Page 60 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
“Well, that would be Mr. Gibson’s doing,” Mabel said. “And the poor man, spending an entire day on horseback.”
Paulette looked out the window. She’d thought—hoped—he might come inside for part of the journey. Nothing would happen, but she felt a need to see him, to know this was real.
“Thank you for taking me,” Jenny said.
Mabel patted the girl’s hand. “She’ll replace our Mrs. Everly, won’t she, Polly.”
Mabel was trying to coax a smile. Jenny obliged, looking half-hearted.
“If she tries to replace Mrs. Everly, we’re putting her to work in the dairy.”
Mabel leaned forward. “Is there a dairy at Little Norwick?”
“I don’t know. I suppose there could be.”
“Fresh cream and good home-made cheeses. Imagine that, Jenny.”
“Who is Mrs. Everly?” Jenny asked.
“Why, she was Miss Paulette’s companion. When Paulette’s mother died, Mrs. Everly took over teaching Paulette how to be a lady.”
Neither woman had taught her anything about being a woman. Paulette had asked about what went on in a bridal chamber, but both her mama, and then later, Mrs. Everly had mumbled and stalled until they thought Paulette’s curiosity had passed.
It hadn’t passed. She’d consulted with Mabel, who’d offered no answers either, perhaps because she didn’t know herself, though how could that be at her age?
The coach rattled on, and when Mabel began to snore, Paulette crossed to the rear-facing seat. “You are much younger than me, I think, Jenny.”
“I’m sixteen, miss.”
“I imagine…you might know more, in some ways, than I do. Having lived in London.”
“Not much that is pleasant, miss.”
Oh. She fumbled around in her mind for words. She did not wish to stir unpleasant memories.
“What is it you wish to know, miss?”
Mabel snorted loudly and went back to sleep.
Paulette lowered her voice. “The wedding night. No one will tell me exactly what goes on. Though I have an idea.”
Jenny’s gaze was solemn. Paulette clasped her hand. “I do not mean to stir bad memories. Forgive me.”
“That man didn’t enter me in the laundry, though it were close.”
“Oh, thank God.”
“It weren’t God. It were Mr. Gibson.” Jenny squeezed her hand hard. “With a kind man, it is pleasant, leastwise that’s what the girls say.”
Jenny shared the whispered details of her education, her early years crouched in the corner of a room warmed by many bodies, some of them engaged in carnal acts. “I did see his…his shaft, miss. It did seem very big, but they say it does fit, and some say they even do enjoy it if the man knows his way about a woman’s body, and if they like him.”
Heat blasted through her, remembering the kiss that had been more than just one kiss.
“And pardon me saying, but I think Mr. Gibson does care for you.”
Her body thrummed with excitement, or need, or both.
Across from them, Mabel stirred and yawned. “I wonder if there is any of that loaf left. I’m ever so hungry.”
