The Rogue's Reluctant Rose by Daphne du Bois Page A

up at the memory of his nearness and moment when she had been so sure he would kiss her. The whole episode had been so shocking, so inappropriate. The man was entirely wrong for her in every way: any liaison between them would surely bring nothing but disaster. And yet she felt undeniably drawn to him. She knew she ought to feel nothing but anger and outrage, and yet she could not completely ignore the delicious shiver that went through her as she thought of how it had felt to be carried off by the handsome lord.
    On the way to the dining room, she stopped by the nursery, where her little nephew slept in a crib that had been in the Barrington family for over three hundred years. His nurse was mending a gown while she hummed tunelessly to herself and watched over the baby. A fire crackled merrily in the nursery hearth.
    Henry had grown in her absence, she noted, remembering how tiny he had been when he was born. The doctor had pronounced him a fine, strong boy, much to everyone’s relief. Harriet’s pregnancy had not been an easy one, and they had all expected him to be born weak and sickly.
    Araminta wondered if it was her imagination, but she was sure that the baby had her brother’s nose and mouth. She felt her heart clench with love for him, as she watched the child sleep. Araminta knew that she would not let little Henry grow up penniless and without the family Seat. She would not have him disconnected from the home and the long line of family with whom she felt linked within these walls. She would do anything within her power to save them all.
    Careful not to wake the baby, she retreated from the room, thinking of Charles. Absently, she made her way into the little dining room, another symbol of how reduced their number had become. They had taken to eating in the smaller dining room soon after Charles’ passing, when neither she nor Harriet could bring themselves to dine in the overwhelming emptiness of the big dining hall, the very size of which seemed to highlight Charles’ absence.
    Harriet had arranged a pleasant supper small enough for two, though Araminta assured her that she need not have waited for her to arrive. The spoke quietly together, discussing London, and their situation. Araminta had considered leaving the conversation till morning, but she was sure that postponing the inevitable would only make it worse. She made it half-way through the main course before finally feeling ready to broach the subject.
    Her eyes darted between Harriet’s kind, pretty face and her own plate, and she kept moving the remains of a potato around her plate while she tried to find the words.
    “My dear, you look most distraught all of a sudden. What could be the matter?” Harriet asked, concerned.
    Araminta sighed and met her sister’s eyes. “I do not know how to tell you this, Harriet, for I know that I encouraged hope, where perhaps I should not have been hasty to do so. I know that we are nearly out of time before we must sell the house… Please do not think me unaware. I have done all I could these past weeks in London to save our situation, but I have not been able to secure a suitable match. I know that with the time we have left, there is little chance of a sudden rescue. I fear that I have failed you and Charles, and little Henry.”
    Listening to the younger woman speak, Harriet looked equally distraught.
    “Oh, my poor Araminta! It is I who ought to apologise. I had not realised how set you were on your success in this venture. I am sorry that you have spent all this time with such a burden, when it was never yours to bear. You are still so young. It was never expected of you to rescue us. Charles would not have wanted it that way, and neither do I, though I fear that in my panic, I may have given you a mistaken impression.” Harriet earnestly watched Araminta’s anxious face as she spoke. “You have not failed us: you have been so brave and strong, I do not see what more could have been asked of you.