Page 12 of The Duplicate Duke

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The coach hit a rut, bouncing its occupants off the cushions.Gwen hit her head on the window shutter, her hand flailing for the leather hand grab near her head.“For the love of Hercules, I swear my brain is scrambled.”

Wickton laughed and gave her an elbow in the side.“Your son needs a tougher skin,” he said to her mother, sitting across from them.

“Or a thicker skull,” answered Mama with a smirk.

Gwen stuck her tongue out in response.

“What shall we do to pass the time?”asked Wickton.“We’ve played I Spy enough for a lifetime.”

“Can you sing?”Gwen asked the viscount.

“I’m told I can hold a tune.”

“We’ll sing ‘Oranges and Lemons’,” she said.“I haven’t heard that one since I was a child.Let’s see if we remember the words.”

“Oh, I’ll begin,” said Mama, “for I’m certain I remember the opening lines.”She began in a clear voice:

Gay go up and gay go down,

To ring the bells of London town.

Oranges and lemons,

Say the bells of St.Clements.

Bull’s eyes and targets,

Say the bells of St.Margret’s.

“That’s all I can remember off the top of my head,” her mother concluded.

Gwen looked at her cousin, who shook his head, so she took up the next verses:

Brickbats and tiles,

Say the bells of St.Giles’.

Halfpence and farthings,

Say the bells of St.Martin’s.

Pancakes and fritters,

Say the bells of St.Peter’s.

She paused.“I know pancakes and fritters are for the baker.Halfpence and farthings are for the banker.What about brickbats and tiles?”

“Builders,” supplied the viscount.

“Ah,” said Gwen before she continued:

Two sticks and an apple,

Say the bells of...

She tapped her bottom lip with her forefinger, and Miles supplied, “Whitechapel.”

“Very good,” she commended and sang on:

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