Page 84 of The Rogue’s Embrace

It was Hetty's sobbing that wakened the house. That and her cries for a stable boy to be roused to fetch Dr. Marsh.

As if he would be able to do anything.

"We can't just leave him here!"

Hetty had shrieked before Stephen had torn her away from her cousin's prone body, half carrying both her and Lady Julia, soaked and now silent with shock, towards to The Grange.

They'd done everything they could. They'd pounded his chest, Hetty had implored him as she'd shaken him, her hysteria rising, to wake up. But Edgar had gone. He was not coming back.

They stumbled up the stairs of the portico, hammering on the heavy oak front door, which miraculously opened when Stephen pushed it.

So much for security.

A flickering candle carried by a trembling housemaid was followed by a branch of candles brought by the butler, and then Humphrey, his gray hair sticking out from his nightcap, eyes bleary with sleep. Araminta appeared like a wraith by his side, the two of them staring silent, uncomprehending, at the sodden, bedraggled troupe at the bottom of the stairs before Hetty broke away from Stephen, screaming, "Edgar's by the lake. Fetch Dr. Marsh. He fell in and now he can't breathe. He wasn't under the water for long. Not so very long. Someone must summon Dr. Marsh."

It was Stephen who had the wits to soothe her while directing one of the servants to the stables. Thomas, the most trustworthy of the stable lads, was to be dispatched to fetch the doctor.

It was Stephen, also, who pushed Hetty before him toward the study, saying, "We need brandy,"

before ordering dry linen and hot drinks to be brought directly.

"Why was everybody at the lake except me?"

Araminta trailed after them, her tone suggesting affront at the implied insult to her rather than concern for Edgar, though she added as an afterthought, "I'm sure if he wasn't under for long he'll sleep it off. Dr. Marsh will do something for him. Edgar loves to gammon everyone."

Stephen pushed Hetty into a chair, saying to Araminta under his breath, "There's nothing Dr. Marsh can do for Edgar. Now see your sister drinks this."

"Sybil…?"

Humphrey followed them into the room. He looked very old with his hair disordered, wearing only his night clothes.

She turned, tensing for whatever was to come, glad to have Stephen in her sights, admiring his deft handling of the situation while reminding herself that neither through inference nor gesture must she incriminate him. She'd pay twofold for her crimes if it would protect Stephen. She had no idea how Humphrey might react to the truth.

"Yes, Humphrey?"

She did not look at him, distracted, she knew, absentmindedly covering the front of her torn nightdress with her shawl as she hovered over Hetty, who was still convulsing with sobs.

Then with a sigh, Sybil straightened and forced herself to attend to Humphrey's obvious confusion.

When she finally met his gaze, it was like looking at a stranger. Who was this man who'd sought her bed two hours earlier? Yes, he was the man who'd fathered her four children. The man she'd dutifully loved for twenty years despite knowing he did not love her. The man she'd loved until she discovered what love really was.

Unconsciously, she traced her belly with her hand. If she were with child, she'd keep Stephen's identity secret if it killed her.

If it were necessary.

Again, as Humphrey's troubled, confused countenance blurred before her, she had no idea what to expect from him. Understanding? Compassion? Gratitude, even? Or rage. Simple rage.

She sighed again and touched the cool, smooth sleeve of Humphrey's silk banyan, as if to ground him as he came closer. "Lady Julia and Edgar went to the rotunda. I don't know what happened, Humphrey. I think Edgar must have fallen out of the boat as they were returning."

They glanced at Hetty, the center of Stephen and Araminta's attention as they forced her to drink the brandy. Everyone wanted to know what had happened. Such an extraordinary accident in the middle of the night.

"You must ask Hetty, Humphrey,"

she said. "I found her by the edge of the lake, up to her knees as she tried to retrieve Edgar herself."

She lowered her voice. "She must have followed Edgar and Lady Julia there."

"And Stephen?"

Sybil flicked a glance at Stephen, glad he was still clad in evening clothes and that she was the only one dressed for sleep. It made her story as an innocent bystander more plausible. Really, she didn't care if she had to swing for all their sins, but she must for the meantime concoct a plausible account of all their actions to Humphrey.

Sybil shrugged. "No doubt he couldn't sleep. There was a lot of excitement this evening."

