Bloody hell, Grayson. You look like something a stable boy scrapes off his boots.”

Unlike earlier in the evening, Grayson was not pleased to see Lord Caldwell. After the fiasco at the ball, he had retreated to the sanctuary of his club where he had taken full advantage of his membership status to imbibe in copious amounts of alcohol. Perkins, the club steward, had made the ill-fated suggestion that perhaps Lord Grayson would like to retire to one of the guest rooms above stairs in order to rest.

And now, not only had the help taken notice of his smashed state, but his friend Lord Caldwell had arrived to witness his misery. Grayson’s appreciation for Caldwell’s convivial nature evaporated and he scowled up at him. “Leave me alone, Caldwell.”

“Not bloody likely.” Caldwell pulled a seat up nearer to Grayson and peered at his face. “You need a bath and some rest, mate. What has gotten into you? You caused quite a stir at the ball.”

Grayson’s head pounded and he scrubbed his hands over his face. “I have made a mess of things, it would appear.”

“You have given the ladies something to chatter about, certainly, but I believe your reputation is quite safe...as long as you are not seen in public in your current state. Honestly, Grayson. What were you thinking? Is it true you asked Miss Venture about a street gang?”

Grayson leapt from his seat as fast as a man with a banger of a headache could and paced across the plush carpet and back again, arms pumping at his sides in agitation.

“I do not know what has happened to me,” he said, tamping down the panic—or was that his dinner—rising inside him. “What the blazes was I thinking? I had never spoken to the young woman before and the first thing out of my mouth was to ask her about a street gang? Not the weather or a compliment to her gown? Have I lost my bloody mind?”

“You would not be the first gentleman to lose his concentration in the presence of a comely young lady, Grayson,” his friend generously pointed out. “Though I must admit, it seems quite uncharacteristic for you.”

“Exactly!” Grayson said and continued his pacing. Perkins arrived bearing a pot of tea on a tray which he sat upon a table and commenced preparing a cup for the agitated lord. Without even asking, he simply put the cup in Grayson’s hand the next time he held still long enough for the act to be completed. Once the hot liquid hit his throat, Grayson was grateful and felt a mite bad over his poor treatment of the steward a few minutes prior.

“A street gang? Named The Weasels? Are you daft, man? Did you make the entire thing up?” Caldwell shook his head. “No, never mind. Whether it is fact or fiction, the question is, why did you say it at all?”

Grayson finished his tea and held the cup out for a refill. He was grateful for the late hour, even by the standards of White’s, which meant only Caldwell, Perkins and a couple of servants were privy to the spectacle his complete discomposure created. He was this far in, he might as well share all.

“I-I met a girl, a young lady, recently. A most unusual young lady with hair like spun gold and the disposition of an angel. Yet, she told me the most outrageous tale of being part of a street gang called The Weasels.”

Caldwell’s mouth hung open and he leaned toward Grayson as though in disbelief, when he finally closed it enough to make his jaw work, he said, “Where is she? If she has captivated you so much that you have lost all sense of composure, why were you at a ball dancing with other young ladies? No wonder you were so dissatisfied with your dance partners.”

“She is,” Grayson’s heart squeezed in his chest in a most unfamiliar way as he spoke, “betrothed to another. In fact, I believe she is to be wed in a matter of hours.” His consternation over his own behavior at the ball paled in comparison to the complete misery which engulfed him at the prospect of another man touching his Miss Heathrow. To hell with blood and lineage and his once staunchly held beliefs regarding such matters. What a cad he’d been to consider himself above anyone. He found he cared not who her parents were and thought her more charming and intelligent than any of the ladies of the ton. It occurred to him that he didn’t even know her first name, but it mattered not. She was an angel fallen from heaven above, her habit of telling fanciful stories of street gangs notwithstanding.

“Betrothed to another, you say? Then we have not a moment to lose, now do we, Grayson. Come on man, we have a bride to fight for.”

“What are you talking about, Caldwell? I told you, she is betrothed to another.”

“And so that is it, then? Have you told her of your feelings for her?”

Here Grayson nearly blushed in humiliation. “I-I have only spoken to her one time. I am sure she would be shocked to know I was even still thinking of her. In fact, I am shocked by it myself. Perhaps I ought to see a doctor. Clearly I have contracted some loathsome disease.”

“The most loathsome disease of all, my friend. You are in love.” Caldwell grabbed Grayson’s arm with one hand and another cup of tea from Perkins with his other. “We have no time to spare. We must get you cleaned up and then we are off to—” Caldwell cocked his head to the side and studied Grayson. “Where are we off to, my lord?”

“Talcott House. And we must hurry.”

* * *

“Oh, Cynny, you are the most beautiful bride I ever saw,” Rosie said as she circled slowly around her friend who was adorned in all her bridal finery.

Cynny giggled. “I am the first bride you've ever seen, Rosie,” she said, “so of course I am the most beautiful.”

“Even if I had seen one hundred brides, none could be nearly as pretty as you, Hyacinth, and well you know it.”

