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“But then what happened? You were on the bed...” prompted Philippa.
“While there was no candle wax involved, it was quite steamy. He was intent solely on my pleasure and he gave most freely.”
“Perhaps he’s a romantic disguised as a rogue?” Della asked hopefully.
“Even if he were, we can never be together, for he’s lost his fortune at the gaming hells and must marry for money. And swiftly.”
“You can’t trust that man, Viola,” Isobel said sternly. “Are you willing to become his mistress?”
“I overheard some ladies speculating that I was his mistress and it made me feel horrid. I could never do that, especially because I care so much for his sisters and it would harm them if such a scandal came to light.”
“Erm, do you think we might go back to a previous point?” Philippa tapped her finger on the table. “You were in the bed, he gave you pleasure... what I want to know is, precisely what manner of pleasure did he give?”
Viola’s face heated. “It’s not a proper topic. Let’s return to the book, shall we? I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“We all know that whatever Westbury did to you in that bed was being done to Vespera by her dastardly duke. It just happened off the page. And so... why don’t you fill in the blank pages for us?” asked Philippa.
Viola lowered her voice. “I’m not sure... that is I don’t even know what to call it, really. You see, his head was under my chemise, and he was, he was...”
“Gamahuching,” Beatrice whispered. “I knew it. Good on him. All the best rogues excel at it.”
“Is that what it’s called?” Viola asked in a whisper.
“According to a book I once read, yes. The wordgamahucheis of unknown etymology, which is always a delightful challenge.” Beatrice was a lover of word origins and had completed an etymological dictionary. “One bawdy book in Ford’s collection calls it ‘dipping into her honeypot,’ which made me giggle.”
“Why are we all whispering?” asked Della.
“Because it’s not a proper topic,” Viola replied.
“When have we ever been proper inside these walls?” Philippa asked. “That’s what we have the club for—to break all the rules.”
“Gamahuching!” Beatrice cried loudly.
“Hush,” Della said, giggling so hard she began hiccuping. “Mrs. Kettle might hear you.”
“I can’t believe we’re discussing such things,” said Isobel.
“Tell us more!” Philippa urged.
“There’s nothing more to tell. And it can never happen again. We both agreed so.”
“But shouldn’t he propose to you now?” Philippa asked.
“Of course not! He’s going to marry Lady Winifred. He was supposed to propose to her on our outing in Hyde Park but he was delayed. He requires a respectable duchess, someone to repair the family reputation. I possess none of the requirements. I’m poor, of low parentage, and I have no social connections.”
“You have us,” Beatrice said.
“I know, my dears, I have you but we’re rather on the fringes of society, are we not?”
“I think you ought to have expectations,” said Isobel.
“Everything’s in a tangle and the only thing tobe done is to leave before I hurt myself . . . or anyone else. I told West that we’re leaving after Papa finishes his symphony, which is due in two days. Isobel, I was hoping that your aunt’s cottage in Watford is still available?”
“It is. And I’ve already told her about you and your father and she’d be delighted for you to live there.”
“Is that really what you want, Viola?” asked Philippa.
“It’s just better if I leave. Go back to my old life. I’m not as bold and fearless as all of you. I’ve always been the quiet one, the supporter, the shoulder to lean on.”
