A Transgender Regency Romance - Constantine has been raised as a boy, can she adapt to her new status?

Connie had been hoping her father would end up licking the butter off the back of his hand, but the attentive head footman had already made a napkin available for the purpose.

The adults at the table, with the possible exception of Big Gus, pretended nothing had happened, but all four children were struggling not to laugh.

Ten-year-old Thomas, catching Connie's eye, smirked and winked. She blinked twice back at him, wrinkling her nose at the same time. She'd learned to do that at Harrow rather than a blatant wink that might get one a reprimand from the very strict House Masters. Thomas was clearly delighted, and she forgave him a tiny bit for being the eldest son she no longer could claim to be.

Two years younger and directly across from Connie, Little Gus could hardly sit still, wiggling all over in his glee. He even successfully imitated her double-blink and nose-wrinkle.

Between the boys, Big Gus allowed his chest to move in a silent chuckle while his eyes twinkled at her, the only sign that any of the adults had noticed the Marquess's error.

The Marquess cleared his throat. "Everyone is here, dinner can be served," he said, dispensing nods around the table. The boys snatched at their buttered bread before it could be taken away, but Miss Vivian spoke quietly, reminding Alex and Connie, "Keep your hands in your laps while being served, and don't grab at things."

The bread, butter and pickles were moved out of the way, and the soup bowls placed in front of each diner. Tonight was artichoke soup. Connie had only lately decided this was actually edible. At Harrow, soup was usually cabbage or leeks, and the richness of the Marquess's table often offended Connie's simpler tastes.

Not that she was particularly hungry; her nervous anticipation of this meal and her debut in a gown had quite stolen her appetite. But Father's reaction as she entered had been quite gratifying, as had her brothers' appreciation of her accomplishment. Even now, Little Gus made faces at her while stuffing his own with his rescued bread and butter.

Connie made sleepy-eyes at him, but he didn't recognize the signal that he should cease his misbehavior, and instead, he opened his mouth to show her the half-chewed contents. Two places over, Alex made a sound of disgust, but Connie only lifted an eyebrow.

The Marquess, as soon as he had had a few spoonfuls of soup, cleared his throat to speak. Everyone turned their faces toward him. "It is gratifying," said the Lord of the Manor, "to have the family all at table together."

Almost everyone murmured some sort of agreement. "It is especially pleasing to me," the Marquess continued, "that the ladies are all looking quite lovely this fine evening. In particular, my youngest daughter has joined us in her proper person and is showing her mother and step-mother both proud." He made a formal-seeming lean in her direction, adding, "Constance."

She collected herself enough to bob her head back at him, rather than nodding. "Father," she said. "I am gratified that my appearance pleases you."

"Oh, well-spoken," said Miss V at her elbow. Her brothers both made faces, and Alex on her other side seemed to sniff at her, but her father smiled.

Connie lowered her gaze and put her hands in her lap, demure as any dutiful miss, but she was smiling, too. "I'm still his favorite," she told herself silently.

*

For his part, the Marquess had been dumbstruck when Connie entered the dining room. This lovely girl was the sullen boy who had raged at everyone for the last five months? How had the transformation been accomplished in only seven hours? Genevieve must be a witch, he thought.

He had recognized Connie's longer hair as being the wig Caroline had made of her own hair when styles had changed from long flowing locks to the still current mode of hair barely to the shoulder. He'd never expected to see that shade of pale ginger again.

He sighed. He'd blundered badly trying to transform Constance into Constantine, and it had cost him dearly. Someone of his rank could get a divorce only by an act of Parliament, and that had required money and favors. It was still costing him since his agreement with his ex-father-in-law required him to pay his ex-wife's expenses up to £1000 per year, besides having returned her dowry (which included a small house in Greenwich) and given her a one-time settlement of £4000.

Not that he couldn't afford that, but after ten years, the woman had not remarried, and the annual cost continued. But why should she remarry, she lived quite well on her allowance, renting out the house in Greenwich and keeping a larger home in London with lengthy stays in late summer and around Christmas at her father's homes in Hampshire and Oxford.

