The dear lady looked surprised and vaguely flustered, but in keeping with her new life resolutions, she peered at the paper, mouthing the words. A red flush flamed her cheeks and hesitating, she looked up.
Rosalind nodded vigorously.
“Well, if you really want me to.”
“Mmhhmm,” she replied.
“Benedict.” Lily paused and delicately cleared her throat. “Rosalind would like to say that if she hears any more of your fiddle faddle, she will give you an inch of cold iron and… Are you sure, dear?”
“Grrrrmm.”
“Very well then. An inch of cold iron and flick your…dropping member, so you can’t quiff for love nor coin. She’d also like to say, to dear Lucas that if he doesn’t want – I don’t understand this, Rosalind, but I’ll read it nevertheless – if he doesn’t want to end up in the ruffles with his plug tail under the hatches, then he’d best cheese his gob. Really, Rosalind, I mean…” And Lily’s red flush descended to her neck and chest.
Benedict hooted with laughter at the mention of dropping members regaled by the cool, prim voice of Lily. The following comment, however, had caused him to choke and he’d been hit on the back by Daphne with a firm thump as the pie caught in his throat.
Rosalind smiled contentedly.
Laughter died down and she looked to Lucas. His face was lowered, still eating his luscious-looking dinner but now one fist was clenched and she could see a tightness in his jaw as he chewed. Surely he wasn’t angry at her language? It was meant as fun. Lud, they still had so much to learn about each other. He looked up, obviously feeling her stare.
Oh. His face wasn’t grim, it wasn’t irritated, and it certainly wasn’t angry. Pewter eyes stared back at her, and she knew that look now – passionate and full of fervent desire.
Smiling, she closed her eyes and listened: Cooper was bemoaning the wine situation, Benedict was murmuring sweet things to Daphne, and Lily was now explaining to Lucas how she always won at whist, something to do with a good memory and mathematics. She listened beyond to the fire crackling, the faint yowling of a cat embarking on its nocturnal adventures and then behind all those sounds…peace.
Since the asylum, she’d been living a good and happy life at Stonebridge. But now she was living a blissful one. Oh, she had no doubt there would still be difficult times – her dreams would not leave her and Lucas had cautioned he still had his problems – but they would face them together.
Dinner came to an end and, as it was only the two of them, the gentlemen withdrew to the study for their port, leaving the ladies to wander to the warm drawing room. Daphne and Lily talked quietly about linen-folding and although it sounded most dull, Rosalind loved the soft, muted sounds of their voices.
It was most frustrating not being able to speak, but Lucas had thoroughly examined her and assured her it would not be long. She wasn’t sure that kissing every single bruise on her body was a recorded cure, but then Lucas was only a surgeon, after all.
“I am going to London in the spring.” Rosalind’s head jerked up as Lily made her announcement.
“My Goodness. Does Benedict know?” Daphne enquired.
“Oh yes. I am going to stay with an aunt of his, so I suppose a distant relation of mine as well. I have also started a list. Of things I would like to do. I’m afraid one’s imagination isn’t as lurid as Rosalind’s…”
Some things would never change and Rosalind was glad about that.
“But,” continued Lily, “I did write down all your suggestions from the other day. I have also added a few of my own…” She cleared her throat to begin, “Dance with a rogue, stay out past two in the morning, read a naughty book, and…I would like to put my mind to business matters. I know it isn’t done, but I’ve always been very good at mathematics and so forth. I have a small amount of money put away and Benedict has put me in touch with a man of business. One shall…invest.”
Daphne laughed and hugged her, telling her it was a wonderful start, and Rosalind clapped in delight. She had no doubt Lily would be the richest woman by the end of next year.
“I would like to begin, however, with the first thing on my list – Miss Pikesworth’s book on etiquette. I sometimes imagine myself as a young girl, trapped in those pages, and your suggestion of burning it, Rosalind, is excellent. There are far worthier books to read in the world.”
The two ladies came to stand next to Lily by the fireplace and watched as she threw the small volume into the eager flames. As it charred and burned, Rosalind noticed a tear trace its way down Lily’s pretty cheek. She pulled her close and Lily’s arm clasped at her waist.
“Silly, I know. It’s as if I’m burning that young girl.”
It was Daphne that replied, “You still are that girl, Lily. All our experiences, good and bad, make up who we are. They are never forgotten. We just have to use them wisely.”
Rosalind frowned: lud, that was exactly the type of thing she would say.
Daphne smiled and whispered, “You have no voice today, Rosalind, but I heard you.”
They all linked arms in front of the fire, relishing the warmth that Miss Pikesworth had provided.
The hallway was rather draughty after the cosy drawing room, so Rosalind darted up the stairs. She’d been rather disappointed to discover that Lucas had retired to bed after his port as she’d hoped to snuggle on the chaise with him and finish the book.
Benedict had also disappeared a little later to check on his horses, and Daphne had sighed as he’d left, departing not long after. Lily was perusing the bookshelves and Rosalind had left her to it – she wasn’t quite sure if it was for the fictional delights of Swift and Defoe or the naughty books. If she’d had a voice, she would have told Lily to use the ladder for the top shelf behind the door.
