Her Gilded Prison (Daughters of Sin Book 1) (23 page)

Rapture made her giddy. He was in love with her. Swaying in his arms, she reached her hands up to pull him down for another kiss, murmuring against his lips, “I would choose happiness in a hovel with you, Stephen, any day over a loveless marriage in this gilded prison.” She drew back. Tenderly, she traced the beloved contours of his face, her heart pounding as she whispered, “But you are young with your life ahead of you. Possibly I have already blighted your prospects. If you are no longer to be heir you must at least be allowed to prosper and enjoy what is the right of every young man of courage and integrity: a position of responsibility and importance—and Humphry can see that you are offered that. I will not hold you back.”

Wonderingly, she traced his mouth, committing his lips to memory. For memories were all she would have, though the knowledge that she was loved filled her with bittersweet joy.

Loved where she’d never thought possible.

It was enough. Enough to sustain her through what she must endure in the next...five years? Twenty?

“You’ll always know where I am.” He winced as if her touch were too much for him to bear, even as he moved in to her. “And if you ever need me, Sybil, you have only to ask. If I am in Timbuktu or the Spice Islands, I will come.”

The stable lads arrived and Humphry broke off his discussion as he directed them to lead Dr. Marsh to the lake. Stephen’s declarations became more urgent.

“Sybil, I mean what I say. When I go to London, I want you to know I am only three hours’ hard ride away and that I’d do anything, drop anything, say anything...if you ever need my help. You must believe that.”

She nodded. She’d never believed anything more. “And Sybil—”

“Hush, Stephen, Humphry’s coming.”

He gripped her shoulders tightly and brought his face close. “Always know I love you, Sybil. For always.”

“Sybil? Stephen?”

Humphry’s voice intruded, loud and demanding. He was nearly upon them. Stephen drew her farther into the shadows, his arms sliding down her back and behind her head to draw her deeply into his kiss.

His final kiss.

Fire tore through her as she cleaved to him, glorying in the sensations only Stephen had ever evoked within her once-parched heart and soul.

With a shuddering sigh he broke away, then, clenching his fist, he managed to sound almost casual as he replied, “Yes, my lord,” though he still held Sybil tightly. He lowered his head, his whisper the final, flimsy thread she had to cling to. “I don’t believe in hopeless farewells.” Making a fist, he touched it to his heart. “This is where you will live, Sybil.” He made a move to break the contact in order to respond to His Lordship then hesitated, turning to once more grip Sybil’s shoulders. “Did you mean what you said, my love?” His eyes seemed to shred her soul. “About preferring poverty with me?”

She nodded. “I’ve never been more sincere—” She cut the words short, fear at his youthful impetuosity flooding her with panic. “No, Stephen, you mustn’t.”

He retained his grip, pulling her with him from behind the curtain so that she blinked, dazed in the light. Exposed...Stephen still gripping her hand.

Humphry cocked his head. His expression was quizzical. Probably the events of the night had addled his sense of reality. Then, perhaps perceiving the flushed countenance of his reinstated heir and the agitation of his wife, he inquired slowly, his tone now laced with suspicion, “Mustn’t what...my dear?”

Sybil shook her head. To utter a single word might condemn Stephen when he still had an opportunity to wriggle out of what he’d incautiously begun.

But Stephen paid no heed to the urgent tug of her hand. Retaining it in a vise-like grip, he straightened his shoulders and there was no trace of uncertainty in his tone when he replied, “Mustn’t tell you, my lord, that I am in love with Lady Partington and that  I  seek  her  happiness  above  all  else—yet  that  can  only  happen  with  your approbation.”

The widening of his eyes and apparent loss of balance was the only indication Lord Partington had even heard. He opened his mouth to speak, transferring his incredulous expression from Stephen’s brave, determined face to Sybil’s no-doubt cowering expression before demanding, “Are you bamboozling me?”

Stephen cocked his head, bringing Sybil’s hand briefly to his lips before saying, “It is common knowledge, my lord, that you’ve kept a mistress for the duration of your marriage.” He cleared his throat. “I realize that I risk both Lady Partington’s happiness and that of my own by approaching the matter with such boldness, and yet I had hoped to appeal to your generous...and liberal nature by making a clean breast of things. Skullduggery is not my favored course, and so I would ask you now to sanction a union between your wife and myself along the lines of the one you’ve enjoyed with Mrs. Hazlett.”

