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Araminta meant to make good the opportunity to win over Sir Timothy once and for all. She was certain that he meant to introduce her to his influential aunt, and surely that was a sign of his regard. She had to win him over, she knew. Yet she was still fighting the dregs of guilt at being so mercenary with a man who had done her no harm. There was doubt lingering on the edges of her mind, but Araminta fought it off. The letter she had received from her sister-in-law that very morning was still painfully fresh in her mind.
    Harriet had been very careful not to write anything distressing. She had assured Minta that all was well in Fanshawe Hall, and had expressed her confidence that all would be put right somehow. She had even made an attempt to dissuade Araminta from pursuing her goal. But Araminta knew Harriet well enough to be able to read between the lines. Kind soul that she was, Harriet did not feel right that Araminta should make such a great sacrifice to help her sister-in-law, and even little Henry. Having married for love, Harriet could not imagine the alternative. But Araminta could tell that Harriet was worried. Time was running out for them, and even Harriet’s conviction that all would be well in the end could not keep creditors at bay.
    Araminta would do what she had to do. There was no other way. She had to return briefly home at the end of the following week, and this party would be her last real chance for a while to snare a suitable husband. For just a moment, she indulged herself in wondering whether the Marquis of Chestleton would be at Lady Huston’s party. He hadn’t been at the fireworks, after all. Then she chided herself for thinking of the enigmatic aristocrat. No good would come of any associations with him.
    ***
    Sir Timothy came forward to welcome Araminta and the Worthings as soon as they arrived at the party. His dark coat suited his pleasant features, and his eyes smiled down at Araminta, who smiled back softly, trying to quell her guilty conscience.
    “It’s a fine party your aunt has here, Stanton,” said Lord Worthing approvingly, looking about at the resplendent company and lavish decorations.
    “Thank you, my lord. I am very happy that you have accepted our humble invitation,” replied Sir Timothy, with a polite bow of acknowledgement. “My aunt is also very eager to make your acquaintance and, of course, that of Miss Barrington.”
    His sunny smile fell on Araminta again, and she blushed. It was a great honour to be presented to Lady Huston. Sir Timothy led them into a pretty antechamber to join the other guests who stood about chatting gaily as they awaited the dinner bell. A servant politely approached the new arrivals, asking them if they would care for any refreshments.
    Susan excused herself from the party to greet Miss Lavinia Snowe, a good friend of hers, whom she had spied across the room. Lady Worthing gave Araminta a significant look, before taking her husband by the arm and leading him to speak to Mr and Mrs Snowe, who stood near their daughter.
    “And how do you like the house, Miss Barrington?” asked Sir Timothy once they were alone amidst the crowd of guests.
    Araminta blinked in surprise and threw a cursory glance around the room.
    “I like it very well, Sir Timothy. Your aunt has a very pleasing taste in decoration.”
    The baronet nodded in satisfaction. “Yes, she certainly has. You know, Miss Barrington, my Aunt Huston has been like a mother to me since my own dear mother’s passing. They were sisters, and very close.”
    “I had not known,” said Araminta softly, unable to stop her eyes from quickly scanning the faces around her, before returning to Sir Timothy’s face. He was watching her intently now, and she could not fathom why.
    “Of course, my Aunt and Uncle Huston have no children of their own. You’ve met my uncle, have you not? He’s in the country now for his gout. I spent quite a lot of time here as a boy. Of course, it is my older