Lily nodded, biting into the sweet almond and lemon treat.
“She may have done more than kiss him,” Rose said, waggling her brows.
Feeling her face flood with color, Lily gasped. “You have no reason to believe such a thing.”
“Haven’t I?” Rose countered. “This morning—” She stopped, gaping at Lily’s face.
Which was a picture of outrage.
Rose must have seen her return to their chamber this morning, Lily realized. Was she really going to spread tales about her late-night excursion? Just a few breaths after Lily had allowed her to gloss over her own indiscretions?
Rose’s dark eyes widened as she got the message. “Gemini, I was only jesting.”
Lily brushed sugary crumbs off her skirts while she thought of a way to quickly change the subject. “Remember that song I was practicing for Rand? The one he’s always humming?”
“What of it?”
“It has naughty words. And there are others, too. A whole book of them.”
“A book?” Rose sat forward eagerly. “Did he show it to you?“
Lily shook her head. ”He doesn’t own a copy. He said he read it in a friend’s library.“
“And you believed him?” Rose rolled her eyes. “That’s the oldest—”
Violet cleared her throat. “Could you mean An Antidote Against Melancholy?”
“Yes,” Lily said, reaching for her wine, “I think that was the title.”
“Then I believe Ford is the friend in question. I’ve seen that book in our library.” Biting into a strawberry, Violet looked quite unconcerned. “It is naughty,” she added with a grin.
“Let’s send for it,” Rose suggested. The glitter in her eyes belied her solemn tone. “It sounds educational.”
Violet laughed but scribbled a note to Ford. They sent a footman to deliver it and instructed him to wait and bring the book back. “Now,” she said, “while we wait, we must solve the problem at hand.”
Lily went over the whole story again, all the painful details. Then they tossed around ideas. But every solution proposed, no matter how promising at first, turned out to be flawed, impossible, or downright ludicrous.
As it appeared more and more that Lily’s situation was hopeless, the suggestions became fewer and farther between, until an hour later they’d fallen into a heavy silence.
Violet slipped off her spectacles and rubbed her eyes. “Faith, we’re a woebegone bunch. This is supposed to be a party. We’ll discuss this again later, but for now, let’s see if the songbook has arrived.”
Soon they were in the drawing room, giggling, the book propped up on the harpsichord where they could all see the words while Lily read the music.
“Play this one, Lily,” Rose said, her dark eyes wide. She began singing.
“My mistress is a mine of gold—
Would that it were her pleasure
To let me dig within her mould
And roll among her treasure!”
The Ashcroft sisters laughed, but Judith just sipped her wine, looking bemused. “I don’t understand. Dig within her mould?”
“He means the woman’s…you know,” Rose said.
Judith looked even more baffled. “I’m not certain I do know.”
“Truly?” Rose asked incredulously. “I vow and swear, you must read Aristotle’s Master-piece before you get married.”
Now Judith gasped. Although she knew the Ashcroft sisters had all read it, the book was considered scandalous. A desperate look in her eyes, she turned to Violet. “You’re married. Tell me.”
Lily was relieved that she wasn’t the one asked to explain.
While a pink-cheeked Judith learned the facts from Violet, Rose flipped pages in the book. “This one seems amusing,” she said when Violet was finished. “’The Comical Dreamer.’”
Lily set the book back up on the harpsichord and began to play. This time they all sang together, even Judith.
“Last night a dream came into my head,
Thou wert a fine white loaf of bread
Then if May-butter I could be,
How I would spread,
Oh! how I would spread myself on thee!”
By the final verse, they had dissolved into giggles. Lily clutched her stomach—she couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so hard. Despite everything, she was having fun.
“Sh-shall we,” Judith gasped, “sing another?”
FIFTY-EIGHT
CHRYSTABEL SMILED to herself when she heard the opening notes of “The Lusty Young Smith.” It was one of her favorites.
Stretched out beside her on their bed, Joseph couldn’t hear the worlds filtering through the thick stone walls. “What’s that they’re singing, Chrysanthemum?”
“Oh, I cannot make out the tunes.” She sipped from her goblet of wine. “I’m just happy that Lily is enjoying herself.”
He’d die if he knew. Joseph liked to think his daughters were much too ladylike for bawdy fun, and she wouldn’t be the one to disabuse him of the notion. “I’m sure the others are just trying to cheer Lily up. And doing an excellent job, from the sound of it. It was good of Rose to plan the sleeping party. Thoughtful, don’t you think?”
Setting down his empty goblet, Joseph nodded. “Perhaps Rose is finally growing up.”
“Perhaps she is.” Chrystabel finished her own wine and sighed. “Our children are all growing up.”
“Too fast,” he agreed. His green eyes turned troubled. “About Lily—”
“I’m concerned, yes. Worried sick, truth be told. Should Rand not find a way out of this, Lily will be left devastated.”
“Especially if anything untoward happened between them at Hawkridge,” he added anxiously.
“Oh, nothing did, thank heaven.” Turning to face him, she reached to caress one whisker-roughened cheek. “I suppose I should have told you, but it never occurred to me that you were worrying, too.” She always expected him to be oblivious to such concerns, like other men. But sometimes he surprised her. And he did love his children very much.
That was only one of the many reasons she loved him so very much.
He frowned. “How do you know? A mother’s intuition? Because I’ve told you before, my love, you cannot tell these things just by looking—”
She laughed, a sound of amusement mixed with relief. “I know because I had Parkinson write to his aunt at Hawkridge, a woman by the name of Etta. Her return letter arrived with the coachman, bearing assurances
