Theresa could feel herself growing flushed, and nervously plucked at the netting of seed pearls on her headdress, so absorbed that she no longer felt it digging into her left ear. “What – what do you mean?”
“He knows women. All women. Knows exactly how to please…” She lowered her voice to a husky rasp. “Margaret said he knew her body better than she knew it herself. And he taught her things… things she’d never heard of, never even dreamed of.”
“Sweet Jesu…”
“Yes. I’ve never seen her like this before and I’ve known her since she was eight years old. She thinks of nothing else now but seeing him again. The horrible thing is -” another discreet cough as the Duke of Defries moved heavily past, fat face red and perspiring. There were too many people in the room – too many candles. Theresa could feel herself beginning to sweat.
“… the horrible thing is, she went up to his room last night, and was standing at his door, ready to knock, when she heard the voice of another woman inside.”
“Oh no!”
“Oh yes! And this woman was crying ‘David David David’ – over and over. I mean, Margaret said this woman was practically screaming with passion, out of her mind with pleasure!”
Theresa smothered a moan. “What did Lady Margaret do?”
“What could she do? She said she nearly screamed herself, but she was somehow able to get back to her room before anyone saw her. And poor thing, she’s been in such a state ever since. All she can think about, talk about, is making love with him again – though there’s little chance, since he has someone new almost every night. But she’s a complete wreck, can’t eat, can’t sleep, everything. You know.”
Theresa didn’t know, but she nodded. She was a virgin, awaiting her father’s finalization of her betrothal to the Marquis of Hartford, and she had no knowledge of the kind of sexual pleasure of which Beatrice was referring, nor the agony of its lack. But she could imagine…
