Noble Destiny by Katie MacAlister

three. I remember quite distinctly how Matthew laughed when Nurse blamed me.”
    The silent, still figure of Lady Caroline, dressed charmingly in the wide panniers, rose silk, and silvered lace of her mother’s era, came to life again under the influence of that familiar, if annoyed, voice. “Char? Is that you?”
    The portly man moved from the shadow of the balustrade onto the middle of the steps. “Yes, it is me, just where the devil have you been? I waited at that gate for an eternity! You were supposed to unlock it at half of midnight, Caro! It’s well after midnight now!”
    â€œI’m terribly sorry, but dearest Algernon insisted on having a waltz with me. Charlotte”—Caroline squinted to make out her friend’s face in the shadow—“I thought your costume was to be of Good Queen Bess? You appear to be dressed as a man.”
    â€œYes, yes, I changed my mind. I thought I would be less conspicuous if I were dressed as Henry VIII.” She twanged the leather protrusion curving gracefully from her groin. “No one who knows me would ever expect to see me in a codpiece.”
    â€œNo, indeed,” agreed Caroline with alacrity. “Say what you will about your propensity for shocking the ton , codpieces are simply not part of your everyday apparel.”
    â€œAnd yet, in fairness,” Charlotte admitted, “I must say it is very handy. Because I was so late waiting for Mme. Beauloir to deliver my costume, I did not have time to dine at home. Tremayne Three was kind enough to give me one of the horses’ apples, which fit quite snugly in the codpiece. It is of no wonder to me that men wore them for so many years—they’re much handier than a reticule!”
    The two women considered that piece of male apparel in silence for a moment.
    â€œWhy do you suppose they call it a codpiece?” Caroline asked. “It doesn’t look anything like a fish. Yours looks like…well, rather like an overly ambitious squash.”
    â€œIt was the finest codpiece Mme. Beauloir had,” Charlotte answered with dignity, stroking the smooth leather and brass object that, she had to admit, did somewhat resemble a squash. She was about to defend her codpiece’s honor further, but the noise and light spilling out as a verandah door was opened returned their attention to the circumstance at hand.
    â€œTake my arm,” Charlotte demanded, “and pretend I’m a gentleman.”
    â€œYou don’t walk like a gentleman,” Caroline objected.
    Charlotte stopped at the top of the steps and pulled Caroline to the side where an urn erupted in a screen of greenery, providing a modicum of privacy. “What are you talking about?”
    â€œNo one will believe you’re a man if you walk like a woman. Surely you must realize that. It’s just common sense. Men don’t sway their hips when they walk.”
    â€œSome do,” pointed out Charlotte, squirming slightly as she adjusted her codpiece. “Drat the thing, it’s tickling.”
    â€œTrue, but those aren’t gentlemen we are supposed to know. What are you doing now? Char, you can’t do that in public, someone will see you!” Scandalized, Caroline hurried to stand between her friend and the nearest group of people enjoying the cool night air.
    â€œI can’t help it,” Charlotte muttered, her chin jammed against the starched linen of the ruff. “This codpiece is most uncomfortable. It’s…moving.”
    â€œWHAT?”
    â€œShhh,” Charlotte hissed, glancing around quickly before returning her attention to her nether regions. “It’s as if there’s something in there. Something other than my handkerchief, that is.”
    â€œMoving?” Caroline asked through her teeth, smiling a bit wildly at a couple dressed in red dominoes as they strolled past. “What do you mean moving? What could be in there that could