Mercifully, the dance came to an end and Grayson returned Lady Cordelia to her mother, who proceeded to fawn over him in a most intrusive and unappealing manner. “Lord Grayson, you do our family great honor to show such favor for my daughter.”
Lord Grayson found himself staring into the expectant gaze of Lady Granville, the mother of Lady Cordelia. He had shown her daughter no more favor than he had any of the other young ladies with whom he had danced this evening, or any of the preceding seven, for that matter. He had no desire to give the impression of favoritism to any young lady, and most particularly not the stale air loving, Lady Cordelia. Not wishing to be overtly rude to Lady Granville, though he believed her presumptuousness warranted it, he simply bowed to the two ladies, bid them good evening and went in search of his next dance partner.
The participants in the next dance were taking their places as Lord Grayson made his way across the ballroom to his next partner, Miss Adaline Venture. In truth, he had been looking forward to partnering with her all night. Though not the daughter of a lord, Miss Venture still came from a family of distinction and had the added benefit of uncommon beauty. Golden curls surrounded her face, having escaped from the elaborate style into which her tresses had been forced. Her eyes, a lovely shade of blue, met his as he approached and a shy smile touched her lips. Whatever lingering thoughts of Lady Cordelia, if indeed there were any at all, disappeared as he took the hand of Miss Adaline.
Several people turned to gaze upon them as they moved together and Grayson overheard a whispered, “What a handsome couple they make.”
Perhaps his search was finally over. Her fingers felt warm in his, even through the gloves they both wore. A pink flush moved up her cheeks when he smiled at her. The dance began and his hopes soared with the notes of the music.
They did not speak for the first few moments of the dance. No doubt she waited for Grayson to begin the conversation and he searched his mind for just the right conversational gambit to woo the lovely Miss Adaline.
“Have you ever heard of a street gang called The Weasels?” he asked.
Miss Adaline gasped and withdrew her hand from his. He gaped at her, shocked by his own words. Had he lost his mind? What had ever provoked him to say such a thing? Not to mention his firm belief that Miss Heathrow had fabricated the entire tale of her life as a member of a street gang.
“My lord,” Miss Adaline said when she managed to gather her wits about her, “I am sure I have never heard such a shocking and offensive question in my entire life. A street gang? What reason would you have to believe I am aware of criminal activities?”
With each word her voice rose higher and the pitch of it became more shrill. She stopped dancing and another couple nearly collided with them. Her face flushed crimson and she bolted from the dance floor, causing no small amount of unwanted attention to be directed at them as he followed her.
Her mother—was there any young lady in attendance without a mother hovering nearby— stepped forward to meet her as Miss Adaline and Grayson approached. “Mama,” Miss Adaline said, “he asked me the most inappropriate question.”
Thereupon Mrs. Venture was joined by Mr. Venture, a formidable man who no doubt took a protective interest in his daughter’s welfare. “What is the meaning of this, Grayson? What have you done to upset my daughter?”
Although the people standing near were too well-behaved to stare, Grayson was certain that if they could have swiveled their ears upon their heads in order to pick up more of the conversation, they surely would have.
“Please, allow me to explain,” Grayson said, his mind reeling from his own foolishness.
“Be quick about it.” Mr. Venture, though not a young man, had the posture of one who would not hesitate to use his fists to defend his daughter’s honor. “Just because you were born with a title and my Adaline was not does not mean you may speak to her in an offensive manner.”
“No sir, absolutely not.” Grayson’s throat had gone dry and when he opened his mouth to explain himself his mind went blank, except for the sweet smile and laughter of Miss Heathrow of Talcott House.
“I-I have no excuse for what I did and I offer my sincerest apologies to you and your wife and daughter,” Lord Grayson finally managed to say.
Not waiting for a reply, he exited the building as quickly as possible. He had commitments to at least three more dance partners, but he simply could not stomach it, though the social slight was nearly inexcusable for a gentleman. Waving to his coachman, his conveyance was brought to the front of the building and Lord Grayson escaped into the night.
Once inside the carriage, he retrieved his flask and downed the remainder of its contents.
Cynny clutched the newly arrived letter from Cammie and gasped at its provocative contents, then covered her mouth and peered down in disbelief at her friend’s familiar handwriting.
Surely Cammie must be playing a trick on her.
The description provided by her best friend that told of what happened between married people sounded too fantastical to believe. Even worse, Cynny didn’t understand much of it. What in the world was a cock, also, according to her dear friend, known as a penis?
And her kitty…it was also called a cunny or a quim? Honestly, Cynny was shocked to her very core. She thought about her time on the streets and wondered if Mary hadn’t shielded her from the crudeness of some of the gang members, would she know more about what happened between husbands and wives?
In the outbuilding behind the tavern, Mary and Cynny had been lucky enough to have their own little room in a corner. Most of the gang members were children, and the few older members would often spend time in the tavern or gallivanting about town during the nighttime hours, not returning to their beds until they were so inebriated they could hardly walk.
She recalled overhearing some of the young men, in their drunken states, brag about kissing a certain woman and then taking a turn in bushy park, whatever that meant, but as soon as such conversation began, Mary would cover Cynny’s ears. Though she could never quite confirm it, she had suspected the young men were speaking of something similar to what happened between husbands and wives, but it had always confused her. Whenever she’d asked Mary to explain, the older girl had shushed her.
She tucked Cammie’s letter into her pocket, next to the gold watch, and sank down on her bed. Miss Wickersham had confirmed that Lord Kensington was still coming to marry her. Her heart pounded. The wedding was imminent—tomorrow morning, in fact—and she still didn’t understand what happened between husbands and wives. To think that husbands had something big between their legs called a cock that got hard when they took their wives to bed…well, it simply sounded ridiculous. Especially the part about the hard cock going inside the wife’s kitty. Or cunny.
Oh dear. Perhaps Cynny should have been patient and waited for Lord Kensington to teach her all she needed to know. He would be her papa soon, after all, and it was a papa’s job to care for and guide his little girl in all things.
Another thought struck her. What if Cammie’s new papa, Lord Cavendish, was some sort of scoundrel and was subjecting her to serious improprieties that weren’t the norm in polite society? Cynny sighed and put her face in her hands, trying to decide what she should do. She’d already asked Daisy and Rosie if they had any idea what happened between married people, and both of them had pleaded innocence.
Cynny swallowed hard and looked over at her finished wedding gown spread out on a large trunk at the foot of her bed. It was a beautiful cream colored dress trimmed with lace, a bit girlish in style but still quite lovely. Her heart commenced pounding and the strange pulsing she’d been experiencing more and more lately between her thighs started up again. She pressed her legs together, reveling in the slight relief this gave her, and began squirming on the bed.