“You can cover your ears if it becomes too much,” Esme said with a little wink. “Now, Clarissa, I suppose the physicality of whatyour mother told you is correct. Technically a man will put his cock?—”
“Esme!” Marianne seemed horrified at the word, which made Clarissa blush even hotter.
“What? That’s what it’s called.Youlearned it, she should know it, too.”
Marianne glared at her sister-in-law but it seemed to be playful. “One should never tell you secrets. Go ahead, though. You cannot be stopped, I know.”
“A cock,” Clarissa said weakly. “That’s what he calls his member.”
Esme nodded. “Yes. He’ll put that inside of you and yes, he’ll—” She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. “Move around, as she put it. And eventually he’ll spend, which is what she meant when she said it would be over. The result of that could be a child. But other than the technicalities, your mother is full of shite. Horse shite, to be more specific.”
Despite herself, Clarissa laughed. Then she covered her mouth. “Oh, I shouldn’t laugh at that.”
Marianne put an arm around her. “In this instance, you are safe to do so. You’re amongst friends. You needn’t worry about our impressions or reactions.”
“I actually like you more for laughing,” Esme said. “If that helps.”
Clarissa drew a long breath. “Very well, tell me where she has it wrong. If it isn’t the horror that she described, whatisit like?”
“Do you understand what a rake is known for?” Marianne asked.
“I suppose for behaving wildly. For being linked to women, many women.” She shivered at that thought.
“Yes. And the reason he can connect with all those women is because he is very good at, er, relations,” Marianne said gently. “Women wouldn’t fall into his arms if he were so rote and unfeeling about his partners. I obviously don’t know Lord Kirkwood beyond his friendship with my brother and my husband. But if he is anything like them, if he earned his reputation as they both did, one would assumehe also has skill. That he would take care with a partner and ensure her pleasure before he thought of his own.”
“Her pleasure would be part of his pleasure,” Esme murmured, and there was a light that came into her face when she said it. “It is intoxicating, really.”
Clarissa squeezed her eyes shut. Her mind was being bombarded with all kinds of opposing thoughts. Reminders that ladies did not speak of such things, images of Roderick’s handsome face close to hers before he kissed her. She felt caged now, trapped by everything she didn’t know, everything she thought she knew, everything she wanted and hated herself for.
“Will you truly not judge me?” she asked, hardly able to get her voice above a whisper.
“Never in your lifetime or ours,” Esme replied instantly. There was a kindness to her gentle tone. Something that said she had endured and now held strength and understanding for anyone who needed it. Clarissa clung to that strength with all her might.
“He…Roderick…Kirkwood…kissed me in the library,” she said slowly, for she hadn’t told anyone this truth yet. “Thatwas why we were forced to marry. We were caught by my parents and our vicar and they insisted there must be a reckoning.”
Marianne shook her head. “I wondered.”
“And even though there were so many terrible consequences for it, when he kissed me I-I liked it. I felt things. Like I was warm all over, like I tingled in places that made me blush.”
“Thatis desire, my dear,” Esme said, and smiled softly. “When Kirkwood touches you on your wedding night, when he readies you for the parts your mother so inadequately described, you’ll feel that desire grow. Multiply. And then all you’ll want is for him to do more.”
Marianne nodded. “It’s true. Yes, there’s a little nervousness about doing something that feels so strange, something we women have been trained to fear and avoid. But it can be wonderful. Something that bonds you together, something you’ll find yourself cravingwhenever you look at him and see that certain gleam in his eye. Passion is something I think every woman should experience.”
Clarissa’s body flexed at that idea, almost against her will. Again, she was torn between two seemingly opposing truths: that she should shun such things, but that she could want them. Should want them.
“Says the former very innocent wallflower,” Esme teased gently, and startled Clarissa from her thoughts with those words. “So you know she’s right.”
Clarissa smiled at them. “You have made me feel better. I hope your version of my wedding night and any night beyond it will be the true one.”
Marianne nodded. “As do I. I recommend, though, that you speak to him about how you feel. I’m sure he’ll guess you’re nervous, but the more you communicate, the easier the entire thing will be.”
Though that made perfect sense, Clarissa shifted. Talk to Roderick about all this? That seemed impossible. He was just too…too big and certain and…and male. They were still on shifting sands, even though they had declared they could be friends. Discussing something so intimate with someone barely more than a stranger felt wrong somehow. A breaking of those rules that pressed down on her at present.
“I’ll try,” she promised, and then shook her head. “We shouldn’t talk about this anymore. You’ve been so kind already. But why don’t we just pretend that I’m not getting married tomorrow and we’re just friends gathered to talk about normal things? Tell me some gossip, hopefully not about myself, or inform me where to buy the best hats. Anything but this.”
Esme laughed. “I think we can do that.”
“Absolutely,” Marianne agreed, and then the two of them launched into conversations meant to distract and soothe her.
