by Lauren Royal
Violet laughed. “No, we’re not scandalized. As a matter of fact, Mum always advised us to kiss a man before assenting to marriage. After all, it’s a lifetime commitment, so it’s a good idea to assure you’re compatible in that area.”
“Oh,” was all Judith said.
In fact, Lily thought she looked a mite disappointed they didn’t think her a fallen woman.
“I’m so glad you’re happy,” she told her. “I imagine that now you’re really looking forward to your wedding.”
“Oh, yes,” Judith breathed.
Lily wished she had her own wedding to look forward to instead of dreading Rand and Margery’s. Five days now. While she was thrilled for Judith, for some reason her friend’s newfound happiness made her own situation seem that much more miserable.
Judith handed her a nun’s biscuit. “Have you kissed Rand?”
Biting into the sweet almond and lemon treat, Lily nodded and left it at that.
“She’s done much more than kiss him,” Rose said, waggling her brows.
Feeling her face flood with color, Lily gasped. In Oxford, Rose had promised not to tell. She glared at her sister. “You have no reason to believe such a thing.”
Rose’s dark eyes widened as she got the message. “Gemini, I was only jesting.”
Lily brushed sugary crumbs off her skirts while she thought of a way to quickly change the subject. “Remember that song I was practicing for Rand? The one he’s always humming?”
“What of it?”
“It has naughty words. And he knows others, too. He has a whole book of them.”
“A book?” Rose licked her lips. “Did you read them all? Or play them?”
“Only a couple that Rand remembered. The book is in Oxford.”
Rose looked very disappointed.
“Could you mean An Antidote Against Melancholy?” Violet reached for a strawberry. “Ford has that book.”
“In your library?”
“No, upstairs, mixed in with all of his dusty science tomes and various books from when he attended university. I’ve looked through that songbook—it is very naughty,” she added with a grin.
Lily sipped her wine. “How funny that he and Rand would have the same book.”
“Perhaps it was required reading at Oxford,” Judith quipped, eliciting titters from Lily’s sisters.
“Let’s send for it,” Rose suggested. The glitter in her eyes belied her solemn tone. “It sounds educational.”
Violet laughed but scribbled a note to Ford. They sent a footman to deliver it and instructed him to wait and bring the book back. “Now,” she said, “while we wait, we must solve the problem at hand.”
Lily went over the whole story again, all the depressing details. Then they tossed around ideas. But every solution proposed, no matter how promising at first, turned out to be flawed, impossible, or downright ludicrous.
As it appeared more and more that Lily’s situation was hopeless, the suggestions became fewer and farther between, until an hour later they finally fell into a heavy silence.
Violet slipped off her spectacles and polished them on her skirts. “Egad, we’re a woebegone bunch. This is supposed to be a party. We’ll discuss this again later, but for now, let’s see if the songbook has arrived.”
Soon they were in the drawing room, giggling, the book propped up on the harpsichord where they could all see the words while Lily read the music.
“Play this one, Lily,” Rose said, her dark eyes wide. She began singing.
“Let her face be fair,
And her breasts be bare,
And a voice let her have that can warble;
Let her belly be soft—but to mount me aloft,
Let her bounding buttocks be marble!”
They’d brought the wine with them, and Judith gulped hers, looking shocked. “I cannot believe men sing songs like that!”
Amusement twitched Violet’s lips. “Oh, women sing songs like that, too.”
“They don’t,” Judith said.
“They do.” Violet reached over Lily’s shoulder to flip some pages, then stepped back. “‘The Nurse’s Song.’ Play this one, dear sister.” She sang along with Rose.
“My dear cockadoodle,
My jewel, my joy,
My darling, my honey,
My pretty sweet boy!
To make thee grow quickly
I’ll do what I can:
I’ll feed thee, I’ll stroke thee,
I’ll make thee a man.”
The Ashcroft sisters laughed, but Judith gulped more wine. “I don’t understand. To make thee grow quickly?”
