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“For goodness’ sake, will you stop being so wretchedly censorious, Jane!”

Araminta swung round on her seat and glared at her maid, who had just dropped the hairbrush and was r

ising.

“Sorry, Miss.” Jane blanched visibly at her mistress’s fury, which made Araminta feel far more charitable toward her. “I bin meaning to ask. Did the young lady like Miss Hetty’s green dress?”

Araminta frowned, irritated at the memory of that night, which hadn’t at all gone to plan. Teddy should have witnessed Lissa secretly closeted in the library with the dangerous Lord Debenham, but her stupid half-sister had for some unknown reason lent the gown to her employer’s social-climbing daughter.

“She didn’t wear it, after all. Now will you stop asking how other people enjoyed things and start worrying about whether I’m likely to enjoy tonight with a maid as inept as you dropping everything and being impertinent. Time is galloping and you haven’t started on my hair!”

Excitement at her tryst was gaining hold. In truth, it was difficult to imagine anything else but the magical feeling of being in the arms of a man who truly adored her, a man who would lavish upon her beautiful clothes, her own carriage, three houses full of servants.

What’s more, a man whose naked body she’d thoroughly enjoy curling against as wicked, wanton happenings took place beneath fine linen sheets—though tonight the only thing missing would be the linen sheets.

For some reason she was suddenly visited by an image of Sir Aubrey’s enormous pulsing member, but she quickly banished it. That had not been an encounter she should dwell on for her own peace of mind, though it had provided some useful information on what men’s bodies did when they were in the throes of desire. She’d not known about that before.

Well, she’d had sensations when pressed against eager young men, including Jem, but had never seen anything quite so blatant as Sir Aubrey’s impressive erection. She hoped Lord Ludbridge were similarly well-endowed.

Jane hadn’t responded to her setdown but now she finished doing up the last pearl button at the back of Araminta’s gown and stood back to assess her handiwork.

“You look lovely, miss. And I can hear the carriage coming round the front for you. What time will you be back this evening, Miss?”

“Good heavens, how do I know what time I’ll be?” Araminta flew to the window, her heart beating wildly as she saw the carriage that had just collected Mrs. Monks, her chaperone for the night.

What a pity Papa wasn’t in residence otherwise Teddy could have asked him for Araminta’s hand directly, this evening. Instead, he’d be asking Araminta in the summer house at Lord Billingsly’s estate, where they were going to be watching fireworks being set off from a barge moored in the middle of the river. There would also be an outdoor buffet and other refreshments laid out in festooned tents, and entertainments and champagne. Lots of it.

Shivers of excitement ran through her as she thought of what would happen next. Earlier, Araminta had sent Jane off on the pretext of selling a basket of fish to Lord Billingsly’s cook. Afterwards, Jane had navigated His Lordship’s estate, so Araminta knew the exact locations of the most suitable trysting spots. She now knew where she had to lead Teddy, and at what time.

“Mrs. Monks is waiting for you in the vestibule,” Cousin Stephen told her. “Enjoy the fireworks. And Araminta...?”

She stopped her preening in front of the mirror above the fireplace in the drawing room to glance at him. “What?”

“Do behave yourself.”

“Good heavens, Cousin Stephen, I think it would have been more charitable of you to have suggested I enjoy myself.” She took his arm as he led her outside to the carriage and breathed in the balmy evening air with rapture. “And I am going to enjoy myself. You may depend upon it.”

***

It was a perfect evening for such an entertainment. An evening full of promise.

Araminta wrapped her embroidered mantle about her. The tiny beads sparkled, reflecting the stars twinkling in the sky and the hope in Araminta’s heart.

She smiled and, turning, caught Teddy’s lovelorn look. Oh, but tonight was the beginning of a lifetime of fulfilled hopes and dreams. She had the perfect man by her side: besotted and rich.

Mrs. Monks was ever the millstone, but she knew that this was the night Araminta would get her proposal. Mrs. Monks would allow more than the usual latitude and it was useful that she knew enough of the other gossipy old matrons to be entertained.

“Shall we walk a little?” Teddy enquired. They were now on the banks of the river, surrounded by milling guests, festooned tents offering all manner of refreshments, jugglers, dancing bears and musicians. When he saw her glance about her, he added quickly, “I certainly don’t wish to be accused of taking liberties. Perhaps you would rather remain with the crowd.”

She could tell how impatient he was to whisk her away, alone, but perhaps a little mingling might be in order. It was always a good idea to whip up a gentleman’s desire to the maximum.

“A glass of champagne would be lovely,” she suggested.

A table near the water’s edge was tended by several bewigged footmen. They were filling champagne coupes borne by a dozen or more of their kind, scurrying along the path that skirted the river. Knots of revelers were laughing or gazing at the sky, watching the preparations that were taking place on the barge a hundred yards away.

Araminta graciously accepted the champagne Teddy offered her and, together with Mrs. Monks, they entered a tent festooned with multicolored chiffon scarves and lanterns hung about on poles. A pair of acrobats was performing in the center of the area. One leapt from the shoulders of his partner, somersaulting in the air before landing in a well-choreographed tumble before swapping positions.

Araminta stared, entranced by their gleaming, muscled torsos. She liked what a real man looked like beneath his linen. She overheard Mrs. Monks mutter something about the unseemliness of such a spectacle and Teddy tugged her arm, as if he felt that she should not be exposed to such rampant masculinity. With a backward look, she reluctantly followed.


Tags: Beverley Oakley Daughters of Sin Historical