Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

AUGUSTA

I stare at the women as they sit across and beside me, leaving Miss Campbell to mill about. Since she does not have the purse strings of a husband to fund her, it only makes sense that she does not partake.

"Forgive me, Madam," I say to the Duchess of Foxford. "I believe it is your turn."

"Oh, for goodness' sake, just call me Teresa. You're stripping me bare as it is, so you might as well call me by my Christian name."

"Agreed," the others chime in, their tones glum as they toss down useless cards.

The only person who seems happy at this arrangement is Catherine. She preens like a cat who ate the canary as she looks over at our combined tricks. No doubt the others will want to change partners at some point, leaving her at a disadvantage.

Teresa scowls at the cards and huffs. "I know it is my turn. I just detest that these cards are against me." With a harrumph, she tosses down a throwaway, ruining any possibility for her team to gather another trick. "I am bored with this. Shall we not have some other bit of amusement?"

Catherine glances over at her, a smirk tilting up her lips. "What sort of amusement do you have in mind?"

"Have any of you played questions and commands? It was introduced to me at a Michaelmas gathering."

I glance at the others before I shake my head. Thankfully, I am not the only one. With us as her captive audience, she leans in and wraps a hand around her mouth, as if imparting some grand secret.

"It is a game where we take turns asking questions. If you refuse to answer or we are not satisfied with the answer, you must pay a forfeit."

"A forfeit," I cry, shaking my head as I grin. "Surely there are better ways to win your coin back."

"Fie," she laughs. "My husband is good for it. I have no quarrel with you winning my money. More the fact that I do not wish to lose any more."

"Then what, pray tell, do you propose as a forfeit?"

"Asker's choice."

"This sounds dangerous…" I hedge, my mind churning as I think of everything that can go wrong.

She shrugs and gives a quick smile. "That is, if you're not up for a little excitement…"

"I didn't say that."

"Then we are of an accord?"

A heavy sigh slips through my lips as I agree. "Very well. Far be it from me to stand down from a challenge."

"Oh what fun," she cries, clapping her hands. "We shall have a grand time. You'll see."

"Somehow, I doubt it."

Rising from the table, we gather at some chairs and form a loose circle. Off to the side, my aunt sits with her mouth ajar, snores pouring forth.

"As the hostess," Teresa says. "You should go first. Ask anyone here a question. If they do not answer or you think their answer isn't the truth, you may punish them how you see fit."

I look at each of them in turn, not sure where to even start. "Anything?" Everyone, save Emma, smiles widely as they glance at each other. "And nothing is off limits? Even if it's improper?"

This time, Teresa's smile turns a bit dark as she leans in. "Who's here to chastise us? The men are far away enjoying their evening of drink and camaraderie. Please, shock us, if you think you can."

I square my shoulders and look directly at Teresa. "Very well. Does your husband discipline you?"

"Yes, he does. And I enjoy every bit of it. Well, that is, if he's not being too heavy-handed, or I actually deserved it."

Emma holds her hand to her lips as if shocked by the revelation. "You too? That is to say, you get punished too?" Her face turns red as she looks down. "Not necessarily the enjoying part."

"Fie, as if you don't. Your face tells the tale." She turns to me, her lips quirking up into a wide grin. "Have I answered your question to your satisfaction?"

I blink at her, dumbfounded by the leisure with which she proclaimed what I've been holding secret. "Yes, you have. But-"

"Excellent." She turns to poor Emma who looks as if she wishes the floor will swallow her whole. "Emma. Do you or do you not enjoy the harsh hand with which your husband gives you pain and pleasure?"

Her face turns so red, I fear flames will spout from every pore. "Must we talk about this?" She whines. "'Tis so unseemly."

"You don't have to answer, but you will face a punishment."

"What's the punishment," she whispers.

At this, Teresa's lips curl up into a mischievous smile. "Something that I'm sure will get you into far more trouble than answering a simple question."

As dark as her face gets, it pales almost instantly. "I cannot understand why, but yes. I enjoy it," she mumbles, refusing to look at us. "To clarify, it is not the trouble I enjoy. Just…"

"His heavy hand against your backside before shoving his fingers deep inside your quim," Catherine supplies. "Do not worry so. His brother is the same way. In fact, I dare say all these dukes are cut from the same, deviant cloth. Remember, I met my betrothed at The Rose and Thorne."

"You didn't," I blurt out, completely scandalized by the conversation.

Catherine grins. "How do you know about The Rose and Thorne? It's supposed to be a clandestine place that only men know of."

"Blast," I mutter under my breath.

"It's my turn for a question then, is it not?" Emma asks, finally taking on a glint of mischief in her eyes.

"Yes," I hedge, and I know exactly where she's going to go with her line of questioning.

"How do you know about The Rose and Thorne?"

A ragged groan rips from my lips as I bury my head in my hands.

"Do not be vexed," Teresa laughs. "What is said here stays here. On my honor."

I start and stop a few times, not sure exactly how far I should go with this tale. But seeing as I'll be wed tomorrow, it's not as if I can be any more scandalized. When I'm done, they blink at me, their mouths agape.

"And here I thought I was the scandalous one," Teresa murmurs, leaning back in her chair. "I must say, I admire your tenacity."

"If only Portswell admired it as well. I dare say he was quite wroth with me."

"Well, it's certainly understandable," Catherine chimes in. "That place is not one to be trifled with."

"Yes, but you know of it too. How is it acceptable for you to know, but not me?"

"My circumstances are a bit different. I was forced to go there."

It's my turn to have my jaw drop. "But you're a duchess!"

"Ahh. I didn't start out that way."

"Nor I," Teresa chimes in.

"Certainly not I," Emma agrees, still refusing to meet our gaze.

