Her Gilded Prison (Daughters of Sin Book 1) by Beverley Oakley

light. “Do I disgust you so much?”
    He understood the depth of the pain he inflicted on her. She could hear it in his voice though she could no longer bring herself to look at him. He was not a bad man but in that moment she hated him, a feeling quickly tempered by sorrow. She could never truly hate Humphry, who now said, “You have never disgusted me, Sybil. Other men have complimented me on my lovely, easy-tempered wife and their admiration has always fuelled my self-disgust, for I’m not insensible to what I’ve denied you. But I cannot bring myself to regard you as other than a companionable helpmate. My affections were engaged before I met you and I find myself utterly unable to perform as a husband to any other than the woman I fell in love with. The fault is not yours. Please, Sybil, don’t cry. I can’t bear it.”
    Wearily, she lowered herself into her chair and put her forehead into her hands. “So I’m to grow old, watching Edgar drive the estate into the mire, denied love because of your loyalty to your mistress.”
    Clearly he could take no more such talk. On his way to the door, he hesitated by the back of her chair as if he might reach out and touch her. He did not but his words were thick with regret. “I’m sorry, my dear. I wish it were different. I wish you could find happiness in the position to which I condemned you.”
    She swallowed painfully. “I cannot even take a lover, though lord knows I’ve never been tempted since all I ever wanted was to be a good wife to you.”
    He hesitated on the threshold, his hand on the doorknob. “If George had not died I’d have had an heir and yes, Sybil, I’d have sanctioned a liaison that would have made you happy. It’s what you deserve and I know your loyalty prevents that, just as my loyalty is my own noose. But we cannot change the situation in which we find ourselves.” He turned the knob, adding under his breath, “God knows, I wish we could.”
    After Humphry had gone Sybil remained in the dim drawing room. Finally, like an old woman, she dragged herself out of her chair and wended her way through the corridors toward her private apartments.
    In the Long Gallery, she stopped by the casement and stared out into the darkness, her candle casting a soft glow over the red plush cushions and the heavy brocade curtains. When she stared at the row of family portraits, Humphry’s proud forebears seemed to glare their disapproval from walls that disappeared into the distance.
    What would they make of all this?
    Edgar, a simple, stupid boy was to become custodian of the small empire they had built. He would squander it all. Humphry all but acknowledged that. And Edgar would do so while breaking her youngest daughter’s heart.
    She turned at the sound of a soft footfall.
    “I did not mean to disturb you, Lady Partington.”
    “Stephen.”
    He stopped a few feet from her. “I thought you were Hetty until I got close up. I thought she needed some comfort.” He smiled. “Now I see it’s you and, if you don’t mind my saying, I think you look a little in need of comfort.”
    How commendable that he saw beyond the limits of his own disappointments. Nevertheless, she bypassed this as she tried for a flippant note. “So you thought I was Hetty until my haggard visage came into the light.”
    “I  don’t  know  why  you  disparage  yourself,  Lady  Partington.”  Frown  lines furrowed his brow. “I think you’re quite lovely.”
    “Quite lovely!” She’d not meant to exclaim it as if she wished for confirmation or to hear his words again.
    “You sound as if you are not in the habit of receiving compliments.”
    “A woman of my age no longer receives compliments, Stephen.” She put her hand to her heart, which was doing silly palpitations. “Nor did I receive them when I was younger.”
    “Lord Partington married a beautiful woman and I’ve heard him compliment his daughters. Both of them. Perhaps you misinterpret his veiled