“By this these angels from an evil sprite,
Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.
License my roving hands, and let them go
Before, behind, between, above, below.”
From the silence billowing through the room, she’d properly shocked the gathering. Isobel bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. When she looked at the doctor, he and Finn shared amused grins. Even Lady Jane tried to fight off her own expression of mirth, while Isobel’s aunt and William were apparently rendered speechless.
“Perhaps while you’re all recovering from that poem, I should recite another.”
William slowly stood. “Isobel, I rather think—”
“It’s no bother, Wills. I memorized a handful of poems.” She gave him a wink and then said, “This next one comes from Ovid. He’s long been thought of as one of the best writers in Latin literature. The piece I’ll recite is called In Summer’s Heat from his book of poetry, Amores. This is about his love affair with a lady named Corinna.”
“Oh, dear God,” Finn whispered, but his words were quickly overtaken as Isobel began.
“Stark naked as she stood before mine eye,
Not one wen in her body could I spy.
What arms and shoulders did I touch and see?
How apt her breasts were to be pressed by me?
How smooth a belly under her waist saw I?”
“Damnation, Isobel, stop at once!” William’s entreaty echoed through the stunned silence.
But she merely smiled at him and continued,
“How large a leg, and what a lusty thigh?
To leave the rest, all liked me passing well;
I clinged her naked body, down she fell.
Judge you the rest. Being tired, she bade me kiss.
Jove send me more such afternoons as this.”
“That’s enough!” William strode over to her position and grabbed her upper arm.
“Of course that’s enough,” she calmly said in the face of his ire. “That’s the end of the poem.” Deliberately baiting him, she batted her lashes. “Wasn’t that romantic, though? Imagine a man having the confidence and freedom to write an erotic poem about one of his lovers.”
A scandalized cry issued from her aunt. “Oh, please, you must stop talking.” She pressed a hand to her flaming cheek. “This is not right, and in such mixed company. That you’d even know such things…”
“I told you to behave tonight.” William renewed his grip on her arm and shuttled her across the floor. “There’s no choice now but to inform Andrew about this stunt; he’ll hear about it in any event.”
Well, drat.“It was all in fun.” She wrenched out of her brother’s hold. “Why is it that no one in my family can joke about anything?”
“It’s all right,” Finn interrupted, wheeling his chair over to their location. Amusement danced in his eyes. “You have my respect, Cousin Isobel. I’ll need to talk with you later on where you learned such things.”
She nodded, but her gaze jogged to Doctor Marsden. When their eyes locked, shock and admiration filled those mossy depths. Elation filtered through her chest before annoyance swept it away. Her attention flicked back to William. “Are we done here?”
“Yes, of course, but don’t leave this room.”
As if I’m a child of nine instead of a woman grown of eight and twenty.Bitterly disappointed in her family, Isobel flounced across the room and seated herself on the sofa farthest away from the rest of the company. The next poet would have one devil of a time regaining the attention of his audience.