Chapter 1

Andrea McAllister was one of those nubile females that seemed to vibrate with fresh pink skin even in the faded light of cheap candles. She was not the prettiest of her family of five young female siblings all out at the same time to the dire predictions of their caustic tongued Aunt Matilda. Andrea was reluctant to answer questions about her age directly because of the instant condemnation of older female offspring slightly above the ideal age for marriage making it difficult for properly aged girls to present their credentials.

It seemed that lately most of the weddings about the region involved young ladies in the fifteen and sixteen bracket. It was a situation that was intolerable to those girls with unopened cunts in the seventeen to twenty-one categories. Of course, beyond twenty-one, everyone considered the unfortunate young lady in the limelight to be a lost cause and a certain spinster-to-be and relegated to the children's table at all family gatherings.

It was a fact that Miss Andrea was just turned twenty-one and the thought of age vexed her quite thoroughly. She knew her sisters all between sixteen and twenty were afraid to speak her age out loud for fear of her boxing their ears with her skillful fingers. In honest truth she could have passed for a young lady of sixteen without any difficulty because the lack of worries failed to crease her classic features.

Her eighteen year old sister Millicent was dancing a waltz with a young officer from their father's old regiment and she was laughing so loud that even the Duchess raised her glasses to her face to see what was causing the commotion. Andrea was instantly mortified even though she was at the opposite end of the room. Her dance card was a virgin just like her and she was trying to hide it so it would not arouse comment from the other old spinsters surrounding her in the "wallflower" holding area.

She reached down to scratch a terrible itch right on her ankle making her wonder if some small insect had attacked her without giving any warning at all. When she straightened up her vision was obscured by the odd features of a strange man standing scant inches from her person.

"My dear Miss Andrea, I fear you do not remember me but I was called upon on occasion to tend to you when you were quite young and still sleeping in your parent's bedroom. My name is Oliver Hyde, Doctor Oliver Hyde of King's Cross Hospital and I am at your service."

It was strange that she should be talking to a stranger even though he professed a certain connection to the family. Still, he had an agreeable demeanor and she was without other distractions and after all, it was a party.

"How do you do, Sir. I have no recollection of our prior consort but I have no doubt it is as you say. How do you find the music provided by the friends of the Regiment? Were you connected to the Regiment in your physician capacity?"

He knew she was filling in with "small talk". A process so antiquated that it was almost meaningless to the younger generation.

"I assure you, young lady, I was quite familiar with your posterior in its natural form and even did minor surgery on your poor toe which was bitten by that nasty beast of a cat that acted like it owned the entire estate. I was the Regimental surgeon for a while in the Indies but mostly for benign problems and not related to the terrible happenings of war and chaos."

The older man laughed gently and sat on a low stool directly in front of Andrea. It was faintly suggestive because his chin now was dangerously close to her heaving bosom which was still angry at being confined inside the corset proscribed by her Aunt and society in general. She used her fan strenuously because the proximity of his lips in that region was disconcerting to say the least.

"I say, Doctor Hyde, these parties are so much alike. I think there is a set arrangement of the dance tunes and that the conductors have the entire affair timed to end precisely at a set time convenient to their musicians. Do you agree with that premise or do you have a different opinion?"

The middle-aged man shifted slightly and she became aware of the fact that his trousers were extraordinarily filled to capacity in the area when his genitals would be present. It set her pulse to racing and she knew her blasted slit was leaking just like those other times when she started thinking such nasty thoughts.

"I would defer to your opinion on that subject, my dear, because I must admit I have little knowledge of them. Ever since my wife passed these two years recent, I have not been much of a social creature and I have been accused by friend and foe of having a dour attitude on life. I must confess that a similar thought has passed my mind and I think it is more a result of music by the hour rather than any ulterior motive."

Andrea found the Doctor an easy person to talk to and in point of fact it never occurred to her that she was a female and he was a male. They were just two people conversing in the midst of a group of dull and uninteresting people with no concept of serious conversation. It came as a surprise that when the next waltz came up on the program, he asked her point blank with a studied look direct into her startled eyes,

"May I have the pleasure of this dance, Miss Andrea? I have not danced for quite some time, so forgive me if I err with my feet. I will strive to be as cautious as possible."

She nodded her head and dropped her eyes so he could not see the confusion in her mind. She took his hand and followed him out to the dance floor. Andrea was certain everyone in the large room was focused on them and looked for some fault. Actually, their move to the dance floor was little noticed and only one of her sister wondered what in the world her sister was doing with that old man out on the dance floor.