Had Stephen really said that? Spoken so transparently of matters which were never discussed between even Sybil and Humphry?

Sybil glanced fearfully at her husband, whose growing apoplexy in the lengthening silence didn’t augur well. She put her hand on his sleeve and said apologetically, “I know it’s a shock, Humphry, and I did try to warn you when I mentioned I’d taken you at your word after you indicated a preference for handing the estate over to the head stable lad rather than Edgar—”

“I never did!”

“You did, Humphry. And you were completely against the idea of siring your own heir, and since you’d taken such a shine to Stephen, I persuaded him to help me do what I thought would ultimately please you, and that would, I hoped, ensure Hetty’s happiness—ensure Edgar was not going to be heir and therefore marry Araminta.” She swallowed. She stared at her feet before casting an imploring look at his face. “Things got rather out of hand after that.”

Humphry shook his head, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn’t push out the right words. Finally he said, “Are you suggesting an heir might already be in the offing?”

Sybil glanced at Stephen as she unconsciously contoured her belly, before she raised her eyes to answer her husband. “It’s more than possible, and if so, I am fully sensible of the bitter irony in having thus blighted Stephen’s prospects.”

Stephen cleared his throat. “I bear Lady Partington no ill will, should that indeed come to pass. My most pressing concern, however, is if you will sanction a discreet union between your wife and myself.” His impatience was clearly growing. “Araminta and Hetty will soon remove to London for the season and presumably their mother will accompany them. I’d hoped to trade on your goodwill and secure a position in the Foreign  Office,  though  tonight’s  handsome  winnings—thanks  to  your  Lordship’s generous machinations—will  be sufficient to see me through the next few months, should you reconsider your generous offer in backing me.”

Humphry seemed suddenly to snap into renewed life. “Are you really asking for my blessing? Asking me to sanction this scandalous...outrageous situation?” His eyes bulged and he had to grip the curtain to steady himself. “You’ve made a cuckold of me...yet you have the cheek to believe I may still offer you my patronage?”

It was rare Humphry was so moved to anger, but it was a necessary catharsis, Sybil believed, in an all-but intolerable situation for her husband. She put a comforting hand on his arm. “Humphry, Stephen takes a grave risk in bringing this into the open when we could have carried on a clandestine affair and you’d have been none the wiser regarding the two of us and the paternity of the child who might one day inherit.” She strove to sound soothing rather than combative. “You have every legal right to cast me off yet I ask you, what good would that serve? The scandal would be intolerable and if there were no child, or it were a girl, Stephen would still be your heir. For years I’ve begged you to lie with me so I might conceive another son.”

At his bluster of embarrassed outrage she held up her hand for silence. “It seems that since George’s death you’ve thrown yourself into being Lizzy Hazlett’s husband to the extent you are completely unable to perform your conjugal obligations. Yes, Humphry, conjugal obligations. Believe me, if you choose to follow the path of publicly disgraced, cuckolded husband and discard me and cut Stephen off without a penny, I will disseminate every sordid aspect of our marriage and reasons behind its dissolution to the courts and to the world.” She took a deep breath. “Do you really want that?”

Humphry’s telling silence suggested Sybil’s argument had found fertile ground, yet when he suddenly burst out, “Is Stephen a complete and utter fool that he would risk his future for love of you, Sybil?” she cringed at the denigration she was so used to, and at his anger.

Stephen drew in an outraged breath and would have spoken had Humphry not continued, “If you are not already carrying Stephen’s child further dealings with you all but ensure that he is throwing away any chance he has of inheriting the estate.” He nearly choked on the words, “Do you think you’re really worth the boy ruining his future?”

Sybil felt the tears well up behind her eyes as she shrank into herself. He spoke only the truth.

Rallying behind this new approach, Humphry’s tone became almost conciliatory. “Stephen, my boy. You’re young. Only twenty-four. You don’t know what love is.” He clapped him on the shoulder, almost fatherly. “Sybil has enticed you into what was, no doubt, a well-meaning attempt to ensure Edgar didn’t inherit and you’ve been seduced by the excitement and novelty of an older woman throwing herself at you—”

“With due respect, you misinterpret the situation, my lord.” Stephen spoke crisply as he drew back from Humphry’s touch. “I am no green boy. I understand very well the ramifications for my own future and I understand my heart and mind very well. I’m willing to take whatever risks—and precautions—necessary to secure Lady Partington’s happiness, which runs in accord with mine. All I ask is for your...understanding.”