Humphrey stared. Distractedly, he rubbed his eyes. "Lady Julia and Edgar?"

Sybil nodded. "One can only imagine Hetty's distress. But perhaps you should ask Hetty. She'll be questioned by the magistrate, no doubt. There'll have to be an investigation. It's best if she's encouraged to tell us everything now."

They crowded round to hear her tale. Araminta sat on the sofa beside her and took her hand, stroking it, pretending sisterly solicitude, Sybil thought uncharitably. Araminta seemed more fascinated than shocked by the means of her erstwhile betrothed's death.

"You mean you saw Lady Julia following Edgar across the lawn after he'd pretended to you he was going to bed?"

She sounded outraged. "Then what happened?"

Hetty explained how she had stood at her window, vacillating between quietly retiring for the night or following Edgar and confronting him.

"I decided I had to tell him how I felt,"

she said in a small voice. "Cousin Stephen had said it would be helpful—for both of us."

Araminta made a small, strangled noise in her throat before asking, "It did not occur to you that Lady Julia's presence might prove an impediment?"

Hetty dabbed at her damp eyes with a handkerchief. "I thought Edgar was heading for the lake because he was miserable about you, Araminta, and that Lady Julia might be thinking she could console him."

She shrugged. "But then I discovered she was there to console him in other ways."

"What other ways? What else did you see?"

There was a prurient gleam in Araminta's eye.

Stephen said hastily, "I don't think Hetty wants to go into too much detail."

"Since she'll be asked by the magistrate, surely it's best she recounts it first here?"

Araminta objected. "Come, Hetty. You can tell us."

On a wail, Hetty replied, "They were on the grass outside the rotunda when I reached the edge of the lake. I could see them in the moonlight. They were kissing… More."

She shook her head. "It was horrible. I started screaming at them."

She looked scornfully at their house guest who was shivering in front of the low fire, rubbing at her sodden dress with a strip of dry linen the maid had just brought her. "But Lady Julia just laughed at me, then said to Edgar the fun was over and they should return."

Araminta squeezed her sister's arm. "So you waited, like an avenging angel, to greet them with the full force of your righteousness, only Edgar toppled into the water when he saw how angry you were."

She seemed impatient for the facts.

Hetty ignored her. Her eyes and nose were streaming as she stared at her hands. "Edgar pushed the boat from the shore and then leapt into it. It made quite some distance but he was still trying to regain his balance when it was already halfway across. Then he just simply pitched forward. He didn't even try to save himself. At least, it didn't look like it. I didn't see him again after that. Not…not until…"

Araminta put her arm about her sister's shoulders. "Edgar was obviously foxed. He'd drunk a great deal and people often simply lose consciousness when they're bosky."

Sybil wondered how she was such an authority on the matter as her elder daughter went on with a sigh. "You did everything you could, from what I can tell,"

indicating Hetty's gown, sodden to the waist. "As did Cousin Stephen."

Sybil exchanged glances with him. She was expecting to be quizzed further on her role. "Araminta, please take your sister to her room,"

she said. "Summon Mary to help her out of her wet things and into bed. I shall be up shortly."

It was a tone that brooked no objection. Araminta had only to look at her mother's face, and the expressions on the faces of her father and Stephen to know she must obey.

"Lady Julia must be helped to bed also,"

Sybil said in an undertone to the men when Araminta and Hetty had gone. "How do you propose we tackle that?"

Humphrey looked at his shaking, uncomprehending houseguest with disfavor, indecision in his tone as he asked, "Should her husband be told or do we strive for discretion? She could be dried off and put in a spare room for the night."

Sybil looked inquiringly at her husband. "What do you do when your actions are contrary to what you'd wish your nearest and dearest to be privy to, Humphrey?"

Brushing off her comment with a grunt, Humphrey leaned over Lady Julia and spoke to her in loud, clear tones. "My wife will have her lady's maid attend to you, madam. It is perhaps wise to put your unfortunate condition down to an accidental dunking in the fishpond when you missed your footing during a stroll about the garden in the moonlight with Araminta, who wished to confide in you regarding a matter pertaining to her London season."

Stephen raised one eyebrow and Sybil marveled with heavy irony, "My goodness, Humphrey, one might imagine you were in the habit of concocting Bunbury tales to cover your tracks."

