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On the Twelfth Day of Christmas [CD]- Xmas 1677

Charles Whitehurst

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Charles was stretched out on his new leopard divan.  It had been a purchase from the curiosity shop, along with others.  There had been the ivory tusk, which he had given the King.  It was a rather awkward gift to give.  Walking around with an elephant tusk lent itself to all sorts of jests.  Still, it was a fertility symbol and could be carved into wondrous ivory miniatures if the King or Queen so desired.  Then there was the hunter spear that had killed the leopard, or so the shopkeeper claimed.  He had given that to the Duke of Ablemarle, his superior in the Guard.  It seemed to be the sort of thing a paper warrior might like.

As for Catherine Sedley, there was the  engraved correspondence box.  He had told her that she needed a special box from which to write him passionate love letters.  After all, she was hopelessly in love with him, or so the game went.  He found himself chuckling at it.  He could not give her a ring or something that looked like he was in love with her.  That would not be consistent with their game.

He still had those Venetian masks and he was certain that there were a few more ladies he wished to gift them too.  He worried about giving one to his Davina, for it would risk revealing her connection to him.

It was the smell of cinnamon cakes coming out of the oven that distracted him.  He thought he heard the running footsteps of Frances.  "Those are mine," he shouted as he took to his feet and ran for the kitchen.  It had become a game for them whenever Cook made some cakes.

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