“Oh, do you really think so, Rosie?” Cynny asked. She was quite anxious over the fact that she would, within just a few hours, be married to Lord Kensington, a man she had never met before. Although she had great faith in Miss Wickersham’s ability to select just the right papa for each of her girls, Hyacinth could not help but feel a bit anxious. She comforted herself with the reminder that her friend Cammie had found true love with her papa, Lord Cavendish. And she had never met him before she was married either, so clearly Miss Wickersham knew what she was doing.

If that were really true, then why could Cynny not stop thinking about Lord Grayson, the man she met in the garden just a few days ago? Their encounter had been extremely brief and Cynny knew that she was inexperienced with men, and so perhaps the warm feeling in her tummy she had for Lord Grayson was simply the result of meeting an attractive man. She certainly hoped that Lord Kensington would be a handsome man as well.

Cynny realized it was ironic that she hoped for a handsome husband since she had been judged and approved of for her beauty her entire life. Very few people had bothered to get to know the girl beneath the beautiful golden curls. Cynny looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. She missed Cammie. She wished she was here with her today to share in her special moment, but also to give her advice.

The letter from Cammie still had her confused, and she thought of the most shocking tidbit from the letter and nearly gasped in her nervousness.

Your papa will have a big shaft between his legs called a cock. It will get hard when he desires you and he will thrust it inside your kitty.

Even if papas had cocks, what exactly did they look like? Shaft was too vague a description and Cynny wished Cammie had drawn her a picture.

In addition to being anxious about marrying a man she had never even spoken to before, Cynny had not yet had her meeting with Nurse Lister. Before Cammie got married she had a special examination with Nurse Lister and when Cammie returned to their shared bedroom, she had the most calm expression on her face and a mysterious smile on her lips. When Cynny asked her about it, all Cammie could say was, “You'll have to wait until it's your turn. It is too much for me to describe.”

Ever since then Cynny had been waiting for her turn with Nurse Lister in order to find out what happens between married men and women. Between a papa and his little girl. She had the letter from Cammie, but she had more questions than the letter answered. Would she be able to ask them of Nurse Lister without dying of embarrassment? For example, how on Earth would something like a big hard cock fit inside her kitty? She mostly hoped that Nurse Lister would volunteer the information so she would not be forced into the humiliating situation of being forced to ask.

As one of the oldest girls at Talcott House, she should know the answers to these questions, but she did not. Frankly until she saw the dreamy look on Cammie's face after her examination from Nurse Lister, Cynny had had no interest in what happened between papas and their little girls. But there was no denying that something very interesting had happened to Cammie and based upon her letter, those sorts of things continued to happen after marriage. Cynny had to know.

She checked her reflection in the mirror and smiled. Although her beauty had brought her much unwanted attention when she had been upon the streets, which Mary had always saved her from, now that she was to be a bride she was grateful that she had something to bring with her into the marriage. She was well aware that she had no dowry or trousseau of fine clothing, not even a family or a good reputation to bring with her. Her beauty was her only and finest gift.

And the gold pocket watch.

Her heart still fluttered when she thought about the daringness of stealing Lord Grayson's watch. She had, in her private moments, taken it out from its hiding place and caressed it in her hand, thinking about Lord Grayson’s long elegant fingers doing the same, winding the knob at the top, opening the case to check the time. She told herself she enjoyed holding the watch and looking at it because it was to be a gift for her husband. But if that was the case, why was it that she only thought about Lord Grayson in those times?

All of Cynny’s worldly possessions were stored in two large steamer trunks standing in the corner of the room, the gold pocket watch tucked safely between the layers of her infrequently worn undergarments, where Cynny felt it was least likely to be seen by anyone before she arrived at her new home and presented it to her papa.

New home. Her heart sunk as she glanced around the room she shared with Rosie and Daisy. No one had come yet to fill Cammie’s place and as far as Cynny was concerned no one ever could. She would miss the fun times that she had had here with Cammie and Rosie and Daisy.

Maybe once she was married she would have a chance to see Cammie. Cynny could hardly believe that her friend was now Lady Cavendish. What was even more surprising was that she was about to become Lady Kensington. Both of them ladies!

The sound of a carriage rolling up the lane drew Cynny, Rosie and Daisy to the window where they peeked from behind the curtains.

“Oh,” Daisy said in hushed tones, “what a beautiful carriage.” She glanced over at Cynny. “I hope Miss Wickersham finds a lord to be my papa too.”

“Hush!” Rosie said, giving Daisy a swat on the arm.

The footmen and driver were in their finest livery and the harnesses for the horses were adorned with silver polished so shiny it almost hurt Cynny’s eyes. It was like transportation for a princess.

Her tummy flipped and flopped as a footman jumped from the back of the carriage and ran to open the door. Cynny held her breath as she waited to catch a glimpse of her papa. One elegant leg was visible, followed by the rest of a very attractive man dressed in wedding finery. He glanced up at Talcott House and smiled. Cynny and her friends quickly ducked away from his view.

