Page 92 of Dick Stone, Regency Stud
“So this means that you not only do not understand dancing, the language of fans, and how to wear ladies’ clothing,” he said, eyeing her. “You’re unfamiliar with how to perform The Act.”
His distress must have shown on his half-lathered face because she grimaced in response.
“It’s not so hard, is it?” she said. “The girl just stands there or lies down like a gutted eel and lets the man work away?”
Edward sensed a headache coming on. What had he gotten himself into? She was an innocent in every way other than pick-pocketing and collecting information on the streets. Turning her into a courtesan would be a monumental undertaking!
“Hold still,” she said, advancing on him with the blade.
Edward held his breath when he felt her run the razor up his neck, each scratch of the knife making his scalp crawl with fear. He placed his hands at Tabby’s waist to steady her, and the progress of the blade paused.
“What’s that for?” she asked, looking down at him.
“I want to make sure you don’t fall and take my neck with you.”
She grabbed his hair at the crown and directed his head back so she could keep practicing. Edward struggled to contain a laugh, not wanting his cheeks cut to ribbons by his amateur barber.
“What’s got you laughing, Dick Stone?” she asked, her voice muffled by the tongue clenched between her teeth as she concentrated on shaving him.
“I’m happy to have you back, Tabby,” he said, not in the mood to dissemble.
“I think you’re done,” she said, squinting as she turned his head this way and that before releasing his hair.
“In that case,” he said, leaning forward to rub the stray lines of lather on her shirtsleeves, right into her belly. Really, it was his shirt, and he had another one she could wear. He could dirty her up.
She squirmed and fought him, then descended into giggles when he pretended to bite her through the linen. How he found his arms about her waist and she set hers around his neck, he didn’t know.
***
Following a most trying conclusion to their cleaning efforts, Edward wished he had something to drink.
Tabby had marched behind the screen with the dignity of one heading to the execution block unjustly, and he waited on the other side in terror as she sighed, gasped, and shrieked through her task.
When she emerged, looking worse for wear, she’d shoved the shaving supplies at him and gone to the vestibule of his rooms to lick her wounds.Metaphoricalwounds, he hoped.
Edward left some cheese and bread out for her supper and assumed that she’d find some place to nest for the night. She’d been an urchin accustomed to sleeping where she could safely close her eyes, after all.
Thus, he was surprised to discover her next to his bed that night, wearing her nightgown with the burn hole.
“Budge over,” she said, lifting the bedclothes.
Edward was aghast. Did she really propose to sleep here? In his own bedstead?
“Don’t look at me like that, Dick Stone,” she said. “I know this isn’t the first time you’ve shared a bed.”
“But we’ve plenty of places for you to bunk down,” he said, looking around the sparsely furnished rooms.
“We have one bed,” she said, gesturing to the place he was now lounging with a book.
“Wehave a bed?”
“Yes, one bed,” she repeated, ignoring his pointed questioning of their mutual ownership.
Ever the gracious host, Edward wiggled over towards the wall to make room for Tabby. It wasn’t unheard of to share beds with family, and as a soldier, he’d certainly bunked down wherever sleep could be found. Yet Tabby needed to know that what she was expecting was most unusual.
“I know good manners are new to you, but in fine households, men do not occupy a bed with an unmarried young woman,” he sniffed.
Tabby looked him in the eye from her spot on his pillow and pressed her feet to his bare shin.
