“Your Grace?”
Sophia gave her a weak smile. “I was just thinking how pleased Lady Canterbell appeared.”
Ann draped some diaphanous, nearly sheer, bit of silk over her shoulders.
“Where did this come from?” Sophia would never have chosen something so…. ghastly.
“Lady Canterbell, Your Grace. I believe she wanted to surprise you.”
“She’s succeeded.” There was a great deal of lace. A great mound of it. Ribbons tied and placed in specific places to draw the eye. A spray of fabric roses fell over one shoulder.
Sophia stopped in front of the mirror, frowning. “I look ridiculous. Like the cake we were served earlier. All tiers of icing and bits of fruit.”
“I’m sure His Grace will appreciate the overall effect.” Ann bit her lip. “If not Lady Canterbell’s taste.” She cleared her throat. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but you do know what to expect, do you not?”
This is why she had chosen Ann as her maid when she turned sixteen. No nonsense and as blunt as Sophia herself. “Lady Canterbell informed me of my duty.” She turned to regard the maid. “Would you care to elaborate?”
“Would you like me to elaborate, Your Grace?”
Sophia took a seat and gestured to the chair beside her. She wasn’t even sure that Roxboro would visit her this evening given his intoxicated state. She’d merely assumed…itwastheir wedding night. Consummation was required at some point, was it not? “I would. As you can imagine, Lady Canterbell was more focused on my being obedient than anything specific.”
“The duke is,” Ann’s features took on a mildly rapturous glow. “Likely well versed in such matters. He’s quite a reputation, if you’ll forgive me for saying.”
“Yes, he’s glorious. A complete reprobate. Skilled in wickedness. But I don’t do well with obedience. I’d prefer some knowledge before…” She plucked at the silk and lace covering her. “I doubt this overly large doily is going to induce Roxboro to great heights of passion.”
Thinking of passion and Roxboro led to the contemplation of his mouth, his lips and kissing. Which, in turn, had her considering, once more, the absence of the freckle on his nose.
It was a drop of wine.
Sophia pushed aside those troubling thoughts. “Enlighten me, Ann. I insist.”
*
An hour orso later, she contemplated the bottle of wine Ann had brought up. Looked appropriate and of a decent vintage, though Sophia knew nothing about wine. Halfway through Ann’s rather informative educational discussion of physical relations, Sophia had grown flustered and tasked her maid with retrieving a bottle of…something. Brandy. Gin. Scotch. Rum. Wine. Just not ratafia which she detested. Roxboro was bound to have the best stocked sideboard in all of London and if ever she needed a drop of courage, it was tonight.
Goodness, there was so much to consider.
The first, was that under no circumstances was Sophia going to refer to Roxboro’s male anatomy as his ‘gentleman’s length’. At the mention of the term Mama used, Ann had laughed so hard she’d nearly fallen out of her chair. Nor was she going to call it a ‘shaft of delight’ or a ‘middle leg’ which had Sophia imagining a stool. Prick was fine, she supposed, although that might be more a comment on Roxboro’s personality, given the word had multiple uses.
Ann liked the word ‘cock’. Short. Succinct. Brought to mind a rooster, but it seemed the best of the lot.
According to Ann, whose descriptions were far more detailed than Mama’s, Roxboro was going to insert hiscockinto her quim—or as an alternative, Ann suggested,lady parts—and thrust vigorously. Sophia had already surmised as much, given her taste in lurid, romantic literature which alluded to such matters. Her maid assured Sophia that if the gentleman knew what he was doing, and they both agreed, given Roxboro’s reputation, it was likely he did, Sophia would be wellpleased and pleasured.
Ann’s features grew blissful as she tried to describe ‘well-pleasured’. She went on about one of the Canterbell footmen and the size of his…cock, but Sophia had heard enough to become…tingly thinking of Roxboro. So she asked for spirits. Wine. Anything.
Ann brought up not only the wine, but a tray of small sandwiches, grapes and cheese. It had been hours since Timmons had shown Sophia upstairs, yet Lord Damon’s carriage still sat outside. She’d no idea when or if Roxboro might arrive and open the closed door between their rooms. Or if he meant to dine with her.
Her stomach rumbled. She snatched a bit of cheese and popped it in her mouth. Ann had already poured the wine. Sophia brought the glass to her lips and took a large swallow, swishing it around in her mouth.
“That’s delightful,” she said as Ann declared the unpacking finished, at least for now.
“I’m so pleased, Your Grace. I know you said you’d entertain any sort of spirits but I thought wine would be best, though it took some searching to find a bottle. There was not a drop left over from the meal today. I found that.” She nodded. “Tucked away in the kitchens. I’ve no idea where the wine cellar happens to be and didn’t want to ask Timmons.”
“He’s rather somber. Reminds me of Powell,” she said of the Canterbell butler. “Did you speak to any of the other staff while preparing this lovely repast?” She popped a grape in her mouth. “Which I appreciate since I’ve no idea if the duke means us to dine together. Gossip, Ann. I want to hear it.”
“I shouldn’t, Your Grace.”
“You most certainly should.”