She somehow contrived to spend every farthing of her £1000 every year, too. And of course, Genevieve had to have an allowance just as generous as that of the ex-wife, and she spent hers, also. Though a lot of it went for gifts, Genevieve was famously generous, and this reflected well on him.

Expenses for Alex's coming season would probably run toward £2000, and it might be he would be lucky if they were not more. Gowns, jewelery, lessons in deportment, dancing and other skills, court costume, riding habits, gifts taken to hostesses—it added up quite quickly. Though he had not had such expense before, Paul had taken pains to lay it out before him.

And a dowry. That would be a very large bite. Not less than £10,000 would do for the daughter of a marquess, and Paul had suggested a number closer to £30,000, and he'd have it all to do again for Connie in two years. There were major expenses for the boys as well, but those were years away; the costs of sending a son to Harrow were negligible compared to financing a London season for a girl.

Well, with the wars in Europe over, his investments in Portugal, Flanders, Spain, Barbados, and Canada should be returning better profits. And his shipping interests, trading in China, America, and Africa, would flourish without so many privateers afloat.

Scotland remained a problem, and his Indian holdings were troubled by unrest among the natives. He should look around for other investments, perhaps the new railroads and canals. With Paul to do figures and Genevieve's connections and insights, he'd been able to grow his wealth over the last ten years, even during the uncertainty of war.

His wife's knuckle applied to his ribs under the table got his attention, and he turned his head in her direction. With a nod and a smile, she indicated that he should look toward his daughters. He did, observing how lovely they looked, so young and fresh, and so much alike.

Alex had more resemblance to his side; his mother and sisters had the same grace in the way they held their hands and moved their features. Connie looked a bit more like her mother, Caroline, with delicate brows and full lips. She could be a real beauty in a few more years.

And though she seemed a bit subdued, and he caught her watching her sister for cues on how to eat delicately, she had a way—an expression?—of signaling her intent to do a thing rightly and well. She learned that at Harrow, I'd wager, as did I, he thought proudly.

*

What a mess and bother, thought Constantine, having to pick apart your fish before eating it with only one hand above the table. If he were allowed to debone the eel with a knife and a proper fork, eating it would be no effort at all. But using only a small two-pronged implement to prise out flakes of flesh and convey those directly to his mouth became tedious.

It was also annoying that Alex, sitting right next to him, seemed able to do it with ease, enjoying larger and more delicious-looking fillets of the tender meat with every bite while he was eating only fishy crumbs. He tried not to let it be obvious that he was watching her every move, trying to suss out her method while Alex distracted him with her chatter.

"The eels are not from the river but from our own ponds, did you know? They are fed especially by the garthman to be sweeter and more tender than wild fish. Don't you think?"

"I try not to," said Connie seriously. "I've been assured it's not ladylike."

Alex laughed, and Connie smiled." You'll have to say that to Mother Genevieve, one day, to hear her laugh, too," said Alex. "She'll probably add that you don't want to let the men catch you at it. Thinking, that is, especially if it is thinking something they would not like."

Alex paused with a particularly juicy-looking morsel of fish on her fork. Connie eyed it with envy. "You're cleverer than I am, aren't you?" Alex accused.

Connie made a face. "I don't think that is true. You're older and know more."

"I know more about being a girl," conceded Alex. "And about how to eat fish." She dimpled and popped the morsel into her mouth.

She had noticed his struggles then, how mortifying. Glumly, he poked his serving with the too-delicate tool.

"You have to know where the bones are going to be," Alex said. "Then put your fork into where they join together at the backbone, tines flat, then push outward, turning the fork as you do." She demonstrated, ending with a meaty bit perched on the tines.

Connie stared at her, fascinated with his sister's facility with this arcane art.

"You try it," she suggested. "The boys are tearing the fish apart with their hands," she gestured toward their brothers across the table. "They'll have fish grease on them up to their ears. You don't want to do it that way."

"Um," he murmured. Well, seriously, he didn't. It looked like fun, but he knew if he got grease on his gown, he'd never hear the end of it. Besides, Father was watching. He stabbed the fish in the appropriate spot Alex had shown him and wrenched a chunk of fish meat loose from the carcass.

