The Viscount Who Loved Me (Bridgertons, #2)(80)

Edwina managed to hold her tongue for about four seconds before she asked, “Has Mother been in to speak with you?”

“Not yet.”

“She must, don’t you think? Tomorrow is your wedding day, and I’m sure there are all sorts of things one needs to know.” Edwina took a big gulp of her milk, leaving a rather incongruous white mustache on her upper lip, then perched on the edge of the bed across from Kate. “I know there are all sorts of things I don’t know. And unless you’ve been up to something I don’t know about, I don’t see how you could know them, either.”

Kate wondered if it would be impolite to muzzle her sister with some of the lingerie Lady Bridgerton had picked out. There seemed to be some rather nice poetic justice in such a maneuver.

“Kate?” Edwina asked, blinking curiously. “Kate? Why are you looking at me so strangely?”

Kate gazed at the lingerie longingly. “You don’t want to know.”

“Hmmph. Well, I—”

Edwina’s mutterings were cut short by a soft knock at the door. “That’ll be Mother,” Edwina said with a wicked grin. “I can’t wait.”

Kate rolled her eyes at Edwina as she rose to open the door. Sure enough, Mary was standing in the hall, holding two steaming mugs. “I thought you might like some hot milk,” she said with a weak smile.

Kate lifted her mug in response. “Edwina had the same notion.”

“What is Edwina doing here?” Mary asked, entering the room.

“Since when do I need a reason to talk with my sister?” Edwina asked with a snort.

Mary shot her a peevish look before turning her attention back to Kate. “Hmmm,” she mused. “We do seem to have a surfeit of hot milk.”

“This one’s gone lukewarm, anyway,” Kate said, setting her mug down on one of the already-closed-up trunks and replacing it with the warmer one in Mary’s hand. “Edwina can take the other one down to the kitchen when she leaves.”

“Beg pardon?” Edwina asked, vaguely distracted. “Oh, of course. I’m happy to help.” But she didn’t rise to her feet. In fact, she didn’t even twitch, save for the back and forth of her head as she looked from Mary to Kate and back again.

“I need to speak with Kate,” Mary said.

Edwina nodded enthusiastically.

“Alone.”

Edwina blinked. “I have to leave?”

Mary nodded and held out the lukewarm mug.

“Now?”

Mary nodded again.

Edwina looked stricken, then her expression melted into a wary smile. “You’re joking, right? I may stay, right?”

“Wrong,” Mary replied.

Edwina turned pleading eyes to Kate.

“Don’t look to me,” Kate said with a barely suppressed smile. “It’s her decision. She’ll be doing the talking, after all. I’ll just be listening.”

“And asking questions,” Edwina pointed out. “And I have questions, too.” She turned to her mother. “Lots of questions.”

“I’m sure you do,” Mary said, “and I’ll be happy to answer them all the night before you get married.”

Edwina groaned her way upright. “This isn’t fair,” she grumbled, snatching the mug out of Mary’s hand.

“Life isn’t fair,” Mary said with a grin.

“I’ll say,” Edwina muttered, dragging her feet as she crossed the room.

“And no listening at the door!” Mary called out.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Edwina drawled. “Not that you’d talk loudly enough for me to hear a thing, anyway.”

Mary sighed as Edwina stepped out into the hall and shut the door, her movements punctuated by a constant stream of unintelligible grumbles. “We shall have to whisper,” she said to Kate.

Kate nodded, but she did feel enough loyalty toward her sister to say, “She might not be eavesdropping.”

The look Mary gave her was dubious in the extreme. “Do you want to swing the door open to find out?”

Kate grinned despite herself. “Point taken.”

Mary sat down in the spot Edwina had just vacated and gave Kate a rather direct look. “I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

Kate nodded.

Mary took a sip of her milk and was silent for a long moment before she said, “When I married—for the first time, not to your father—I knew nothing of what to expect in the marriage bed. It was not—” She closed her eyes briefly, and for a moment she looked to be in pain. “My lack of knowledge made it all the more difficult,” she finally said, the slowness of her carefully chosen words telling Kate that “difficult” was probably a euphemism.

“I see,” Kate murmured.

Mary looked up sharply. “No, you don’t see. And I hope you never do. But that is beside the point. I always swore that no daughter of mine would enter into marriage ignorant of what occurs between a husband and wife.”

“I’m already aware of the basics of the maneuver,” Kate admitted.

Clearly surprised, Mary asked, “You are?”

Kate nodded. “It can’t be very much different from animals.”

Mary shook her head, her lips pursed into a slightly amused smile. “No, it’s not.”