“It’s the man’s yard the song speaks of,” Rose said.
“His yard?” If anything, Judith looked even more confused.
Rose waved a hand. “The man’s…you know.”
For all her forthrightness, Lily thought, Rose was still innocent.
“I vow and swear,” Rose continued, “you must read Aristotle’s Masterpiece before you get married.”
Now Judith gasped. Although she knew the Ashcroft sisters had all read it, the book was considered scandalous. A desperate look in her eyes, she turned to Violet. “You’re married. Tell me.”
Lily was relieved that she wasn’t the one asked to explain.
While a pink-cheeked Judith learned the facts from Violet, Rose flipped pages in the book. “Here’s another one for women to sing,” she said when Violet was finished. “‘A Tenement to Let.’”
Lily set the book back up on the harpsichord and began to play.
“I have a tenement to let,
I hope will please you all—
And if you’d know the name of it,
’Tis calléd Cunny Hall
“The place is very dark by night
And so it is by day:
But when you once are entered in,
You cannot lose your way.
“And when you’re in, go boldly on,
As far as e’er you can:
And if you reach to the house-top
You’ll be where ne’er was a man!”
Even Judith understood that one, as her rapidly reddening cheeks proved. While Rose started turning pages again, Judith sipped more wine. “‘Tom Tinker,’” she said, staying Rose’s hand. “That one sounds good.”
“Innocent, you mean?” Violet’s brown eyes sparkled behind her spectacles. “I can promise you, it isn’t.”
This time, they all sang together.
“Tom Tinker’s my true-love, and I am his dear,
and I will go with him, his toolkit to bear.
He calls me his jewel, his delicate duck,
And then he will take up my chemise to—”
“That’s ever so—” Judith interrupted loudly, then seemed unable to continue.
Lily stopped playing and looked up into her friend’s bright red face. “What’s your problem this time, Judith?” Despite everything, she was beginning to have fun. Perhaps it was the wine. Or the companionship. Or perhaps one could be woebegone, as Violet had put it, for only so long before needing to forget for a spell—even if only a very short one. “That’s ever so what?”
“That word there that’s missing—the one that rhymes with ‘duck.’ Why, I do believe…” Judith trailed off, her face turning even redder.
“Yes,” Violet said dryly. “The word begins with f and we all know what it is now, don’t we? But the point, dear Judith, is that it is missing. See here, the last printed word is ‘to,’ and after that comes the chorus.”
Judith gulped more wine, clearly getting a little tipsy. “You said that so matter-of-factly,” she observed, admiration lacing her voice. “You’re so practical and calm, even discussing…”
“Lovemaking?” Rose finished for her with a grin. “That comes of being an old married lady.”
“I am not old!” Violet protested, reaching to shove Rose’s shoulder. But Rose just laughed and launched into the chorus. The others joined, even Lily, even though s
he couldn’t carry a tune. Tonight that didn’t seem to matter.
“This way, that way, which way you will,
I am sure I say nothing that you can take ill!”
“See?” Violet said while Lily continued playing. “We’re all proper ladies, aren’t we? We’d never say a word that could be taken ill!”
Amid laughter, they kept singing.
“Tom Tinker I say was a jolly stout lad,
He tickled young Nancy and made her stark mad
To play a new game with him on the grass,
By reason she knew that he had a good—”
“Ass!” Judith crowed, filling in the word they all thought even though it wasn’t meant to be sung.
“This way, that way, which way you will,
I am sure I say nothing…”
FIFTY-FIVE
“…THAT YOU can take ill!” Chrystabel sang under her breath.
Stretched out beside her on their bed, Joseph couldn’t hear the words filtering through the thick stone walls. “What’s that, Chrysanthemum?”
“Nothing, darling. I was just talking to myself.” She sipped from her goblet of wine. “I’m so happy that Lily is enjoying herself.”
He drank with one hand while inching his other fingers beneath her night rail. “What are they singing?”
