OH!
March 27, 1839, Norwick House parlor
The argument could be heard throughout the entirety of the Earl of Norwick’s Mayfair townhouse. Two young women, frequently at odds, were at it again, each putting voice to some opinion that was the opposite of the other. The rainstorm occurring outside didn’t drown their incessant shouts. Rather, the occasional crack of thunder punctuated them.
From the threshold of the parlor in which the argument was taking place, Clarinda, Countess of Norwick, regarded her identical twin daughters with a look of resignation. She did that often given their propensity to vex her.
At least she could tell them apart—most could not. Dahlia Davida bore a slight scar on her neck from when her sister had scratched her, and Diana Dorothea, who preferred to be called Danielle because the man she knew as her father was named Daniel, tended to hold her left hand in a fist as if she needed to punch someone.
“Whatever has you two arguingnow?” Clarinda asked as her own fists went to her hips. She decided she needed to appear more determined.
More battle-ready.
Girls were trouble.
Twin girls were double the trouble.
Dealing with double the trouble meant girding her loins.
Dahlia and Danielle turned to face her, immediately silenced upon seeing their mother’s stance.
“Something important, Mother,” Dahlia replied.
“Terribly important,” Danielle agreed.
Clarinda blinked. Well, they apparently agreed on something. “Out with it.”
“It’s about making love,” Dahlia stated.
“What’s involved, exactly,” Danielle added. “I’m quite sure I know, but Davy seems to think otherwise.” She directed a glare in Dahlia’s direction. “She claims she read all about it in one of Father’s books.”
“I didn’t justreadabout it,” Dahlia argued. “I examined all the color plates. They were quite instructive.”
Clarinda blinked. So much for battle.
Glancing toward the sideboard, Clarinda had a thought to pour herself a glass of brandy before she dared attempt to answer the girls. Instead, she motioned the twins to take seats near the fireplace and rang for tea.
Perhaps she would merely add some brandy after the maid brought the tea service.
“First, I must ask why you’re even discussing this,” Clarinda said as she moved to her favorite floral upholstered chair. “Has one of you accepted an offer of marriage without telling me?”
The twins shook their heads in unison. “If lovemaking involves bending over a library table with my naked bum pressed against some man’s bare frontside, then I shall insist Father give me my dowry so I can go on a permanent holiday to Italy,” Danielle announced. “I’ll have none of that.”
Having bent over all manner of furnishings over the years with her naked bum pressed into Daniel Fitzwilliam’s groin—she was quite sure it was why she had been blessed with a set twin boys—Clarinda felt a blush rise to color her neck and cheeks. “There are many ways to make love. What you’ve just described seems awkward, I know, but—”
“Awkward?” Danielle repeated in shock. “I shan’t be treated no better than a dog,” she huffed, her chin rising with indignation.
“Then you won’t bear an heir for your husband,” Dahlia argued.
“I won’t have to bear one if I’m living an independent life in Italy,” Danielle countered.
“Girls,” Clarinda hissed. “How did this conversation even start?”
For a moment, the two were blessedly silent as they regarded one another before Dahlia, the braver one, lifted her chin and said, “We can hear you.”
“What?”
Danielle rolled her eyes. “You and Father.”
