"I suspect your sister became what she was long before Lord Norcourt came along," Mrs. Harris said dryly. When Mr. Godwin cast her a sharp glance, she shrugged. "She's newly married. Surely she won't take up with a rakehell
now
."
Mr. Godwin's snort said he wasn't so optimistic.
Wonderful. If Anthony couldn't behave himself around his former paramour, Mrs. Harris would throw him out on his ear, and that would put an end to the nitrous oxide party.
They rounded the house and entered a garden where refreshment tables had been set up. Beyond it, a stout wooden fence surrounded a pasture of cows. The girls were too caught up in attacking the refreshments to notice, but Madeline spotted the other creature in the pasture at once, standing near a copse of trees.
"You have a rhinoceros!" she exclaimed, half in awe, half in delight.
"I do indeed, the only one living in England at present." Mr. Godwin led them to the fence. "Clarabelle is so mild-mannered I needn't even keep her caged. As you can see, she roams free with my cattle."
Lucy Seton had followed them. "Aren't you afraid she'll eat your cows?"
"Rhinoceroses are herbivores," Madeline explained. "They only eat plants."
"That horn looks as if it could tear a cow apart," Lucy said, clearly skeptical.
"It could," Anthony put in. "That's probably why rhinoceros horn is so greatly prized by the Chinese for its medicinal properties."
Madeline glanced at him, which proved a mistake. Bad enough that Lady Tarley clung to him like a barnacle. But when the woman looked at Madeline, then plastered her breast against him while leaning up to whisper in his ear, Madeline wanted to slap her. Especially after Anthony followed her gaze and laughed.
Madeline hated being laughed at. "I thought the Chinese prized it because they consider it an aphrodisiac."
Anthony's eyes danced. "That, too. How good of you to point it out."
Lady Tarley giggled, but Mrs. Harris cast Madeline a warning glance that made her curse her quick tongue.
"I understand that their skin is virtually impenetrable," Mrs. Harris broke in before Lucy could ask for an explanation. "Is that true, Mr. Godwin?"
"Hardly." He launched into a description of the characteristics of rhinoceros skin, which Madeline would generally find fascinating. But she couldn't take her eyes off the cooing Lady Tarley, whose whispered comments to Anthony were met with dry smiles and quiet remarks.
When he caught Madeline glaring, he quirked up an eyebrow, as if he'd guessed what tumultuous emotions roiled through her. Then he skimmed his eyes lower, reminding her of his promise to have her craving pleasure day and night. Just the touch of his gaze down there brought the craving back so intensely she had to squeeze her thighs together to quell it.
Curse him. And Lady Tart, too, for pressing her bosom possessively against him. Grinding her teeth, Madeline turned her back on them, yet she couldn't banish the image of them together. Why did this bother her so? It wasn't as if he'd returned Lady Tarley's fawning attentions. If he'd been any other man, she wouldn't have thought twice of his polite behavior to his overly clinging hostess.
But he wasn't any other man, drat it. He was Anthony, who'd kissed and caressed her and made her feel desire for the first time. Who was also now making her feel jealousy for the first time— over
him
, an unrepentant rakehell who routinely seduced women for entertainment! What was she thinking?
Yes— what
was
she thinking to resent the one woman who might draw his attention away for the remainder of the day?
That steadied her. She must be sensible about this. Only schoolgirls flew into the boughs over a man. She was a naturalist, drat it. Once she got what she needed from the viscount, she would be done with him.
"Shall we move on, ladies?" Mr. Godwin said.
Lucy and Elinor slid up on either side of her to capture her arm. They held her back until Mr. Godwin headed off with Mrs. Harris, and Lady Tarley with Anthony. Only then did they follow, a good distance behind the others.
Lucy bent her head close to whisper, "Lord Norcourt thought you were thirty years old. Can you imagine that?"
Well, now she knew how he saw her— as some pathetic spinster long in the tooth, a challenging female to seduce but no more.
You've known that all along. Why can't you get it through your thick head that this is only an exercise for him? For both of you?
"But we set him straight," Elinor added in a whisper. "We made it clear you're not as old as all that. You're certainly not yet on the shelf."
That brought her up short. Why would the girls—
Oh, dear. She noted their conspiratorial expressions and groaned. The last thing she needed was two little matchmakers. "You needn't have bothered. His lordship doesn't care what my age is, and I don't care what he thinks it is."
"So you don't care he was asking questions about you?" Lucy said slyly.
"Questions?" Madeline's throat tightened. "What sort of questions?"
"About your suitors." Elinor smiled. "Whether you had any or not."
She stared at them. "Why would he ask that?"
The girls exchanged knowing glances.
"Don't be silly, girls." Her heart beat wildly despite her protest. "Lord Norcourt isn't looking for a wife, and even if he were, I wouldn't be his choice."
"I wouldn't be too sure of that. Lord Norcourt— "
"And what are you ladies whispering about so intently?" Anthony asked.
The group ahead had halted before a paddock and now eyed them with curiosity.
Lucy answered. "We were asking Miss Prescott"— she paused, then brightened— "what an aphrodisiac is!"
Oh, Lord, that was almost worse than the truth.
As Mrs. Harris lifted her eyes heavenward, Anthony chuckled. "And what did she say?"
Madeline glared at him. "That it's something believed to enhance a beast's natural instincts."
A simpering laugh escaped Lady Tart. "Not just beasts. Men use it, too, you know." The woman gave Anthony a lascivious glance that made Madeline want to scratch her eyes out. "Although certain men don't need it."
"I'm sure every man could use help occasionally," Madeline snapped.
"Madeline, for heaven's sake, this is not remotely— " Mrs. Harris began.