“Oh, I cannot make out the tunes.” He’d die if he knew. Joseph liked to think his daughters were much too ladylike for bawdy fun, and she wouldn’t be the one to disabuse him of the notion. “I’m sure the others are just trying to cheer Lily up. And doing an excellent job, from the sound of it.”
She stifled a laugh as she heard them rhyme five with the supposed-to-be-unspoken swive, and then launch into “This way, that way” again. “It was good of Rose to plan the sleeping party. Thoughtful, don’t you think?”
Setting down his empty goblet, Joseph nodded. “Perhaps Rose has finally grown up.”
“Perhaps she has.” Chrystabel finished her own wine and sighed. “Our children are all growing up.”
“Too fast,” he agreed. His hand on her body stilled as his green eyes turned troubled. He hesitated. “About Lily—”
“I’m concerned, yes. Worried sick, truth be told. Should Rand not find a way out of this, Lily will be left devastated.”
“And perhaps with child,” he added in a rush.
“Oh, Lily isn’t with child.” Turning to face him, she reached to caress one whisker-roughened cheek. “I suppose I should have told you, but it never occurred to me that you would worry.” She always expected him to be oblivious to such things, like other men. But sometimes he surprised her. And he did love his children very much.
That was only one of the many reasons she loved him so very much.
“You’re still convinced they haven’t shared a bed?” He frowned. “How do you know? A mother’s intuition? Because I’ve told you before, my love, you cannot tell these things just by looking—”
She laughed, a sound of amusement mixed with relief. “I know because Lily’s maid told me her courses are upon her.”
“Oh.” He reddened, as he usually did when confronted by womanly things. But she felt his body relax into the mattress.
“I do think, though,” she continued, “that perhaps it isn’t such a good idea, after all, to allow young people such privacy. No matter how perfect they are for each other. If things had gone differently, we might have had a disaster on our hands. I…well, in plotting the best way to match Lily and Rand, I think in this one matter I may have been wrong.”
“Wrong? You were wrong?” His mouth dropped open.
Before he had a chance to close it and elaborate on her innocent miscalculation, she rushed to cover it with a kiss.
To her vast relief—and delight—nothing more was said that night.
FIFTY-SIX
HALFWAY TO Oxford, rain had begun falling, turning the roads to mush and Rand’s journey to a snail-paced nightmare. He’d arrived home and trudged through the empty house to the one furnished room, his bedchamber, where he’d promptly fallen into bed and passed a restless night.
Morning found him in a foul mood. Another day gone and no closer to finding a solution. He scrubbed up and pulled on some clothes, then opened his door, intending to inspect the house.
A measuring tape in one hand, Kit stopped and turned. “Rand. When did you get home?”
“Last night. Late.” Rand rubbed his aching head. “How is the job progressing?”
“Haven’t you noticed? It’s all but done.”
“Is it?” He followed Kit along the corridor, peeking into beautifully finished rooms. “My apologies. You’ve worked wonders.”
“I’ve been here since you left. Amazing how a few days onsite will motivate craftsmen to work.” He grinned, then suddenly frowned. “Hey, Rand, you’re going to break your teeth.”
Rand consciously relaxed his jaw, which had been clenched to the point of pain.
“What’s got your dander up?” Kit asked.
“The mental image of my father at Hawkridge, planning a wedding for five days hence.”
“I thought you wanted to get married.”
“To Lily, not Margery Maybanks.”
“Margery?” Kit’s green-brown eyes widened. “Margery! Why the hell would he want you to marry Margery?”
Rand sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“Best told over a tankard of ale, I’d guess. Come along. It’s a bit early yet, but the King’s Arms is always open.”
“CHIN UP, DEAR,” Lily’s father bellowed across the table.
“You cannot give up hope,” Chrystabel added more gently, pointedly handing Lily a spoon. “There must be something that can be done.”
“Rand. Rand will have to come up with something.” Unable to eat, Lily pushed her dinner around on her plate and sighed.
