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The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2(49)

By:Sorcha MacMurrough




He was terribly fond of them both. He just prayed they both knew what they were letting themselves in for, because he was sure their path was not going to be a smooth one.





Chapter Twelve



Sarah and Alexander lingered around the Maypole all day, laughing, teasing, and enjoying the excellent music provided for them by various players from the district. Were it not for what had happened earlier in the morning, Sarah would have said it was the most perfect day of her life.



But in her experience, happiness often came with a price attached. She kept waiting for him to pitch forward and have another episode like the one he'd had the night before. She almost dreaded it when, after they had packed up everything and headed home in the gig, he said he would play the pianoforte before supper.



But nothing dreadful happened. He played some popular country tunes, and when she asked him to play her brother's aria and sing it, he said he could not recall all of it, and moved on to a rousing rendition of The Blacksmith's Song which had her giggling and blushing.



After they had eaten, and the rooms had been tidied, Caleb and Jenny prepared a light supper and cleaned up the remnants of the May Day feast. Alexander asked Sarah to read to him, and chose The Country Wife by Wycherley.



"Er, it's not exactly suitable for a vicar's sister," she said wryly.



"I know, but it's pretty amusing."



"Don't tell me, you played Horner in a college review."



"How did you guess?" He smiled.



"Because my brother-" She stared. "What did you say? Can you recall the college?"



He thought for a moment. "No."



"The words?"



Alexander's face lit with pleased recognition. "Let me think. Horner comes in and says, 'A quack is as fit for a pimp, as a midwife for a bawd; they are still but in their way, both helpers of nature.' Then the Quack comes in and he asks, 'Well, my dear doctor, hast thou done what I desired?'"



She found the correct place in the book and delivered the Quack's line. "I have undone you forever with the women, and reported you throughout the whole town as bad as an eunuch, with as much trouble as if I had made you one in earnest."



"But have you told all the midwives you know, the orange wenches at the playhouses, the city husbands, and old fumbling keepers of this end of the town? For they'll be the readiest to report it.



"Then they chatter on for a while about the nature of gossip in the town, and I say, 'Doctor, there are quacks in love as well as physic, who get but the fewer and worse patients for their boasting; a good name is seldom got by giving it one's self; and women, no more than honour, are compassed by bragging. Come, come, Doctor, the wisest lawyer never discovers the merits of his cause till the trial; the wealthiest man conceals his riches, and the cunning gamester his play. Shy husbands and keepers, like old rooks, are not to be cheated but by a new unpractised trick: false friendship will pass now no more than false dice upon 'em; no, not in the city.'"



"Very good. Can you remember any more?"



He laughed. "A few of the more bawdy scenes which I will not subject you to."



"I don't mind in this case."



"Ah, but I do. The next thing you know, you'll be asking me to recite passages from Tom Jones and Candide."



She laughed. "There are worse things to read than bawdy novels, I'm sure."



"And far better ones." He shook his head in bemusement. "Well, I can see I won't win any prizes for sainthood."



"Neither would Jonathan, even after becoming a vicar. We are none of us perfect, but better tolerant than priggish."



"I wouldn't want to be accused of impertinence."



"Never that. You enjoy amusing things, but you're not a rattle."



"Only because I can't see. I'm sure if I had a chance to observe people, I should find an infinite variety of things to criticize and mock."



Sarah smiled and stroked his cheek. "I'm sure not. Your discourse seems most sensible, for the most part, and I don't think you the type to be deliberately cruel."



"If I am no Snake, you are certainly no Lady Sneerwell."



"And what play is that from?" she tested him.



"The School for Scandal by Sheridan."



"Very good. And one of my brother's favorites, by the way."



"I can see we have a great deal in common."



She nodded, and took up another stocking to darn. "Yes, it's odd how well you seem to have known each other. Perhaps you were acquainted with each other at Oxford before the war? But I can't for the life of me recall anyone whom the Rakehells mentioned as being so particularly an intimate friend apart from each other.