CHRYSTABEL LOVED the nighttimes.
In the quiet of the master chamber, her dear Joseph could always hear her. It didn’t quite make sense, which was why she sometimes teasingly accused him of selective listening. But he said it had to do with competing sounds. That during the daytime, there were noises, always noises: servants going about their work, animals in the fields, birds in the skies, dishes and silverware at mealtimes, and the children all talking at once. With more than one sound, he couldn’t distinguish any of them.
But within the thick, solid walls of their room, the nighttimes were blessedly quiet. And he also declared that her voice was the one he could hear most easily, especially when there were no competing sounds. The perfect pitch.
That did make sense to her. Because they’d always, always been perfect together.
But now he had nodded off, though she’d expressly asked him not to. She closed the door behind her with a smart thump that startled him awake. “I told you to wait up.”
He yawned and rolled over. “Has Violet fallen asleep yet?”
“Yes. Finally.” She deposited a leather-bound book on the counterpane. “I got it.”
“What?” He rubbed his face, then struggled up onto his elbows to see better. “What is this all about?”
She untied the sash around her waist. “Aristotle’s Master-piece,” she said in a deceptively casual tone.
“Holy Hades. The marriage manual?” He bolted upright. “Where on earth would Violet get such a thing?”
“Language, Joseph! No wonder Rowan has learned such habits.” Shrugging out of her dressing gown, Chrystabel straightened her chemise, then went to work on unpinning her hair. “And I’ve no idea where Violet got the book. But I mean to give it back to her before she realizes it’s missing—we’ve this night only to peruse the material and ensure it’s appropriate.”
“Appropriate?” He cast the ordinary-looking tome a thunderous glare. “How could it possibly be—”
“Ah, Joseph, don’t be so old-fashioned. I know the book is supposed to be scandalous, but Violet is old enough to learn the facts—and if half of what’s said about the Master-piece is true, it will explain things much better than we could ever bring ourselves to do.”
Chrystabel saw no need to mention their younger daughters were reading it as well. Her beloved Joseph wasn’t always as open-minded as she. Often he needed some time and guidance to come around to her way of thinking.
Settling herself in the soft feather bed, she retrieved the book in question and laid it on her lap. “Frankly, I’ll try anything to discourage her preposterous commitment to spinsterhood.”
“Spinsterhood! Why, she’s not even eighteen.”
“I know, darling. But Rose has been hard on her. Violet has tremendous strength of character, but she’s not without her weak points. And clever Rose knows exactly how to exploit them.”
Joseph crossed his arms. “I still don’t see how letting Violet read this unseemly book will improve matters.”
Chrystabel sighed. Men. They had to have everything spelled out for them. “What does Violet love more than anything else in the world?”
“Learning, of course.”
“Indeed. And what knowledge might she hope to gain from a marriage manual?”
“Um…knowledge about marriage?”
“Precisely. She’s taking an interest, Joseph. Will you be the one to quash that interest? Don’t you want to see your daughter happily married?”
“Of course I do—but not at the expense of her innocence.”
Chrystabel rolled her eyes. “Her innocence will remain intact. We’ll make sure of it.” She took a candle from the side table. “Or do you not plan to read it with me?”
Joseph’s eyebrows quirked with sudden curiosity. “I suppose it is my fatherly duty…”
Stifling laughter, Chrystabel leaned over and planted a kiss on her husband’s cheek. Then she opened the book.
“Oh my,” they said in unison.