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329 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published February 1, 2002
Pg. 284 - 286:
"Yes, yes, I see your point, Dickon. Very well. We shall have a watchword. Any suggestions as to what it might be?"
"Testicle!" piped up Charles.
Noble frowned at him.
"'E means tentacle, m'lord. 'Ad 'is 'alf day yesterday and saw one of them octopantses at the zoological gardens."
"No, I mean testicle," argued Charles.
Noble considered his footman. "Is there any reason why you wish the watchword to be testicle, Charles?"
The younger man sucked in his cheeks and bounced on the balls of his feet. "No, my lord."
"Just like the word, do you?"
"Yes, my lord."
Noble stopped pacing in front of the footman and narrowed his eyes at him. "There's nothing you should have told me that you haven't, is there, Charles?"
Charles's eyes widened. "Me, my lord?" he squeaked.
"Mmm," Noble said, giving him a close look, then continued his pacing. "Very well, our watchword is testicle. Should you encounter someone who does not answer your cry of 'Halt, who goes there?' with a snappy 'testicle,' you will restrain him and shout for assistance."
"A lady wouldn't say it," Charles said.
Noble spun around to face the interruption. "What's that?"
"You asked me if I has a reason for choosing the word testicle, my lord. I thought of one. A lady wouldn't say it. Therefore, any lady villains we encounter wouldn't say the watchword."
"Er...quite right. Are there any other questions?"
"They'd say something else," Charles said. Noble ignored him and gazed down the line of footmen.
"Like whirlygigs," Dickon said with a nod. "That's what my mum used to call them."
"Dusters," said Crouch. "Jenny Hills. Flowers and frolics."
"Yes, quite. Are there any--"
"Gooseberries," said one of the Runners.
"No, they's jingleberries, they are," said another.
Noble rubbed his still-aching head. The pain seemed to be increasing again.
"Les accessories," said Tremayne Two in a perfect French accent.
"Orchestra stalls," offered Crouch.
"Twiddle-diddles. A lady would surely say twiddle-diddles," Charles suggested, looking up as the door opened. "Oh, my lady, could you answer a question? if you were asked to say the word--"
"Charles!" Noble bellowed. "That will be all! You are dismissed, all of you."
"If I was asked to say what word?" Gillian asked as the footmen filed out. Noble glared at the men and dared them to answer her.
"Whennymegs," Crouch muttered as he closed the door behind him.
Gillian turned to Noble. "Whennymegs? Oh, testicles. What about them? Are yours all right, my lord?" She turned her attention to the front of Noble's buckskins, concern writ across her face. "Did you damage them last night? You were quite enthusiastic, husband, but I thought everything looked hale and hearty this morning. Shall I check them for you?"
She started reaching for the buttons on his breeches. Noble caught her hand. "Everything is fine there, thank you. Did you do as I asked?"
“I have done it before, you know . . .I couldn’t help myself. Sometimes I just had to, you know. It feels so different, so… so oh, I don’t know how to describe it. I suppose I didn’t have to, as you well know the feeling.”
Noble felt as if someone had slapped him in the face with a wet fish. A salmon, perhaps. Or a very large flounder. He gaped at her.
“I will have names, Gillian, names of the men with whom you have disported yourself in such a fashion.”
Gillian looked at him in surprise. “Names of men? I never did it with men, Noble.”
As we are now betrothed, do you think you could use my Christian name?”
“Certainly, my lord. What is it?”
“It’s Noble.”
Gillian smiled. “I am sure it is. Your parents would hardly bestow an unsuitable name on their firstborn son. What is your name?”
Wessex closed his eyes briefly. “My name is Noble.”