When that roused the girls' questions, Madeline shot him a look that said she'd repay him for that little comment later. Outrageous devil that he was, he merely laughed. And despite having been married to the man for nearly five months, she still responded to that laugh with an increased pulse and a silly fluttering in the pit of her belly.
"Uncle Anthony," Tessa chirped, "Lucy has a question for you."
Poor unsuspecting Anthony said, "Ask away, Miss Seton. You know I'm always happy to help you girls."
Lucy seemed to debate something, then thrust out her chin. "If a gentleman asks a lady to meet him, say, in the garden, say, at night, so he can show her the constellations, is he…well…"
"Who asked you to meet him in a garden at night?" Anthony growled, tossing down his fork.
"No one in particu— "
"It was Lord Westfield!" Elinor offered. "He said he'd show her the stars."
Tessa and Elinor giggled together.
"I'll show
him
stars," Anthony muttered. "Westfield isn't good enough for either of you, considering that he spends half his evenings at Mrs. Bea— "
"Anthony, darling," Madeline cut in before he actually named the popular brothel, "I'm sure Lord Westfield meant nothing by it."
Anthony snorted, then gave the girls a warning look. "Stay away from Lord Westfield, understand? He's most definitely a beast in gentleman's clothing."
"What about his younger brother?" Tessa asked in wide-eyed innocence. "He told his sister— she goes to the school with me— that he couldn't wait until I was old enough to dance at our assemblies, because he wanted to dance with me."
Anthony's mouth dropped open; then he cast Madeline a glance of sheer fatherly panic. "God save us, she's already lining up dance partners for the assemblies!"
"Don't worry, that's a few years off yet," Madeline said, biting back a smile. "The girls don't get to dance with boys until the age of sixteen."
"I don't suppose Mrs. Harris would add ten years to that," he said hopefully.
"Don't be silly, Uncle Anthony." Tessa gave him an airy smile. "Then I'd be twenty-six, and that's far too
old
."
When she said it in the faintly disgusted tone of the very young, Madeline burst into laughter, since this was her own twenty-sixth birthday. "Yes, darling," she told Anthony, "and we
old
people never dance. We're too busy polishing our canes."
"And lying in our invalid beds," Mrs. Jenkins said with a twinkle.
"And snoring in church," Papa put in as he squeezed Mrs. Jenkins's hand.
The four of them laughed together while the girls exchanged perplexed glances.
But much later, after everyone else had retired and Madeline had finished dressing for bed, she entered the master bedchamber to find her husband frowning at himself in the mirror.
"Do you think I'm old, sweetheart?" he asked as he peered closely at his hair.
Coming up behind him, she wrapped her arms around his waist. "Not particularly. Why?"
"I found a gray hair this morning."
She laughed. "I take it back. You're doddering on the edge of the grave."
"That's not funny," he grumbled as he faced her. "I
feel
old whenever Tessa and her friends start talking about young gentlemen." He scowled. "Gentlemen, hah! They're a lot of scurrilous scoundrels who ought to be horsewhipped before being allowed anywhere near young ladies."
Another laugh escaped her. "Whatever happened to the rakehell I married?"
"He now remembers every minute of his misbegotten youth and fears for the safety of females around men like him." He sighed. "Good God, listen to me. I
am
old. I've become quite the stodgy fellow."
"Hardly," she said, brushing a kiss to his lips.
Yes, he'd grown into a responsible gentleman determined to build a good life for them in Chertsey, but he was a long way from stodgy. A stodgy man didn't stop what he was doing to go on a picnic when his niece requested it. Or build a laboratory on his estate so his wife could pursue naturalist studies to her heart's content. Or chase said wife around the table with reckless abandon.
"The girls continue to ask you questions about rogues without the least concern about your stodginess," Madeline went on. "Clearly, they still regard you as quite the authority on the subject."
He gave a rueful laugh. "I knew those rake lessons would prove the bane of my life."
"Probably for years to come. Or at least until Tessa marries." She backed toward the bed with a grin. "Now
I
have a question for you, Lord Norcourt."
His look changed at once to that of the rakehell she knew and loved. "And what might that be, minx?"
She slipped her wrapper from her shoulders, letting it slide to the floor. "If a gentleman asks a lady to meet him, say, in his bedchamber, say, at night, so he can show her the stars, is he…well…"
"Grateful to her for indulging his beastly nature?" he rasped as he caught her about the waist and drew her to him. "Delighted to be married to such a wise and clever woman?" He bent his head. "Wildly, deliriously, ecstatically in love?"
"I was going to say, 'angling to seduce her,' but I like yours better."
"Then the answer is yes."
"To which question?" she teased.
"All of them." He nuzzled her cheek before whispering in her ear, "Now come on, sweetheart. Let me show you the stars."
And he did.
Author's Note
The anesthetic properties of nitrous oxide (otherwise known as laughing gas) were discovered by Sir Humphry Davy in 1799. The famous chemist really did write a 579-page tome about his experiments on it, in which he included accounts of use by such celebrities of the day as poets Robert Southey and Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Peter Roget (yes,
that
Roget), and Josiah and Thomas Wedgwood. But not until 1846 was the gas actually used to numb pain, and by then ether and chloroform had also been discovered. In the intervening years, the gas was primarily used for entertainment at parties, a practice which continues to this day. Sir Humphry's wife was indeed a jealous woman, and he did have health problems stemming, some say, from his addiction to nitrous oxide.
I based the incident with Dr. Prescott's patient on a real-life occurrence that happened to a friend of mine. He had an abscess, and when the doctor began to probe it, he went into sepsis. They had to rush him to the hospital to prevent his dying on the table. It made me wonder what happened in times when knowledge of sepsis and a means for combating it weren't available.
Condoms have been around for centuries, with the oldest extant specimen (dating from 1640) having been discovered in Sweden, along with its Latin user's manual. And yes, it has ribbons. Pictures of it appear on the Internet.
As for my other elements about sexuality, until the seventeenth century, masturbation wasn't considered that awful. Some medical works even touted it as a remedy for unwise liaisons. That changed in 1710 with the release of
Onania; or the Heinous Sin of Self-Pollution and All its Frightful Consequences in both Sexes considered,
written by a clergyman, and the subsequent release in 1760 of a book by a Swiss physician, Samuel Tissot.
Despite the occasional pamphlet refuting those anti-masturbation critics, the furor continued, with the practice being decried throughout the Victorian Age, when it reached its height with ingenious devices invented to prevent it. Voices like those of Madeline and her father who criticized the hysteria were widely ignored. And yes, animals do masturbate.
Animals have been a source of fascination to humans for years, which is why menageries like the one on Charles Godwin's estate sprang up everywhere in England in the nineteenth century. Clarabelle is based on a real-life rhino named Clara who was exhibited throughout Europe in the mid-1700s, entertaining thousands. She was reported to be tame and friendly. So how could I resist putting her look-alike in a book?