“Do you think he saw us?” Daisy asked in a loud whisper.

“I thought I told you to hush.” Rosie glared at Daisy. Cynny had to wonder how those two would survive now that she and Cammie would not be there to keep the peace between them. Rosie and Daisy squabbled and argued like sisters, but they loved each other like sisters too.

Cynny made her way to the window and stole another peek at her soon-to-be husband. He was handsome and had a kindly manner about him, which was obvious even from her perch two stories up. But, she noted with a bit of confusion and sadness, he did not give her that funny tingly feeling that she had gotten when she talked to—or thought about—Lord Grayson.

“He is quite handsome,” Rosie said, joining Cynny as they peeked out the window. “I am sure he will make a wonderful papa for you.”

Their attention was drawn from the window when the door to their room opened and Miss Wickersham entered. She looked a bit frazzled and moved about more briskly than usual.

“Oh my dear Hyacinth,” she said, “you are an absolutely beautiful bride, as I always knew you would be.” She adjusted Cynny’s veil and then her palm rested upon Cynny’s cheek in a maternal caress.

“Thank you, Miss Wickersham,” Hyacinth said, a light blush working its way up her neck and across her cheeks.

“Ladies,” Miss Wickersham said addressing Rosie and Daisy, “would you please excuse us for a moment as I would like to speak with Hyacinth alone.”

“Yes, Miss Wickersham,” Daisy and Rosie said in unison, giving a small curtsy to their headmistress as they made their way to the door.

Miss Wickersham took both Hyacinth’s hands in hers and clasped them warmly. “As you know,” she said, “Nurse Lister usually gives the brides-to-be an examination and talk about their duties as a wife. Sadly Nurse Lister has come down with a cold and cannot leave her rooms. So the task of teaching you about the ways of married people has fallen to me. Of course, I will not give you any sort of medical examination as that is Nurse Lister's province and we have a strict agreement that I will not interfere in her methods, even when she is unable to participate herself.”

Cynny had a mental picture of a dreamy-eyed Cammie returning from her examination and though she was sorry Nurse Lister was ill, she could not help but feel slighted. And very curious.

“But that does not prevent me from sharing with you the information that you will need to be a good and pleasing bride for your papa.”

A heated blush spread across her face until her forehead felt as though she might have even developed a fever. She was desperate for the information which Miss Wickersham was about to share with her but she was also morbidly humiliated at the idea of the intimate details which the discussion might involve. More than anything, Hyacinth feared her own lack of knowledge. How could she be pleasing to her papa when she had little idea what happened in the marital bedchamber? Furthermore, she was so uninformed she did not even know what questions she needed to ask.

If your papa is anything like mine, he will probably like to touch you and kiss you all over your body. Sometimes your papa might even put his mouth on your kitty.

Cynny flushed as she recalled another snippet from Cammie’s letter. Why would a papa put his mouth on her kitty? To kiss it? Or perhaps, to lick it?

The two of them moved to sit upon Hyacinth’s bed.

“There are many things which a young bride needs to know to be a proper wife for her papa,” Miss Wickersham said. “Here at Talcott House we have endeavored to teach you all those skills—deportment, posture, good manners, singing, drawing, household management. But the one piece of information which we have kept as a secret from all of you is the nature of the relationship between a man and a woman, of a husband and wife, of a papa and his little girl.”

Hyacinth stared at the floor. Already this conversation had made a fluttery feeling start in her tummy and she felt funny in her kitty too.

“This is because the men who seek out brides from Talcott House are looking for wives who are not worldly and wise. They seek innocent, sweet girls whom they can teach themselves about the ways of men and women. Do you understand, Hyacinth?”

“Yes, but please, Miss Wickersham, I must know. Please, you must tell me.”

“I will endeavor to tell you as much as I can, Hyacinth, but know that your papa will wish to do the majority of the teaching himself.”

“But what if I do not know what to do?” Hyacinth asked, panic rising in her chest.

“Now, Hyacinth,” Miss Wickersham said, patting her arm, “I am sure your papa will prefer that you not be too well informed in the ways of the world. It would not do for a young lady to be too familiar with marriage practices.”

It was on the tip of Hyacinth’s tongue to beg for more information, especially to ask what a cock looked like and exactly how large it was, but the conversation was interrupted by the sound of another carriage arriving at the front of Talcott House.

“How strange,” Miss Wickersham said as she stood to investigate. “Lord Kensington did not indicate that he was expecting additional guests for the wedding.”

Cynny followed closely behind Miss Wickersham and again saw an elaborate carriage come to a halt in front of Talcott House’s front door. Before the conveyance had stopped moving, one of the footmen had left his post at the rear of the carriage and ran to open the door, only to be nearly knocked to the ground when the door was opened by the occupant who bounded out the carriage and up the front steps of Talcott House in what appeared to be one smooth and eager movement.

“Good heavens, whatever can he be doing here? And today of all days.” Miss Wickersham’s words echoed Cynny’s panicked thoughts.

Lord Grayson had arrived at Talcott House.