"That's the way," said Alex. "Well, sort of. There's no need to take vengeance on the poor fish." She giggled.

Constantine chewed the morsel of fish in triumph, swallowed, and commented, "You've no notion of the crimes that fish had committed. Barratry, I shouldn't wonder."

Alex giggled again. "What's barratry?"

Connie attempted another dismemberment of his fishy foe and succeeded. "Arson at sea with the intent of collecting insurance on the cargos."

Alex's peal of laughter startled everyone at the table. Mortified, the girl covered her face with her hands. Connie leaned away from his sister and looked at her sideways before going back to attacking his fish.

*

Big Gus watched the sisters with a great deal of interest, especially Connie. Eight years ago, while recovering from minor wounds, he had taught the boy Constantine how to jump a horse. Could this lovely girl be the same child?

He also watched the Marquess who couldn't seem to get his fill of observing his youngest daughter. Constance made a joke, and soon the whole table was laughing. She was amusing as well as being quite pretty. She might even grow into a real beauty.

Gus eyed the Marquess again. They were second cousins, and he was almost twice the girl's age. But neither should be an impediment when it came time for Malvoir to seek a husband for this girl-who-used-to-be-a-boy. If the girl had to go into Society to seek a match, there would be scandal.

But scandal could be avoided if matters were kept in the family. And Gus had to find some way to secure his future now that war heroes, especially broken ones, were no longer in demand.

The girl would be fifteen next summer, and the older sister might already be married by then. Fifteen wasn't too young for a marriage that would keep her from having to face scandal.

*

"You almost got us in trouble," Alex accused her sister later when they had returned to their new room to discover servants trundling in and out with furnishings, linens, clothing, and accessories. The stood well out of the way but watched with interest.

"Us?" protested Connie. "I'm not the one that laughed like a strangled chicken."

"I did not!" Alex pushed her shoulder.

Connie leaned then straightened back up. "You did. Thomas asked if he could have the egg for breakfast."

Alex pouted. "Big Gus commented, too."

"He said that goose eggs are always fowl."

"Then Little Gus got the giggles. It was almost a disaster."

"Father was smiling. He didn't seem displeased," Connie noted.

"You shouldn't have made me laugh like that, though. Genevieve pinched me to get me to stop."

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean for you to be pinched."

"Well," said Alex. "It didn't hurt much, but thank you for the apology."

"The fish is the one should have been pinched."

Alex looked at her sideways. "What? You mean caught up for its crimes?" She giggled. "Well, it had been netted and gilled."

"Ah, but did it face an inquiry?" said Connie. "At school, when I got caught for doing something wrong, you can be sure the Masters properly grilled me."

"It was a baked fish," Alex managed to say between giggles.

"I suspect bribery," said Connie. "That fish got off lightly browned."

Alex laughed out loud again then turned her face to the wall because the servants were looking at her. "You are too clever," she accused Connie.

"I'm not, you know," she said. "One can't be too clever. It's an oxymoron."

"No," said Alex. "You're doing it on purpose."

"What?" asked Connie. "You can't be clever by accident."

"Exactly," Alex retorted. "And you're too pretty, as well."

"I might agree with you there," Connie admitted. "But I assure you, I'm not being pretty on purpose."

"Hmph," said Alex.

"Besides," Connie went on. "You have two dimples, one on each side. I have only one on the left."

Alex stared at her as Connie demonstrated that only one dimple made an appearance when she smiled. "How are you doing that?" Alex asked.

"What? I'm smiling, but I've only the one dimple."

"Yes, but it's on the right now. Did you switch sides?"

"Your right is my left," Connie said, rolling her eyes.

"Not if we stand side by side!" Alex pointed out.

They both broke into giggles. "Now you're making me laugh," Connie complained.

"Well, I guess you're only half-clever since you only have half a set of dimples."

"Stop it," Connie complained again. "Or I'll have to tell you what pokery is!"

Alex looked at her suspiciously. "What's pokery?"

Connie made two fingers on each hand stiff and poked her sister under the ribs. "Poke, poke, poke," she said gleefully.