"Do tell, Miss Prescott," Lady Tart cut in. "Have you a great deal of experience with men and what they require help with?"
The girls might not have understood the exchange, but they could tell she was being attacked, and they flanked her protectively. "Miss Prescott knows a great deal about everything," Elinor shot back. "She's a wonderful teacher."
"Indeed she is." Mr. Godwin shot his sister a disapproving glance. "So I'm sure she'd be happy to identify the lovely creature in the paddock before us."
As the others turned to look, Madeline smiled gratefully at him for saving her from herself. She mustn't let that woman provoke her. Especially with Anthony smirking over the interchange.
She stared at the paddock. "That's a zebra. I've never seen one in the flesh."
"Looks like a painted horse to me." Elinor peered at the stately animal prancing through the grasses. "Can you ride it like a horse?"
"I honestly don't know," Mr. Godwin answered. "He's a new acquisition."
"I'll bet Tony could ride him," Lady Tarley cooed.
"If your brother will saddle him," Anthony drawled, "I'll certainly try."
At the speculative glint in his eye, Madeline tensed. This was the sort of challenge to appeal to him, like that bacchanal at Eton that got Anthony into trouble as a lad. But given what she'd read about futile attempts to break zebras to the saddle, he'd be daft to try it.
Especially if he was merely doing it to impress that ninny, Lady Tarley.
"This isn't like riding a goat, you know," Madeline cautioned. "Zebras are truly wild, Lord Norcourt, and by all accounts cannot— "
"A goat?" Anthony's eyes narrowed. "You knew about me and the goat?"
Her stomach knotted. "Everyone knows. You're famous for it." Or was that only in Telford?
Oh no, please let it be a tale widely told.
"Famous for what?" Lady Tarley queried.
"Riding a goat, apparently," Mr. Godwin answered.
"A schoolboy indiscretion." Anthony searched her face. "I nearly got sent down from Eton for that prank. Didn't I, Miss Prescott?"
Something in his tone alarmed her. "I-I wouldn't know."
"Yet you knew about the prank itself."
"I'm sure I read of it in some gossip column," she said hastily.
"My curiosity is thoroughly roused, Lord Norcourt," Mrs. Harris remarked. "Why were you riding a goat?"
She could have kissed her employer for drawing Anthony's attention. After another speculative glance at her, Anthony relented to the girls' demands that he reveal all. "It happened my third year at Eton. My friends and I…"
Madeline listened with half an ear, having already heard the tale. Lady Bickham had delighted in telling the populace of Telford how her nephew had degenerated after leaving her care. How Eton had corrupted him, and how he would have been better off if he'd remained with her and her husband.
As a child of eight, Madeline hadn't understood why Lady Bickham made such a fuss over the incident. She'd thought it amusing that he and his friends had ridden a goat. But once she was old enough to understand what a bacchanal was, she'd known exactly why Lady Bickham had reacted so ridiculously. The woman had no sense of humor whatsoever, and she certainly couldn't appreciate a Dionysian revel.
"After some matron saw us dancing about our bonfire and riding the goat," Anthony was saying, "she ran screaming to the local vicar that Satan himself had appeared in Eton town."
Madeline noticed that he left out the part about the tavern wenches cavorting with him and his friends.
"It seems there was a superstitious belief that the devil rides upon a goat," he went on. "Anyway, we were discovered, much shouting ensued, and my friends and I received a caning for alarming the local folk."
"But what is a bacchanal?" Elinor asked.
"You know, it was in that book about myths," Lucy reminded her. "It's when the Romans used to drink mead and go about naked to worship Bacchus."
"Who is Bacchus?" one of the other girls asked.
"The god of debauchery, I think," Lucy answered.
"The god of wine and intoxication," Madeline corrected her. "Although too much wine often leads to debauchery. Not to mention other idiotic behaviors that a sober person would never engage in."
Anthony scowled at her before turning his gaze on Lucy. "Do you even know what debauchery is, Miss Seton?"
"I doubt it," Mrs. Harris retorted. "And I doubt any explanation would be wise, my lord. Come, girls— "
"I beg to differ," Madeline cut in. This was yet another way women were poorly prepared for their futures. "Knowledge is never unwise. The girls will hear such words bandied about in society. Shouldn't they know their meaning?"
As Mrs. Harris regarded her with a considering gaze, Mr. Godwin said, "Surely such discussions should wait for a husband's gentle guidance."
"What if the husband isn't so gentle?" Mrs. Harris surprised Madeline by saying. "Miss Prescott is right. Knowledge is never unwise." She fixed Anthony with an intent gaze. "Tell the girls what debauchery is, Lord Norcourt."
He tugged at his cravat. "I…well…perhaps Miss Prescott should explain. I'm sure she could do it far better."
Before Madeline could speak, Mrs. Harris squeezed her arm to silence her. "You're the one who brought up the bacchanal. The girls should hear it from
you.
"
"Fine." He glanced at the girls. "First, what do you ladies
think
it is?"
"Something naughty," Lucy said.
"
Very
naughty," Elinor added, as if that explained everything.
When Lady Tarley giggled, Anthony glared at her. "And what did
you
think it was when you were a girl, Kitty?"
Kitty blinked. "I don't remember. I had a vague notion it included beds."
As the girls nodded, Anthony sighed. "Debauchery can mean a number of things— drinking strong spirits to excess, gambling, gluttony— but people generally use it to mean…well…that is…"
When Mrs. Harris laughed, Madeline shook her head. "And you were worried he might not be discreet." She rolled her eyes. "For heaven's sake, the big, bad, immoral rakehell can't even explain debauchery to some girls."