Page 11 of Drowned in the Pleasure of a Devilish Baron
“We were alone upstairs but a moment,” she confided, the two ladies drawing closer to ensure they did not miss a word. “And… he kissed me.”
Juliet clapped her hands excitedly, and even Lady Margaret looked impressed rather than scandalized.
“How did you manage that?” she asked, a note of envy in her voice, surprising the other two.
“I don’t know that I did anything, really,” Sarah said. “But he said he was going to kiss me, and I should say something if I wanted him to stop.”
“You said nothing,” Juliet guessed, raising a mischievous eyebrow.
“Not one word,” Sarah said.
“Oh, Sarah.” Juliet clasped her hands to her chest. “Your first kiss, and with Felix. What could be better?”
“Actually, it does get better,” Sarah said.
“Don’t tell me you allowed him to go further?” Lady Margaret asked.
“No. But Rebecca walked in on us, and of course was absolutely horrified. And do you know what your wonderful, delightful brother did?” Sarah grabbed both of Juliet’s hands and drew them to her chest. “He said he will go directly to my brother in the morning to ask for my hand!”
Juliet froze. “No,” she said.
“Yes!”
Juliet put the back of her hand to her forehead and swooned. “But Sarah, we’ll be sisters!”
“Sisters!” Sarah confirmed.
Juliet lunged forward and pulled Sarah into her arms, laughing and crying and squealing all at once. Even Lady Margaret succumbed to the girlish joy of the moment and patted Sarah’s hand warmly.
“That’s very nice,” she said over the incomprehensible happy sounds coming from Juliet.
“Do you think your brother will say yes?” Juliet leaned back, staring intently at Sarah. “Surely he will?”
A flash of anxiety stabbed Sarah. “If he doesn’t, I don’t know what I shall do,” she said.
“Come now, all will be well,” Lady Margaret said in a no-nonsense tone. “Jules, look, my brother is about to make a fool of himself.”
Indeed, Lord Cunningham was crossing to the center of the party, holding his son with one arm, and clicking a knife to his champagne glass to grab the attention of the guests with the other.
“Dear honored guests, in accordance with my wager with Sir Felix, which I have honorably lost, I now must delight you with a song.” He beckoned to Juliet, who came to join him, taking baby George into her arms. “In honor of the special occasion, the song I have chosen is a classic.”
He bowed. “I present to you, my rendition of Diddle, Diddle Dumpling. I have taken the liberty to substitute the name George for John.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd at this choice, a children’s rhyme that had originated from hot dumpling sellers on the streets of London.
“Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son George,”Lord Cunningham sang. “Went to bed with his britches on.”
George’s little face lit up in the arms of his mother at the sight of his big father, singing and smiling at him.
“One shoe off, and one shoe on,”Juliet lent her sweet alto voice to her husband’s, making him grin at her.
“Everybody!” Lord Cunningham said, and the guests joined in to finish out the verse.
“Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son George.”
The baby’s face was delighted at all the adult voices singing the rhyme together with his name, and clapped his chubby little hands together.
“Once more!”
