I rub my hands together, really hoping that I’m not making things worse. “Before we get into that, has there been anything you’ve liked doing with Richard so far? Has he kissed you yet?”
“Yes,” she answers with a shy smile. “Three times.”
“And how was it?” I ask.
She thinks about it a moment, and I’m beyond relieved that her smile stays in place. “I liked it. It was a bit wet at first, but then it was nice. The last time he kissed me, he held me close and squeezed against me while he did it, and it made my stomach feel strange, but a nice strange, if that makes sense.”
Good for you, Richard. I knew I liked you.
“It makes perfect sense,” I tell her. “What you were probably feeling then was desire and an attraction for Richard. That’s normal and healthy and a positive sign.”
Bessie nods, seeming grateful for the news.
“Some advice I would give you for tonight,” I go on to tell her. “You might mention to Richard you want him to kiss you a lot—for a good long time. It will help your body to relax,and it will help get you ready for the next steps.” I watch as her cheeks go red, no doubt remembering the “next steps” that I explained to her just a few minutes ago. “Of all the things I mentioned when I talked you through the process, was there anything that sounded interesting? Or like something you would like to try?”
Bessie pauses, her cheeks turning closer to maroon. “I suppose what you said about him touching me sounded all right. If he does it softly.”
“Wonderful. So, you should tell him that you would enjoy some soft touching. And as you both explore a bit and you find out what you like, you can tell him to do it more.”
Bessie sits back in her chair at my words. “I’m allowed to do that? My mother specifically told me to keep silent for the duration of it.”
For a second, I start to feel annoyed with Bessie’s mom, but then I remind myself that she was probably just passing on the same information that she was told for her own wedding night. In a time when nothing was more important than producing heirs, you would think that society would educate women to enjoy and crave sex as much as humanly possible. Instead, they keep cockblocking their own goal.
“I’m sure your mother did tell you that. Unfortunately, that might have been what she went through and what she was taught, but I’ve found that open communication is very important in the sexual process. If you tell Richard what you’re responding to, he’ll most likely continue to do it. A good husband will want to give you a nice experience, and I think that Richard wants to be a good husband to you.”
Bessie takes a deep breath as she absorbs all the information. “And am I allowed to touch him, too?” she asks curiously.
Get it, Bess!
“Yes,” I reply. “And just how you’re going to tell Richard what you like, you can also ask him to tell you what he likes.”
Bessie nods. “So... if he kisses me and we touch each other, will the entering part still hurt?”
I wait a moment, thinking of the best way to phrase my answer. “Honestly, it most likely will still hurt tonight, and it might continue to hurt for the first few times you and Richard are intimate. But the more comfortable you and he get with each other, the better it will be. In less than a month, I bet you’ll love it.”
“Do you love it?” she asks a few seconds later. “The bedding process?”
I let memories of Simon slip into my mind, pushing my legs together under the secrecy of my heavy gown. “Yes,” I tell her with a small smile. “I love the bedding process.”
Bessie looks astonished, but I shake my head and stand, prompting her to do the same. “Okay, this is your wedding day. We need to get out there and celebrate, and then we’re going to the after-party.”
“What’s an after-party?” she asks.
I walk toward the door, smiling at her over my shoulder as I do. “You’re going to find out...”
“What do you mean we flip the cup?” Lady Barrow asks from across the table. “The wine will splatter all over us.”
The after-party is in full swing as I’ve assembled two solid teams in my inner receiving room. It’s a bit overcrowded with Bessie’s wedding guests, even though we only invited thecourtiers we trust. We even coerced the guards into dispersing to the very outer doors in exchange for a substantial amount of wine, giving us relative freedom for the night.
“No, you drink the wine, then you flip the cup once it’s empty,” I explain. “It’s a race, and whichever team finishes first wins.”
“Do we all go at once?” Bessie asks.
“No, we go in a line. You go first and the last person is the anchor. Are we ready?”
Half the people say yes, the other half say no. Bessie, Elizabeth Norworth, and I are co-captains of our team, intermixed with other ladies-in-waiting and male courtiers. Lady Barrow and Lady Wessex are the co-captains of the opposing team. Richard is one of their number and is struggling to survive.
“Ready, set, go!” I yell.