She reached down and, with a brisk tug, helped Lady Julia rise. "I shall return shortly, gentlemen,"

she said from the door, one arm about Lady Julia's waist. "Hopefully Dr. Marsh will be here soon."

Lady Julia's fear was evident as Sybil led her along the corridor towards her room. "If Edgar has drowned the tale will be all over town,"

she whimpered. "What will be said of me?"

Sybil was reassuring. "We want as little scandal as you, Lady Julia. Edgar had drunk a great deal tonight and was clearly not responsible for his actions. This is not the first accident to claim a healthy young man when he's in his cups."

She returned to the others after a quick detour to her own room to change her torn nightgown and tidy herself.

Stephen and Humphrey had their heads together. They looked up at her entrance.

"Dr. Marsh is on his way, according to the stable lad, and Stephen will lead him to the lake,"

Humphrey said. "I have also reminded Stephen that in the event of Edgar's death, he reverts, once again, to being my heir."

He cleared his throat and directed Sybil an incisive look. "That is, if we have no more sons of our own."

Sybil followed Humphrey's gaze, touching her belly as horror ripped through her, but before she could order her thoughts, the sound of Dr. Marsh's carriage could be heard rolling up the driveway.

As Humphrey strode forward to open the double doors of the drawing room, which opened onto the terrace, Sybil gripped Stephen's sleeve to detain him.

"Dear God, Stephen, what have I done to you?"

she gasped, pulling him into the shadows of the heavy curtains that covered the deep window seat as Humphrey went onto the terrace speak to the doctor. "You are Humphrey's heir. Yet if you have succeeded in what I begged of you—to plant a seed in my womb—then I have blighted your future."

She was close to tears. "Forever."

Stephen put a hand on her shoulders and tilted her chin up with a forefinger. His look was grave. So much smoldered in its depths—regret, adoration…and yes, doubt. But she could see no recrimination.

"You acted for the good of the family, Sybil…darling."

Lingeringly, he trailed his finger across her collarbone. Closing his eyes on a sigh, he smiled when he looked at her again. "Only time will tell. But you mustn't blame yourself—whatever happens."

They could hear Humphrey conversing with the doctor in a low undertone just a few yards away yet Stephen took her in his arms like a lover. Although they were part hidden, Humphrey need only turn and strain his eyes to witness their forbidden embrace.

Sybil wilted against him, joy cutting through every other emotion as he declared, "If striding out there and announcing to His Lordship that I claim you for my own would bring us happiness, I'd do it."

Passion limned his whisper and in the clouded depths of his eyes Sybil saw that he meant every word. He shook his head and the pain in his voice sliced through her as he added, "But an adulterous wife can be cast off by her husband too easily. Lord knows I'd gladly have you live with me—forever—but…"

He shrugged and for the first time she saw helpless regret cloud his features. "I have nothing to offer you. No money and, if your husband were vengeful, no prospects."

Painfully, he burst out, "God, Sybil, I'd die before I hurt you."

Rapture made her giddy. He was in love with her. She swayed in his arms, reaching her hands up to pull down his face 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 house; 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 Humphrey 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."

He broke off to glance back towards the sound of voices.

The stable lads had arrived and Humphrey had broken off his discussion with the doctor in order to direct 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! Humphrey's coming."

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

"Sybil? Stephen?"

Humphrey'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, taking a step forward, he managed to sound almost casual as he replied, "Yes, my lord,"

though he still held Sybil's hand tightly. He turned back and lowered his head, his whisper the final, flimsy thread she had to cling to. "I don't believe in hopeless farewells."

He touched his chest, his heart. "This is where you will live, Sybil."

Then he broke the contact as he prepared to step out from behind the curtain to properly respond to His Lordship.

On a second thought, he turned to once more grip Sybil's shoulders with even greater urgency. "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 slid his hands down to grip her hands, pulling her with him from behind the curtain so that she blinked, dazed in the light. Exposed…

The doctor had followed the stable lads out of the room and now only Humphrey was there. He 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, resisting 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, "My lord, I am in love with Lady Partington and 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 Humphrey 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, "With all due respect, 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 Humphrey?

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, Humphrey, 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, Humphrey. 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."

Humphrey 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, then at 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. As we'd discussed this evening, a position in the Foreign Office seems not impossible. However, should it not eventuate, 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."

