The Mysterious Governess (Daughters of Sin Book 3) by Beverley Oakley Page B

in aping your betters, then? What do you know of how those in high society conduct themselves? You’re just a governess.” At first Araminta was annoyed by the young woman’s self-composed response, before realizing that if she did indeed succeed in utilizing Miss Hazlett, such self-confidence was just what was needed.
    “Wearing your dress enabled me to imagine I was you.” Miss Hazlett paused, her green eyes—certainly not the striking color of Araminta’s—going cloudy. “Though I don’t know why you were so amenable to the idea when you should despise me. I was certain you’d send me away with a flea in my ear.”
    Araminta frowned, not wanting to understand her. “Why should I despise you?”
    The girl looked surprised. “Surely you’re not going to deny that you know. Why, we share the same father, of course. I’d thought you’d hate me for it. I do you , after all.”
    Araminta’s mouth dropped open. She’d not wanted to hear the girl put it into words. She gasped and stepped back as if Miss Hazlett had physically assaulted her. “How dare you?” she managed. Her tongue felt swollen and her heart beat erratically as she stared at...this baseborn imposter.
    “Surely you knew?” The girl looked momentarily abashed before she raised her chin proudly. “Don’t pretend to have a fit of the vapors. You cannot have misunderstood my reasons for contacting you.”
    With difficulty, Araminta regulated her breathing. How clearly she remembered the young woman’s visit to The Grange all those months ago, on the pretext of requesting funds for the village school. Her father, she recalled, had acted most strangely as he’d sent Miss Hazlett into the room where the servants were generally required to wait.
    So this, indeed, was her father’s bastard standing right before her. Larissa Hazlett was the daughter of Mrs. Hazlett in the village, whose horse Araminta had insisted her father buy for her, despite knowing how much it would upset her mother, for even then, deep down, Araminta had known the truth. Lissa was the girl who’d sat in church with her fellow base-born siblings—her father’s bastards— in a pew behind the first family of the district, Lord Partington’s wife, Lady Sybil, and his daughters, Hetty and Araminta. Even yesterday, when Araminta had spoken to the girl, she’d pretended ignorance. But she had known. Yes, she had known.
    Indignation and anger were followed by a great sense of superiority. This poor, stained creature before her could never compete with Araminta, no matter how beautiful she was. They might share a father but Miss Hazlett was a bastard, and a bastard could never rise in the world.
    Fortunately, Araminta was as adept as the young woman before her at keeping her wits in check. It would be best not to gloat if she wanted the girl to be useful to her, which she certainly did. “So, telling me you hated me and that I should lend you my gowns whenever you want something in the first stare was your reason for wanting to meet me? I must say, this is all rather a shock.”
    Her half-sister—she choked on the term—was gazing anxiously at her as she obviously decided to alter her approach. Oh, Araminta could sense her insincerity a mile away as she said demurely, “I am sorry I said that. However I’m truly grateful that you saw fit to allow me to wear your dress for an afternoon. Besides, I’ve always wondered...about you.”
    “Have you indeed? But let’s return to this important gentleman you were required to sketch. Have you told me everything? You look like the sort who would keep secrets.” Araminta decided she could dismiss the threat she’d originally feared that Miss Hazlett might pose. With no social status, Miss Hazlett could never be a likely prospect for any gentleman upon whom Araminta set her sights. Certainly not anyone in Sir Aubrey or Lord Debenham’s league.
    In the meantime, there was this unexpected foray into subterfuge to enjoy. Life could