The trio regale me with their histories including the saucy bits I never expected to hear from their lips. Not only do I feel less alone, but I also feel more at ease with them than I do with my own family at times. Glancing back over at Aunt Amelia, I note that she's still fast asleep.

"I still have another question," Teresa says. "And I wish to ask it of our dear Augusta."

"Truly? But I've already been interrogated. Can't you bother Catherine with it?"

"Nope. My question is for you and ties directly in with your wedding. I already know her answer."

My face blanches as I stare at the inquisitive eyes on me. Curiosity and dread flood my system as I try to conjure up what manner of question this might be. Would I dare be able to answer? Granted, with what I've already revealed, there's not too much left to tell.

"Have you seen a male phallus?"

Certainly not the question I was expecting. Unable to speak, I merely shake my head. "I may be rough and tumble, but I have not had the pleasure or the misfortune."

"Would you like to?" Cynthia pipes up, her smile far too wide and eager.

"Wait. Have you? You're not even engaged."

"Not for lack of trying," Catherine teases. "We hope to have her wed soon enough."

Teresa leans forward and gives a conspiratorial wink. "Perhaps it is time you put your aunt to bed so that we may prepare you for tomorrow night."

Next to her, Emma sighs. "I suppose it's only fair. You both ambushed me."

My mind is in a whirl as I gather the cards and head over to my aunt. Standing beside her, I place a hand on her shoulder and jostle it a bit, not wishing to startle her. When she comes to, it takes her a moment to focus before patting my hand.

"Having fun with your friends dear?"

"I am. Ever so much so. But I would enjoy things far more if you were to put my cards somewhere safe for Portswell then turn in for the night. I will need you bright-eyed and ready for my wedding tomorrow."

"Oh. But the girls…"

Teresa stands by my side and grins down at my aunt. "Rest easy. With three married duchesses, the propriety of this household is safe enough."

"If you're sure." The older woman yawns, desperately trying to stay awake.

"I insist. I'd much rather you be in attendance for the main event."

"Such a sweet girl. Thank you. I shall take my leave."

We all watch as she exits the room and still pause for several moments until we're sure of her absence. "Come," Catherine cries out as she pats the sofa next to her. "Allow us to prepare you!"

I blink at the four women in front of me as I look between them and the papers in my lap. "And this is accurate?"

"To the best of our combined knowledge," Teresa says, her expression somber. "Granted, there may be other forms of deviance out there that are not recorded in these drawings, but we do try to update it as we can. Mostly with each new wife comes a new set of drawings. Soon, you will have something to add, I'm sure."

Again, that tendril of heat climbs up my face. How many of these things will Portswell do to me? How many will I want? Turning back to the cross-section of the phallus, my lips screw up in distaste.

"It seems rather large does it not?"

The four giggle but say nothing for a moment.

"In truth," Cynthia blurts out, "I thought this was a tumor at first." She taps on the bulbous portion just below the long shaft. "Thankfully, I was incorrect."

"Thankfully, you saw one and drew it, so we were not so ill-informed," Teresa giggles, covering her mouth with her delicate fingers.

"Yes," I murmur, turning the drawing this way and that. "I understand the mechanics as you've said, but something that large seems as if it would split me in two." I look further and note a drawing with what looks like an odd, viscous liquid. "And this?"

"Ahhh," Catherine murmurs. "That will be the seed. It comes out of them at their point of release."

"It's all rather sticky and messy if you ask me," Emma chimes in, finally speaking up.

The others turn to her and laugh, joining in agreement. I glance down at my hand, wondering if that was what splashed upon me after my release. My lips curl up into a soft smile as I realize just how far I've pushed the good duke. Seems he's not impervious after all.

"You know what I think," Teresa calls out. "I think we should give Augusta a proper education. It's one thing to see these things in drawings, and quite another to see them in person."

Emma pales and runs her hand over her throat. "We dare not. The dukes-"

"Are out enjoying their stag night," she butts in, cutting her off. "They're drinking, laughing, and enjoying the last night of singlehood. Why can we not do the same?"

"Please," she pleads. "They will be most wroth if they find us gone. Besides… They'll know."

Teresa gives her an exasperated sigh. "Then we will not be gone that long. Just clear your mind of all thoughts except happiness for the wedding tomorrow. If you feel guilty, then they'll know. Catherine, are you still on good terms with the madame at The Rose and Thorne?"

As they say the name again, a nagging sensation claws at the back of my head. Yes, that's where Portswell took me… but there's something else. Something about that place. Shrugging it off, excitement fills my being. How long has it been since I've been naughty?

With my upcoming wedding looming, and the threat of not being allowed to release, I've kept myself circumspect. It would be nice to feel the night wind in my hair once more.

"I know a way out that will help us be unnoticed," I murmur, not fully realizing I spoke out loud.

"Excellent," Teresa exclaims, jumping up and clapping her hands.

"Please listen to reason," Emma cajoles, her eyes wet as if she's about to cry.

Catherine lays a hand on her arm and gives her a warm, kind smile. "You do not have to come with us. If we are to be punished for our actions, it is our will and our will alone."

"But Cynthia and Augusta are still unmarried. Without chaperones…" Distress wafts off of her in waves as she looks at us and wrings her hands.

Teresa links arms with Catherine. "And what are we? It will be fine! Just a quick peek. An education for the newest duchess, and we shall return home. No mess, no foul."

Defeated, she slumps forward and shakes her head. "I suppose we will need thick cloaks to conceal us on our journey."

"Huzzah!" Teresa and Catherine cry out. "It shall be fun. You will see. You must strive to not worry so much!"

"It is not the journey I fear," she murmurs. "It's our backsides if we get caught."

"If," I repeat, the contagious excitement finally taking hold until I cannot help but feel the same elation. "If is the pertinent word."