Page 3 of The Lyon Rampant

Chapter Two

“You want to remain another week at the townhouse?” Araminta, the new Countess of Aylsham, rested her hands on her swollen stomach and subjected her younger sister to a knowing stare. “I can’t allow that. You know Roland is here most of the time, and it would be most improper.”

Belinda resisted the urge to sniff. How hypocritical of Minty to speak of impropriety! But there was no point in engaging in battle, or she’d never get what she wanted.

“Oh, no. How could you possibly think anything like that? We are like brother and sister. Anyway, I wasn’t planning on staying here alone. I intend to be chaperoned by Caroline. I know she’s only twenty-two—a little young to be a chaperone—but her character is exemplary.” She crossed her fingers, her hand hidden in the skirts of her gown. Miss Caroline Brent was going to be her chaperone, only the lady didn’t know it yet. They’d become great friends when Belinda had been helping her at the Lady Aylsham Foundling Hospital. When the establishment had moved out to Forty Court, Miss Brent had stayed in London with her parents and remained in touch with Belinda, joining her for tea whenever the Aylshams were at their townhouse. She’d agree, surely? Spending a few days in each other’s company would be delightful, although what Caroline would find to do while Belinda was occupied in the kitchens at the Lyon’s Den, she wasn’t sure. She’d be sure to pay Caroline back, once everything was settled.

Araminta raised an eyebrow. “Why would you want to stay behind when I’m returning to Forty Court? Won’t you be terribly dull? Aren’t you missing the orphans? Besides—what if my time comes and I need you?”

“You can send for me. But you don’t need me, sister. I’m no use to anyone, as you know. I’m scatterbrained, useless in company, and lacking creative or organizational skills. The only thing I do well is make soups and stews, and you have a kitchen full of staff to do that for you.”

“My darling girl, how can you say that? You’re capable of many things, or you will be when you have the opportunity. You’ve been through a difficult time—we both have—but those days are over and we can now look forward to a sunnier future. I have no doubt that as soon as you turn your hand to anything—in addition to looking after small children and making broth—you’ll become expert in no time. You don’t lack wit. When you had your, um, difficulties, you were so very young and inexperienced. Thanks to the excesses of my late husband, I was unable to take care of you as I should, for which I still feel guilty.”

“But I’m improving, am I not?”

“Yes, indeed you are! Unless you’re hiding things from me, I’m not aware of you getting hysterical or having an attack of nerves for months. You really are feeling better, aren’t you, dearest?”

“Of course, I am. Leo and Roland are splendid gentlemen and a delight to have as family. Having the security of a roof over our heads is invaluable, and as you know, I love working with the children at the orphanage.”

“Then return to Forty Court with me.”

Curse Minty—she’d talked to her into a corner!

Belinda tried to look coy. “There’s something I wish to do while I’m here and you’re not.”

Her sister would burst like a bubble on a pin if she knew what it was Belinda was actually going to be doing. Or rather, where she was going to be doing it. But she hoped, by pressing her lips together and fluttering her eyelashes, she could convey the idea that she was planning a pleasant surprise. The new baby would need clothes: knitted shawls, an embroidered christening gown, night clothes and so on. Belinda’s sewing was not the best, but Miss Caroline Brent was known to be an excellent seamstress. Let Minty think the plan was to hole up with Caroline to produce a wonderful wardrobe for the new baby.

The bait was taken. Araminta stood, pushed her hands into the small of her back, and made a slow circuit of the room. “I suppose I can spare you for a week or so. But make sure Roland conveys you personally to Forty Court when you’re ready. I don’t want you gallivanting around the countryside in stagecoaches or traveling post. I know it’s only a short journey, but we’re all very respectable now, and must keep up appearances.”

Irksome, but true. Belinda had so narrowly avoided scandal already in her young life that she knew all about respectability and Keeping Up Appearances. There was always a chance that somebody would uncover the murky secrets of her past, but if they did, and taxed her with them, she would brazen it out. Gossip was cruel and damaging; reputations were both lost and won far too easily, and Society was hypocritical and unfair. Men, it seemed, could get away with anything. Women, however, could not.

“Belinda. Forgive me—I didn’t mean to remind you. Changing the subject, I have a question for you. Do you know why Roland has been lurking around the house with a face like a slapped haddock? He’s more likely to confess his problems to you than he is to either myself or Leo.”

Had Roland not told them of his expulsion from his favorite gambling hell, the Lyon’s Den? Then it wasn’t her place to reveal his secret when he’d been so good at keeping hers.

“I’m not sure. Perhaps he’s lost at the gaming tables. Or maybe he’s been unlucky in love?”

Araminta paused by the drawing room window and glanced onto the street below. “Here he comes now. We can ask him directly.”

Belinda’s heart pounded in her chest. She hadn’t told Roland of her latest plan yet, and he didn’t know about her arrangement with Mrs. Dove-Lyon. If she wasn’t careful, everything could be ruined before it even began. She bit her lip.

She heard a cane being slapped down on a table, followed by the slow tread of footsteps on the stairs. When Roland entered the room, he bowed to both ladies, flung himself into a chair, and started fidgeting with his pocket watch.

“Good afternoon, Roland. Shall I call for tea?” Araminta tugged on the bell pull.

“I suppose it’s about time.” He ran a hand through his unruly locks and huffed out a sigh.

Belinda’s panic gave way to guilt, so she sat beside him and took his hand. While Araminta was distracted by the maid’s arrival, she whispered, “Don’t say anything of any importance—be led by me. I have a scheme to have you reinstated at the Lyon’s Den.”

His expression of surprise was followed by a disarming grin. “Good girl,” he whispered back, patting her hand. By the time tea arrived and was served, his usual good humor was restored.

Araminta regarded him over the rim of her teacup. “Are you feeling well, my dear? I was afraid you’d been under the weather.”

Roland shot Belinda a sideways glance. She nodded, praying Araminta wouldn’t notice.

“I have a little, but this tea is reviving me wonderfully.” He paused, gazed round the room, then added, “I was a little gloomy knowing that you’re all leaving for Forty Court.”

“I’d have thought a young man like yourself would have enjoyed being out from under his older brother’s thumb. But no—your freedom will be curtailed anyway, as you’ll be joining the redoubtable Miss Brent in the task of escorting Belinda about town.”