Lessons in Pleasure

Her smile faded into a look of surprise. “Oh, Sarah. I’m so sorry. I did not mean to be insensitive.”

“Nonsense,” Sarah said immediately. “Your words only brought her to mind. I find I have been thinking of her lately, being newly married. It is quite a change of circumstance.”

“Oh, it is wonderful, is it not? I thought I should never marry, but your father seemed relieved that I was firmly on the shelf. Silly man.”

Yes, Sarah’s mother had been seventeen at their marriage, so Lorelei’s age could only have been an asset in his mind.

“But what was it you wanted to know?” she asked.

“My father, does he ever speak of her?”

“No, but you know how quiet he can be. I do know that she died, of course, after a long illness.” She clasped Sarah’s hand. “It must have been so hard for you.”

“I was only seven. I remember very little,” she lied.

“Still.” Lorelei sniffed, and wiped a tear from her eye. “Oh, look at me! They say a baby makes you fretful, and I fear it is true. I will ask your father about her, if you like.”

“No, I don’t wish to distress him.”

Lorelei nodded. “When he mentioned her illness, he seemed very subdued. I think he must have loved her very much.”

“I’m sure.”

“Well, do have a treat,” Lorelei urged, reaching for a plate. “It will give me an excuse to eat more. And I’m sure you need your strength, too. No doubt you will also be enjoying motherhood soon if James is doing his duty.”

Though she hadn’t yet taken a bite of sweetmeat, Sarah choked.

Her dry throat seemed to send Lorelei into a swell of giggles. “The last time you were here, I was talking with your husband when you laughed at some ridiculous thing my cousin said. James’s eyes were drawn to you like a magnet. The man watched you laughing from across the room and completely lost track of our conversation! I wondered if you might not get pregnant that very night.”

“Lorelei!”

“Oh, pshaw. We are wi

ves now, Sarah. What is the point of being married except to enjoy it? Do you not feel so . . . whole?”

“Whole?”

“Yes! For so many years I was led about with blinders on, always aware of the hushed conversations that ended when I stepped into a room of women my own age. They had all married years before, and I was not one of them. I was some sort of bizarrely overgrown child to be patted on the head and guided back toward the younger girls so that the adults could talk. And unmarried women were even worse. How many conversations can one have about bonnets before one goes mad? And to be treated as if my circumstance might rub off and curse them to spinsterhood as well . . .”

“Lorelei,” Sarah sighed. “I had no idea.”

“I do not mind now, for I have your father and he is wonderful. Forty-two is not so old a man, I’ve found.” Her grin nearly split her face. “Not very old at all.” Her hand went to her belly, and Sarah watched her fingers curl gently over the treasure there.

If only Lorelei wasn’t married to Sarah’s father, she could answer so many questions. Do you enjoy your husband’s attentions? If so, how often? Does his touch make you shake and sob? Has he ever approached you in the morning?

But she could not ask those questions of her father’s wife, so she didn’t. And when she left an hour later, Sarah knew nothing more than she had when she’d arrived, except that there would be one more life affected by any disease she might eventually succumb to.

* * *

James Hood scowled at the man on the opposite seat of the carriage. “If that piece of rubbish imagines he can convince me to support his measure over Harding’s, he’s clearly picked up more than bad manners at that whorehouse he frequents.”

Montgomery snorted. “Syphilitic or not, he has high hopes for that bill.”

“I’d rather cross the aisle than throw my support behind him.”

“Come now, the bill simply expands—”

“He not only wants to send women of ‘doubtful morals’ to the workhouse but also he wishes to confiscate their children for factory work? He, who refers to the Priory as his London home? That level of hypocrisy begs a beating.”