“Yes. Given your views on marriage.”
Her aunt’s face went pink. “Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.” She glanced at the cook and the cook’s assistant and the butler, who were all watching silently but soaking in every word. “The parlor, I think, for this conversation. Dobson, please do bring tea.”
“Of course, mum.” The butler gave a tiny bow.
Aunt Elizabeth took Tildy’s arm and led her out of the fragrant kitchen, which was rather a tragedy—she hadn’t finished eating, after all—and down the long hall to the front room. “This is a conversation best had in private, I do believe,” she said.
“Of course.”
Once they were ensconced on a lovely Chippendale divan, Aunt Elizabeth pinned her with a bemused gaze. “Whatever did you hope to accomplish by running away from home?”
“Technically, I didn’t run away from home. I ran away from a betrothal.” The difference seemed fairly clear to her way of thinking.
“But darling, surely you see that would never work.”
“Of course it would.”
“Charles would find you.”
“Oh, I know that.” She shot her aunt a conspiratorial smile. “Running away was only part of the plan.”
“Only part of the plan?” A squeal. “Good glory, child. Don’t you know that running away, being unchaperoned for an entire night, is enough to ruin a girl?”
“It is?” Well, that would have been good to know ahead of time. It appeared she had overachieved her goals.
“It most certainly is. Thank God no one but Charles and I know you’ve gone missing.”
Technically, someone else knew. Tildy pressed her lips together.
Her aunt sighed and collapsed against the pillows as though the vapors had claimed her. “Tell me the rest,” she said with a flourish of her hand. “Tell me everything.”
Well, she wasn’t telling everything…
“I was going to come to you for help,” she said.
Aunt Elizabeth popped open a lid and regarded her. “Well, that’s not so bad.”
“I was certain you would be able to help me lose my virginity.”
“What?” A full-blown shriek, one so strident it caused Dobson, who had just entered with a tray, to shriek as well. “Oh dear,” Elizabeth murmured as the visibly unnerved butler set the tray on the table and, hand shaking, attempted to pour the tea. “Oh leave it,” she snapped and, with alacrity, Dobson did. He quit the room in a rush. She turned to Tildy, her expression a mix between confusion and horror. “Tell me you did not say what I thought you said.”
“You have a legion of lovers…”
“I most certainly do not.”
“Well, you’ve had several. I thought you could…lend me one.”
Honestly, Tildy had never seen a person’s eyes go quite so wide. Her nostrils, too, were enormous. At long last, after much stuttering, she managed, “One does not lend one’s virginal niece one of one’s lovers.”
“That seems terribly selfish to me,” Tildy said, pouring out the tea and adding sugar to hers. She took a sip, and Aunt Elizabeth did the same with something akin to desperation. “Besides, it hardly signifies. I’ve taken care of the problem myself.”
Tea spewed.
Aunt Elizabeth choked. She gaped at Tildy with horror in her eyes. “You did not.”
“I most certainly did.” She leaned closer. “You should have told me how wonderful it is.”
“Matilda Elaine Paddington!”
“It seems very rude to keep such pleasure to yourself.”
“Oh God! Oh Godohgodohgod! Charles is going to have apoplexy.”
“Charles should not have betrothed me against my will.”
Honestly, she didn’t understand her aunt’s dismay. Her actions had made perfect sense and, looking back, she would not have changed a thing.
“Who was it?”
Oh no. Oh no. She was not revealing that. That was her private and precious secret. “A man.”
“Well, of course it was a man. Where did you meet him?”
“On the road.”
“Oh God.” Her aunt looked ready to faint again. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”
“Oh, I do.”
“Tildy, you don’t understand. Society has rules. There are conventions.”
“I don’t give a fig for conventions.”
“Well you should.” She’d never seen witty and gay Aunt Elizabeth so stern. She’d always been carefree. Always been a rebel against society, most especially the institution of marriage. “You are ruined. Absolutely ruined. You will never find a husband now.”
“You don’t have a husband,” she felt the need to point out.
“My situation is different. I am a widow.”
“How is that different?”
“It is very different. For one thing, I paid for my freedom. I was married to a hideous old goat for five years. Suffering his attentions every night.”