“Surely there is an aged aunt who might assist you,” one lady suggested.
“On the contrary,” Araminta pointed out proudly. “We are quite content with our current situation. Besides, it’s not as if my sister and I are fresh out of the schoolroom.”
“Indeed, not.” The lady had huffed indignantly. “But I’m not sure being a spinster is something I should be proud of.”
Araminta merely smiled. “I choose to consider it as self-reliance.” She lifted a brow. “Or perhaps freedom from enslavement.”
She took a bit of pleasure in seeing the woman’s mouth drop open before she flounced out of the box with a decided huff.
“Making friends already, I see,” Isadora drawled from beside her.
“I have a particular talent for chasing away the unwanted,” Araminta said proudly.
Her sister merely snorted in return.
Araminta was still wearing a smile when she glanced toward the back of the box where the crowd had thinned. But it slipped slightly, her heart picking up speed when she spied a tall man ducking to enter. He was quite breathtaking with his pitch-black hair and shocking blue eyes that seemed to take in more than his expression would ever reveal. He was dressed in the height of fashion, in stark black and white, but she decided that made him appear even more appealing than if he was decked out in color like a dandy.
Their eyes clashed and she quickly looked away, something that rather shocked her, for she was usually the stronger one. As her gaze shifted to the man at his side, equally appealing with his shock of blond hair and dark eyes that held a wicked gleam in their depths, he didn’t affect her nearly as much as the first.
A woman, whom Araminta had completely overlooked until that point, walked forward and offered a slight curtsy, which Araminta returned. “Good evening. I was tasked with making introductions.” She turned to Isa. “Lady Isadora. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“Lady Abaline,” Isadora returned evenly. “I didn’t realize you would be in town so soon after your husband’s death. Allow me to offer my condolences.”
“Thank you.” The other woman’s smile was rather tight, although she returned with a challenge in her tone, “But then, you’re not the only one who can defy convention, are you?”
“Apparently not,” Isa murmured. She turned to Araminta. “Surely you remember the former Miss Sabine Groves? She wed our neighbor in Broxbourne, the Baron Abaline a year ago, but the union was decidedly short. Was it even a month?”
Memory finally surfaced in Araminta’s brain. From what she could remember of the baron, he had been a kindly, grandfather sort of figure who had grown children. He had visited her father several times over the years. But why he’d felt the need to marry such a girl as Sabine when he could have spent his last days in peace was beyond her comprehension.
“Indeed, accidents happen all the time.” Lady Abaline blinked innocently. “From what I understand, your father knew that all too well.”
When Isadora opened her mouth to reply to such a nasty comment, Araminta realized that it was time to intercede before a brawl ensued. While Isadora might not have trained with Gentleman Jackson in London, she had been taught how to deliver a rather effective punch to the jaw. Their father had told her it was one of her best traits.
“Perhaps now isn’t the time—”
“Lady Abaline, if you could cease—”
Araminta stopped midsentence, as did the dark-haired man who had stepped forward at the same time with his own plea for a cease-fire.
Without even waiting for the baroness to reply, he bowed politely to Araminta. “Forgive the intrusion, my lady. My friend and I were merely wishing to gain an audience properly.” He leveled a glare at the blond gentleman. “I see now that was a mistake and we should have just prevailed upon your good graces.” He gestured to Lady Abaline, who was then taken by the arm and escorted out of the box by his companion.
Once they were gone, he returned his attention to her. “Allow me to introduce myself if I may. I’m Greyson Hartfield, the Earl of Somers. And you are?”
He waited patiently for her to supply her name, which she did. “Lady Araminta Bevelstroke, my lord. And these are my sisters, Lady Isadora, Lady Calliope, and Lady Olivia.”
He inclined his head to each one in turn and Araminta was glad to see that the set of Isadora’s shoulders had relaxed slightly, the tension in her frame dissipating somewhat with Lady Abaline’s departure and the ensuing charm from Lord Somers. “Dare I hope to see you ladies about town more often?”
That blue gaze shifted to Araminta and held, as if he was addressing her in particular. For some inane reason, her heart thumped erratically at the idea. “You can guarantee it, my lord.”
Two
“Wonderful idea, enlisting the help of one of your former paramours to make a good impression on the Marlington chits.” Grey smacked his gloves on his thigh, the light snow falling outside still clinging to his greatcoat, as he glared at Seb across from him in his carriage. His friend had joined him at the theatre that evening, although after what had taken place, Grey nearly left him there to take a hackney home.
“How was I to know that they knew each other and didn’t get along?” Seb grumbled, his arms folded across his chest. “As if I’m pleased about this unfortunate set of circumstances either. The actress I had my eye on wouldn’t even grant me a private audience after she saw me trying to placate Lady Abaline.”
“How dreadful,” Grey said with disinterest.
Sebastian leveled a glare at him. “I’m not sure you’re going to get very far with Lady Araminta even if I’d had nothing to do with it. Something tells she isn’t going to be as easy for you to win over as you might think.”
