Caldwell’s mouth hung open and he leaned toward Grayson as though in disbelief, when he finally closed it enough to make his jaw work, he said, “Where is she? If she has captivated you so much that you have lost all sense of composure, why were you at a ball dancing with other young ladies? No wonder you were so dissatisfied with your dance partners.”
“She is,” Grayson’s heart squeezed in his chest in a most unfamiliar way as he spoke, “betrothed to another. In fact, I believe she is to be wed in a matter of hours.” His consternation over his own behavior at the ball paled in comparison to the complete misery which engulfed him at the prospect of another man touching his Miss Heathrow. To hell with blood and lineage and his once staunchly held beliefs regarding such matters. What a cad he’d been to consider himself above anyone. He found he cared not who her parents were and thought her more charming and intelligent than any of the ladies of the ton. It occurred to him that he didn’t even know her first name, but it mattered not. She was an angel fallen from heaven above, her habit of telling fanciful stories of street gangs notwithstanding.
“Betrothed to another, you say? Then we have not a moment to lose, now do we, Grayson. Come on man, we have a bride to fight for.”
“What are you talking about, Caldwell? I told you, she is betrothed to another.”
“And so that is it, then? Have you told her of your feelings for her?”
Here Grayson nearly blushed in humiliation. “I-I have only spoken to her one time. I am sure she would be shocked to know I was even still thinking of her. In fact, I am shocked by it myself. Perhaps I ought to see a doctor. Clearly I have contracted some loathsome disease.”
“The most loathsome disease of all, my friend. You are in love.” Caldwell grabbed Grayson’s arm with one hand and another cup of tea from Perkins with his other. “We have no time to spare. We must get you cleaned up and then we are off to—” Caldwell cocked his head to the side and studied Grayson. “Where are we off to, my lord?”
“Talcott House. And we must hurry.”
“Oh, Cynny, you are the most beautiful bride I ever saw,” Rosie said as she circled slowly around her friend who was adorned in all her bridal finery.
Cynny giggled. “I am the first bride you've ever seen, Rosie,” she said, “so of course I am the most beautiful.”
“Even if I had seen one hundred brides, none could be nearly as pretty as you, Hyacinth, and well you know it.”
“Oh, do you really think so, Rosie?” Cynny asked. She was quite anxious over the fact that she would, within just a few hours, be married to Lord Kensington, a man she had never met before. Although she had great faith in Miss Wickersham’s ability to select just the right papa for each of her girls, Hyacinth could not help but feel a bit anxious. She comforted herself with the reminder that her friend Cammie had found true love with her papa, Lord Cavendish. And she had never met him before she was married either, so clearly Miss Wickersham knew what she was doing.
If that were really true, then why could Cynny not stop thinking about Lord Grayson, the man she met in the garden just a few days ago? Their encounter had been extremely brief and Cynny knew that she was inexperienced with men, and so perhaps the warm feeling in her tummy she had for Lord Grayson was simply the result of meeting an attractive man. She certainly hoped that Lord Kensington would be a handsome man as well.
Cynny realized it was ironic that she hoped for a handsome husband since she had been judged and approved of for her beauty her entire life. Very few people had bothered to get to know the girl beneath the beautiful golden curls. Cynny looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. She missed Cammie. She wished she was here with her today to share in her special moment, but also to give her advice.
The letter from Cammie still had her confused, and she thought of the most shocking tidbit from the letter and nearly gasped in her nervousness.
Your papa will have a big shaft between his legs called a cock. It will get hard when he desires you and he will thrust it inside your kitty.
Even if papas had cocks, what exactly did they look like? Shaft was too vague a description and Cynny wished Cammie had drawn her a picture.
In addition to being anxious about marrying a man she had never even spoken to before, Cynny had not yet had her meeting with Nurse Lister. Before Cammie got married she had a special examination with Nurse Lister and when Cammie returned to their shared bedroom, she had the most calm expression on her face and a mysterious smile on her lips. When Cynny asked her about it, all Cammie could say was, “You'll have to wait until it's your turn. It is too much for me to describe.”
Ever since then Cynny had been waiting for her turn with Nurse Lister in order to find out what happens between married men and women. Between a papa and his little girl. She had the letter from Cammie, but she had more questions than the letter answered. Would she be able to ask them of Nurse Lister without dying of embarrassment? For example, how on Earth would something like a big hard cock fit inside her kitty? She mostly hoped that Nurse Lister would volunteer the information so she would not be forced into the humiliating situation of being forced to ask.
As one of the oldest girls at Talcott House, she should know the answers to these questions, but she did not. Frankly until she saw the dreamy look on Cammie's face after her examination from Nurse Lister, Cynny had had no interest in what happened between papas and their little girls. But there was no denying that something very interesting had happened to Cammie and based upon her letter, those sorts of things continued to happen after marriage. Cynny had to know.
She checked her reflection in the mirror and smiled. Although her beauty had brought her much unwanted attention when she had been upon the streets, which Mary had always saved her from, now that she was to be a bride she was grateful that she had something to bring with her into the marriage. She was well aware that she had no dowry or trousseau of fine clothing, not even a family or a good reputation to bring with her. Her beauty was her only and finest gift.
And the gold pocket watch.
Her heart still fluttered when she thought about the daringness of stealing Lord Grayson's watch. She had, in her private moments, taken it out from its hiding place and caressed it in her hand, thinking about Lord Grayson’s long elegant fingers doing the same, winding the knob at the top, opening the case to check the time. She told herself she enjoyed holding the watch and looking at it because it was to be a gift for her husband. But if that was the case, why was it that she only thought about Lord Grayson in those times?
All of Cynny’s worldly possessions were stored in two large steamer trunks standing in the corner of the room, the gold pocket watch tucked safely between the layers of her infrequently worn undergarments, where Cynny felt it was least likely to be seen by anyone before she arrived at her new home and presented it to her papa.
New home. Her heart sunk as she glanced around the room she shared with Rosie and Daisy. No one had come yet to fill Cammie’s place and as far as Cynny was concerned no one ever could. She would miss the fun times that she had had here with Cammie and Rosie and Daisy.
Maybe once she was married she would have a chance to see Cammie. Cynny could hardly believe that her friend was now Lady Cavendish. What was even more surprising was that she was about to become Lady Kensington. Both of them ladies!
The sound of a carriage rolling up the lane drew Cynny, Rosie and Daisy to the window where they peeked from behind the curtains.
“Oh,” Daisy said in hushed tones, “what a beautiful carriage.” She glanced over at Cynny. “I hope Miss Wickersham finds a lord to be my papa too.”
“Hush!” Rosie said, giving Daisy a swat on the arm.