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Could she really deny him that, when it was within her reach to fix everything?
    A new determination grew within her. She knew that she would not be doing right by Sir Timothy, or whatever other young gentleman she would eventually snare, but she had no other choice. Desperation had set her on her path, and there was no other way but to see it to its end. She thought again of her family, and firmly pushed her guilt to the back of her mind. Araminta raised her eyes off the path and smiled up at Sir Timothy. Her smile was dazzling and her eyes enchanting as they turned off the walk and returned to her aunt and uncle. She was determined to win his heart.
    ***
    The lawn was covered by picnic blankets, cushions and chairs, on which ladies and gentlemen, elegantly attired for the occasion, began taking their seats in anticipation of the firework show to come. Conversation continued unabated, and glances were periodically thrown up at the sky, as though expecting the first of the fireworks. Some chose to observe the show from their carriages, sipping champagne and nibbling on little sandwiches.
    Lord and Lady Worthing led the way to their own chairs and blanket. Lord Harris had offered his arm to Susan, and Araminta walked next to her cousin. Sir Timothy had once again offered her his arm, and she accepted with a mixture of relief and guilt.
    She had been nervous about attending the fireworks that night. She had not seen Lord Chestleton since the morning at the book store two days before, and she was wary of meeting his again. After some thought, she had concluded that he was bound to be at the fireworks, which were to be attended by most of the ton , and certainly a very fashionable event to be seen at. The marquis was known as a man of mode, and so she was certain that he would not miss the event.
    Since arriving a good three hours before, however, she had seen nothing of the odious man. Not that she had been looking for him. Not particularly. She had, however, thrown a few careful glances at the surrounding crowd, feeling that it was best to err on the side of caution. He was nowhere to be found. Not among the little groups on the lawn, nor among those seated in their carriages. As she made a round of their friends and acquaintance with her aunt, she made a point of warily scanning the faces around her. She saw no sign of him, and at the end had only to conclude that for by some chance, Chestleton was not at the Gardens.
    Araminta was aware that she ought to have felt deeply relieved that she could mingle without fear of running into him, and facing once more the turmoil that he somehow managed to awaken within her with every encounter. Yet, somehow, she also felt irritation. She wouldn’t dream of admitting it out loud, of course, yet she couldn’t help feeling disappointed at his absence.
    He must have known that she would attend. And he had caused her two days of unbearable anxiety and panic. She was sure that she could not possibly face him again without complete mortification. She had tried to think of a way to excuse herself from going, though she had to give it up in the end, knowing that her absence would disappoint both her relations and beloved friends. She had then tried to think of a way to avoid him at the party, to escape having to speak with him. It had cost her hours of sleep. Her nerves had been stretched to the brink. She had been determined to ignore him beyond a cool, impersonal greeting. She had agonised over what she would say and how she would say it. And then he had had the gall to simply not attend. It was not to be borne, she decided angrily. A most insufferable man! Had he not even the common decency to allow her to save face?
    Before she knew it, the conversation died down and the fireworks began. Araminta loved fireworks. She watched, transfixed, as the little flames shot up into the sky. Flashes of red, blue, silver and gold danced across her delicate face as she looked at the sky in wonder. Her