Never Kiss a Toad

Chapter Sixteen

When she heard Toad's name and her own, any impulse to show herself had disappeared.

"I tell you, when I think of that sweet girl, I want to go over to Paris and punch Abersham," had said.

His twin, Viscount Stocke, had commented, peaceably, "He's not doing anything we haven't done ourselves, Longford. We were much worse at that age. One opera dancer at a time? It's almost celibacy."

"We weren't promised from the cradle. And who needs an opera dancer if they can have Sally Grenford?" From the clinking of glass, they had come in after the decanters, and then the voices had faded towards the door.

"Which is rather the point," Stocke had argued. "He is in Paris; she is here. And the older generation are very tight-lipped. Did he blot his copybook with her, do you suppose?"

"Probably. I heard a story about why he was sent down from Cambridge, but who knows whether it is true." The door to the sitting room had closed, shutting off any further remarks, leaving Sally in the silence she craved, but with her mind in turmoil.

Opera dancers. Opera dancer. Only one at a time. Was she supposed to be grateful for that? She hadn't been able to get the thought out of her mind all night, or all day today.

Longford and his brother were right. Toad was in Paris, and she was here, and it was all her fault. If she had never tempted him, never offered herself to him, he would be back at Cambridge, or here in London for the Season. And if she had agreed to marry him when he asked, they would be together.

But for how long? If he could forget her so quickly, how long would he have been faithful to her had he stayed?

That did it. Now she was in tears again. Just the thought of Toad with anyone else made her want to smash things. Instead, she put her head down on the cushion next to her and howled.

"Ah, sweetheart, let Grandmama kiss it better."

At the much-loved voice, Sally jerked up her head. "Grandmama? Are you looking for Mama?"

The Duchess of Winshire moved the damp cushion and sat on the sofa, holding out her arms. "I came to see you, my dear. Your Mama said you had the headache when you came back from the station."

Sally rested her head against her grandmother's shoulder. "I did have the headache," she said. "A megrim named Abersham."

Grandmama patted her back and made soothing noises, and Sally found herself blurting out the stories she had overheard. Not just last night, but at other events, and from Papa and Uncle Nick.

"I love him, Grandmama," she confessed. "I love him so much, and I cannot imagine marrying anyone but him, but he does not love me. How could he love me and do... all those awful things?"

Grandmama sighed. "Men are odd, my dear, and do not think as we do. And Abersham is very young. He says he loves you, and I believe him, but whether it will last... He may fall out of love. Men do, and more easily than women, I think."

"Then what am I to do, Grandmama?" She sat up and narrowed her eyes. "Wait. When did Toad tell you he loved me?"

"I have been in Paris, and seen your young man."

"You have seen Toad? How is he, Grandmama? Is he well? Does he miss m—everyone?"

"He is studying hard, he tells me, and certainly, his teachers seem pleased with him. I heard good reports, Sally. He is unhappy to be separated from you."

Sally's heart lurched. "Truly?"

"Yes, truly. I have told him what I told you. You are both very young, and I will not lift a hand to end this separation, even if I could."

Sally protested. "You were no older than I when you fell in love with Grandpapa Winshire." was also Elf's grandfather, for he had married during his exile after he and Eleanor Creydon fell in love. He had been only a second son, and her family had promised her to the Duke of Haverford.

"And you loved him your whole life, Grandmama, and he you. Until, at last, you were able to marry when Papa's father died."

Grandmama shook her head a little. "Dear Sally, it was nearly forty years. Perhaps I still loved the boy who left England, and perhaps he still loved the girl who refused to run away with him. But we had both changed. We were different people. How fortunate we were, to fall in love all over again."

The silly tears welled again. Would Toad go on thinking of her as little Sally, the child he played with? If he did not come home for five years, or ten, or—heaven forbid—forty, would she be a stranger to him?

"If you will not help, Grandmama, what am I to do? I cannot even write to him without checking every word with my father. And I am sure Toad will soon tire of having to censor his thoughts."

Grandmama smiled and patted Sally's shoulder. "I did not say I would not help. I will offer you what I offered young Abersham. If you are still of the same mind once you are of age, I will support you. And meanwhile, I will be courier for the occasional letter between you.

To read what Toad really thought; to write without having to censor every word... but, "Papa will never agree. At first, he would not let me write at all. He will never let me write unsupervised."

"We shall not bother your Papa with the information. Men are not always right, you know. Now dry your eyes, Sarah, and make yourself cheerful. You will have your friends here before long, will you not?"

"The Beauties Club, yes. We six are going walking in the park with some gentlemen."

"Including my grandson, Elfingham, beyond a doubt."

The duchess pulled some papers from her reticule. Even as Sally's heart lurched and she could not help but smile, she rolled her eyes at a letter addressed, in familiar handwriting, to 'The Duke's Delightful Daughter.'

"Meanwhile, my dear Sarah, go and read your letter from Abersham. And when you reply, bring it to me, and I shall send it to him."

It didn't change anything. Toad was still in Paris, still cavorting with scarlet women instead of with Sally as he ought, but suddenly, Sally felt a great deal better.

"Thank you, Grandmama," she said, and hurried off to do as she was bid.