Rand was her only hope.
The lighthearted camaraderie of last night was gone. In the wee hours of the morning, the young women had all giggled their way upstairs to share Lily’s big bed. It had been a tight fit with four instead of three, but worth it for the comfort she’d felt, surrounded by people who cared.
Today she could find no comfort. They’d awakened too late for breakfast and spent most of dinner revisiting all their useless suggestions, reviewing them with Father and Mum. No one had any new ideas to contribute, and Lily’s predicament seemed more hopeless than ever.
“Violet? Are you ready to come home?” They all looked over to see Ford had appeared in the doorway. “Did you have a fine time?”
Violet gave him a wan smile. “We did last night.” She pushed back her chair and rose. “While I go get my things, Lily will fill you in on what’s happened. Perhaps you’ll see a solution we haven’t.”
But brilliant as Ford was, he had no solution to offer, either. No new plan to change Lord Hawkridge’s mind.
They would have to prove Bennett’s innocence.
“Maybe one of the other hunters witnessed it,” he suggested. “Or someone else. Just because no one’s come forward—”
“Rand is planning to interview everyone in the vicinity.” Lily bit her lip. “But I’m afraid if anyone knew anything, they’d have come forward long before now.”
Ford looked thoughtful. “Not if they were afraid of facing the marquess’s wrath. He clearly doesn’t want to hear his son was at fault.”
“That’s true,” she said, reluctant to succumb to the thread of hope that suddenly tugged at her heart. “A different way to look at this. He did, after all, offer an enormous reward for information that would prove Lord Armstrong guilty. Perhaps people are reluctant to approach him with anything that would prove the opposite.”
Her father nodded sagely. “It’s wise to keep on top of it.”
Judith reached for more bread. “She said ‘the opposite,’ Lord Trentingham. Someone could be frightened to bring Lord Hawkridge evidence that proves the opposite.”
“Eh?”
Evidently giving up
, Judith slathered butter on the bread. “You must trust Rand, then,” she told Lily, taking a big bite. The solemn atmosphere had failed to curb her appetite. “You love him, and you have to believe he’ll find proof.”
Yes, Rand had promised they would find a way. After giving Judith a shaky smile, Lily turned to Ford. “Thank you. You’ve given me hope.”
“It was nothing. Just another way to look at a solution that had already been offered—nothing has changed.”
While that was true, Lily was holding as tight as she could to that thin thread of hope. For the first time since she’d awakened this morning, she felt able to breathe.
Violet returned, her satchel in one hand and An Antidote Against Melancholy in the other. “I’m ready.”
“Why did you want that book?” Ford asked.
As her gaze flicked to their parents, Violet flushed a delicate pink. “Oh, I just thought it might help Lily.” She took his arm. “Come along. I cannot wait to see Nicky and the twins.”
“What’s the book called?” Chrystabel asked.
Having failed to escape, Violet forced a smile. “An Antidote Against Melancholy. Lily was feeling a bit melancholy last night, you see, and—”
“Oh, then would you mind leaving it here? I expect she may feel a bit melancholy again the next few days.”
“We already read the whole thing,” Violet said, clutching the book possessively.
“Well, then.” Mum was nothing if not persistent. “Leave it here for me. I adore helping people, as you know, and it seems to me I could learn a lot from a book called An Antidote Against Melancholy.”
Lily suspected Mum would learn more than she anticipated. In specific, she’d learn her daughters weren’t quite the innocents she imagined. And if she could judge by her sister’s face, Violet was thinking much the same.
Looking amused, Ford pried the book from his wife’s hands and set it on the table. “Here,” he told his motherin-law with a grin that would do the devil proud. “I hope you and Lord Trentingham will enjoy it.”
As Chrystabel smiled and reached for it, he hustled Violet from the room, laughingly ignoring her protests.
“Come upstairs, Joseph,” Chrystabel purred in her husband’s ear. “We can read this educational book together.”