar. “This is Miss Hetty. See how shyly she meets our eye? She’s not one to fear. She’ll not devour the man who wins her, like her bold sisters. We shall not put her forward in this contest for she’s too sweet to make a meal of anyone.”
“So that is how it works,” said Sybil and Stephen told her more about the large bet he’d lost involving spiders.
In almost all cases, he said, the female devoured the male after he’d impregnated her, adding that only males of unusually large size lived to tell the tale. He’d been convinced the puny male upon which he’d bet at Sir Archie’s and Lady Julia’s did not meet the criteria for survival.
Now Stephen was gathering the candidates for a repeat of the bet, which Humphry was promoting and which would take place—unbeknownst yet to Sir Archie and Lady Julia—in the Grange drawing room.
“Is there a Lady Sybil?” she asked.
He gave her an assessing look. “I’m not sure.” He looked into the next jar then shook his head. “No, this one’s deadly.” At the final jar, he lifted his head, saying uncertainly, “This one could perhaps be a Lady Sybil.”
Sybil moved closer. The irregular beating of her heart picked up speed.
He made no attempt to close the distance. Until he smiled and after holding her gaze for several long seconds, took her hand and brought it to his lips for a brief kiss.
Sybil had to force the words and her voice was unsteady as she whispered, “Why?” He lowered his face a fraction and whispered back, “She’s loyal and she’ll do anything to achieve what she thinks is right.” His lips were so close to hers. So close.
His eyes bored into her face as he went on in a murmur, “Even if it means hurting those she loves.”
Sybil breathed through the tightness of her chest. Trembling, desperate he’d follow up the kiss on the back of her hand with more, knowing she must not succumb if he did, she asked upon a thread of sound, “Do you think she will be victorious?”
Stephen studied the spider. Then her. “Victorious in what? Happiness? Are spiders ever truly happy?” Amusement crossed his features and he gave her hand a squeeze. “I think she’s set herself up for failure. Even in the best of situations she can’t succeed.” He drew in a deep breath. “But she can be happier than she is. She will of course have to submit to the male. That is her duty. It is the law of nature that she must procreate. Nature is depending upon her.”
He held her gaze. “But she has choices.”
Sybil made a derisive noise, which he silenced when he touched his forefinger to her lips.
“She is desirable.” He put his head closer and she closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth of his breath on her cheek. His words were like a caress. “So very desirable. She has suitors vying for her favors but she holds the trump card.”
Unconsciously, she leaned into him as he said softly, “The card of choice. She is in a position to choose the mate to sire her offspring...” His voice trailed off in a whisper full of desperate-making suggestiveness. “And who’s to know?”
Sybil swallowed. Then she gathered her wits and forced herself to smile, breaking the spell. “Poor, conflicted spider. If she is loyal there is only one choice to make.” She shrugged. “But I fear she is a foolish spider. I fear she has allowed her heart to get involved.” She bit her lip. “Doing the inevitable will be difficult.”
Stephen regarded her a long moment. Then he shrugged, releasing her hand. “So she plays the loyalty card.” Suddenly he was brisk. “Well, it had to end. You told me that. I just didn’t want to believe you.”
“In London—”