“Understanding!”

Stephen nodded calmly, as if Lord Partington had repeated the word with approbation rather than in outrage. He went on, “I wish to pursue a career—and I believe my experience abroad equips me for distinguishing myself in the Foreign Office—at the same time as enjoying the domestic felicity with Sybil that you have enjoyed these past twenty years with Mrs. Hazlett.” He spoke with quiet authority, adding, “We are both grown men who understand what is worth fighting for, but know, too, when it is wiser to back down.”

His expression softened as he gazed at Sybil, tense with terror and expectation beside him, before confronting Lord Partington once more. “It is my understanding, my lord, that you bitterly regretted the fact you allowed yourself to be influenced by your pater in the matter of your marriage to Lady Partington when your desire was for a union with Mrs. Hazlett.” He paused before lowering his voice to add softly, “In that light, surely you can understand why I take such bold risks to secure my future happiness?”

Stephen’s closeness and his championing words were like a physical caress.
Dear Lord
,
prayed Sybil, let Humphry show the kindness of which I know he is capable.

Tensely, she watched him battle the expected emotions he’d feel at this bolt from the blue—injured pride, incredulity, anger...

Terrified but desperate, she whispered, “You’ve never loved me, Humphry. You’ve apologized for it for years. Please,” she begged, “allow me just a little happiness. We cannot change what has happened. I may be with child or I may not. If I am, it may never be born or it may be a girl, in which case the succession remains unchanged.” She reached for Stephen’s hand, which she gripped tightly as she added, “If I am not, we have every incentive to ensure I do not become
enceinte
so that Stephen remains your heir—a situation, I might add, that you seemed perfectly content to accept when the idea of conjugal relations with me was clearly repugnant and against your notion of honor and fidelity toward Mrs. Hazlett.”

Humphry opened his mouth to speak, closed it again then turned away, shaking his head. “God knows it was a sorry day I bowed to my father’s dictates and wed you, Sybil,” he muttered.

Stephen stepped forward and spoke, suddenly urgent. “Then you cannot be surprised, my lord, when I tell you that if you do not condone a discreet union between Sybil and myself that we will defy you anyway, despite the scandal which will cost us all, dearly, and despite the pecuniary and other obstacles that you are in a position to throw at us.”

He pulled Sybil close to him as if to protect her, adding fiercely, “You may feel you need time to think about this, my lord, but we are not awaiting your decision—for ours is made already. Come, Sybil.”

They were almost at the door when Lord Partington ground out, “Wait!”

They turned, the expectation almost more than Sybil could bear as she watched the anguished workings of her husband’s expression. His unkempt gray hair added to his air of defeat—for that’s what she recognized, and she was almost sorry for him as she accepted the pain his twenty years at her side had caused him.

He glared at Stephen. “You are due to leave for London tomorrow. I’ve already spoken to my contacts in the Foreign Office and had prepared a letter of introduction, which I had intended giving to you before you left.”

Despair curdled in Sybil’s gut. Stephen’s bold gamble had not paid off. He was going to cast Stephen adrift and Sybil would spend the rest of her life torturing herself with self-recrimination for her role in her beloved’s fall from grace.

Stephen nodded curtly. “Then we go without your blessing, my lord. For Sybil is coming with me. She will not remain here, a prisoner.”

“A  prisoner! Ha!”  Lord  Partington’s  tone was  bitter.  “I’ve  been  a  prisoner  for twenty years!” He shook his head. “Sybil is not going with you, Stephen, for the scandal would ruin us all. But—”

Sybil returned Stephen’s convulsive grip on her hand as she, too, tensed for what was about to come.

“But you leave here with my support and prospective employment on one condition.”

Stephen’s inquiring look was his only response before Lord Partington finished on a sigh, “Sybil and I will continue this charade of a marriage for the sake of appearances, for to do anything else would ruin Araminta’s and Hetty’s chances, though it would appear your bold risk, Stephen, in pushing for an outcome here and now had not factored that into the equation.”