Humphrey 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 Humphrey was so moved to anger, but it was a necessary catharsis, Sybil believed, in an all-but intolerable situation for her husband. "Humphrey, 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."

Humphrey's mounting anger was beginning to frighten her but for once she took the initiative instead of abjectly accepting whatever he chose to mete out to her. She pushed out her bosom and said with more force than she'd managed in twenty years, "Believe me, if you choose to follow the path of a 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?"

Humphrey'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.

Stephen drew in an outraged breath and would have spoken had Humphrey 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, Humphrey's tone became almost conciliatory. "Stephen, my boy. You're young. Only twenty-five. 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 Humphrey'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 Humphrey 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, Humphrey. 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 and, gripping it tightly, 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."

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

Stephen stepped in front of him. "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 years at her side had caused him.

He glared at Stephen. "You are due to leave for London tomorrow. I've already written a letter of introduction on your behalf to my contacts in the Foreign Office."

He paused. "I had intended giving to you before you left."

Sybil stalled down her desperate disappointment. Stephen's bold gamble had not paid off. Humphrey was going to cast Stephen adrift and Sybil would spend the rest of her life torturing herself with self-recrimination. With her role in her beloved's fall from grace.

Half way across the Aubusson carpet, with Sybil's hand held tightly in his, Stephen halted, and 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 scratched his stubbled jaw. "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…"

He exhaled on a great sigh and his shoulders slumped. "You leave here with my support and prospective employment on one condition."

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

"I believed it would be a matter you'd factor into the equation, my Lord,"

Stephen muttered, staring first at the cream and gold design of the floor rug, then his benefactor's craggy face, "and fortunately it appears I was right."

Humphrey allowed himself a wry smile. "Perhaps you are a better judge of character than I thought."

He seemed to deflate on a final weary sigh. "Go to London, my boy, and make a man of yourself. You can see Sybil when she takes the girls to town to launch Hetty in two months—not before."

He held up his hand for silence as Stephen gasped, apparently about to object. "Let us see what notions of fidelity a green boy can uphold when surrounded by the temptations of the city."

He hesitated. "You may yet thank me for my goodwill in agreeing to your terms on the proviso of this cooling-off period."

Sybil's mouth dropped open. She glanced at Stephen and intercepted his expression. Where she might have seen hesitation she saw only unalloyed joy before Stephen moved forward to shake Humphrey's hand, saying, "Two months is nothing to wait if I know I retain Sybil's heart while I impatiently bide my time until I can see her again."

Sybil had never seen him smile so broadly. He turned his smile back to her. "Sybil is my angel. She will make me the best I can be. I know it."

He spoke with such fervor Sybil's heart swelled and the tears prickled behind her eyelids.

"Thank you, Humphrey,"

she said simply.

"But discretion will be paramount,"

her husband said darkly, frowning, as he broke the handshake.

"Yes, Humphrey,"

Sybil whispered, thrilling to the fact that her delight was still reflected in Stephen's smile. Humphrey had imposed conditions but Stephen clearly felt he'd won a victory.

Humphrey turned on his heel, still glowering. "And now I have the matter of my nephew's body to attend to,"

he said, acidly. "In case you'd forgotten, Dr. Marsh will soon be back and there'll be an inquest. You'll have to come back from London for that."

He looked at Stephen, whose grin broadened as he answered, "With alacrity, my Lord."

Humphrey merely harrumphed before turning his back on them. Sybil and Stephen watched as he headed toward the door to look out across the moonlit lawns.

Then his voice, soft but distinct, punctuated the almost disbelieving silence as Sybil and Stephen held each other's hands and turned to gaze in one another's eyes.

"May you have joy of her, Stephen,"

he muttered. His words floated across the few yards that separated them and as Sybil looked at her husband's green-silk-clad back she nevertheless felt a stab of remorse for failing in her impossible duty. Lord Partington shook his head as if weighed down by the past. His look was sorrowful. "It's not her fault she's brought me little enough of it…"

He sighed heavily, adding, "But perhaps she deserves what happiness you can give her."

Sybil was too used to backhanded compliments to be troubled. Being enfolded in Stephen's strong, fervent embrace before his mouth came down, hard and passionate upon hers, was compensation enough.