timing, Miss de Vere,” Charlie remarked as she lifted two dark glass bottles from the bandbox and brandished them in the air. “So what poison will you choose, my lovelies?” she asked, her topaz brown eyes dancing with merriment. “French brandy or port?”
Olivia carefully placed the tray on the cherrywood bedside table then tossed her dark braid over one slender shoulder. “Wh-what do you r-recommend? I h-haven’t tried either one.” Her manner of speech was an unusual combination of the lyrical and the discordant, her tone low and melodious with an appealing smokiness. Yet it was her stammer that drew attention; Sophie knew it tended to emerge when Olivia was nervous or extremely fatigued.
“My grandfather let me try a wee sherry at Christmas,” added Arabella. “But I’ve never tasted brandy or port wine.”
“Hmm. The port is probably a little smoother for unseasoned drinkers. But I’ve heard my brother Nate say French brandy is excellent. Perhaps we should all begin with that.” Charlie turned her bright gaze on Sophie. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes.” A burst of curiosity overcoming her trepidation, Sophie leaned across the quilted counterpane to examine the jumbled contents of the box. “So, what else have you smuggled in here?”
An enigmatic smile tugged at the corner of Charlie’s mouth. “Oh, this and that,” she said as she passed the bottle of brandy to Olivia to dispense. “All will be revealed after we raise our glasses—or I should say cups?—in a toast.”
“A toast to what?” Arabella asked as she took her brimming teacup from Olivia. Beneath her gold-rimmed glasses, her pretty nose wrinkled when she sniffed at the amber liquid. “You are being altogether too mysterious, Charlie.”
“To us, of course. And our new society.”
Sophie arched an eyebrow. “And does this society have a name?”
“It certainly does.” Charlie handed a teacup to Sophie and then beamed as she added, “Right, my darling girls. From this night on, we four shall henceforth be known as the Society for Enlightened Young Women, a society that will aim to provide its members with a stimulating education in all manner of worldly matters not included in this academy’s current curriculum. Such knowledge will, of course, be invaluable when each of us leaves here and is subsequently obliged to embark on a quest to secure an advantageous match during the coming Season. And as we all know how cutthroat the marriage mart can be, I, as head monitor, feel it is my incumbent duty to begin your supplementary tutelage sooner rather than later.” Her gaze touched each one of them. “If we are all in agreeance . . .”
Olivia nodded, Arabella murmured yes, and Sophie’s brow knit into a suspicious frown. “What worldly matters in particular?” she asked.
Charlie cast her a knowing smile. “Why, matters that all men, young and old, know about, but we, as the fairer, weaker sex, are supposed to remain ignorant of until we are wed. But by that time, I rather suspect it is too late. To my way of thinking, it would be much better to enter into marriage with one’s eyes wide open. And dare I say it, perhaps we might have a little fun along the way too?”
“Are . . . are you referring to sexual c-congress?” whispered Olivia, her doe brown eyes widening with shock.
“Yes, I am. Among other things. The art of flirting is also an essential skill any wise debutante should have in her arsenal, and naturally, it is a precursor to any activity of an amorous nature.” Charlie turned to Sophie and raised a quizzical brow; her eyes glowed with anticipation. “What say you, my friend? You haven’t responded yet.”
Sophie worried at her lower lip as she considered Charlie’s proposal. Even though she hailed from Suffolk and possessed a rudimentary knowledge of “sexual congress”—as it pertained to the mating rituals of farmyard animals, at least—there was still much she did not know about the ways of the world—and the male of the species—compared to Charlie.
Indeed, Lady Charlotte Hastings was the only one in their close-knit group who had several brothers—one of whom was a well-known rakehell. And she also had a bluestocking aunt who was purported to be a “liberal thinker” and “a woman ahead of her time.” For these reasons, Sophie didn’t doubt for a moment that Charlie possessed unique insights into the male mind and a singular knowledge of taboo topics.
Unlike her confident, highborn friend, Sophie was not a member of the haut ton. But if Charlie was prepared to equip her with