CHAPTER EIGHT

Friday, September 10, 1824

Wren managed to avoid being wrangled into playing whist while the men were out hunting, but once evening fell and everyone congregated in one of the Farrows' parlors, she couldn't escape another game… or Viscount Stone. He'd sidled up to her while Miss Sharpe and her friends debated what they should play.

After yesterday's enlightening experience in the gardening shed, Wren didn't necessarily want to avoid Drake, but she also didn't want to accidentally alert anyone to their illicit affair by being overly familiar with each other in public.

" Buffy Gruffy is the winner!" Miss Sharpe announced with glee, and Wren withheld a groan. "The rules of the game are simple. One person will be blindfolded while the rest of us form a circle of chairs then exchange seats. The blindfolded player will approach a chair and push their knee forward to see if anyone is there. They will then ask three questions to determine who is in the chair while the seated player answers in a disguised voice. If the blindfolded person guesses correctly, they exchange places. If they miss, a forfeit must be paid before a new player is blindfolded."

Miss Sharpe grinned at the next part. "The forfeit is a kiss if you can ."

The ladies giggled as the men shared smirks of anticipation. For the forfeit to happen, a man and a woman would kneel backs to each other then they each looked over their opposite shoulders. The aim was for the man to kiss the woman before she evaded him by ducking or standing.

"This evening just got a lot more interesting," Drake said from her side. She met his flirtatious gaze with one of doubt.

"You realize this could spell disaster. If you and Miss Sharpe get paired together for a forfeit…" Wren left him to finish the rest of the sentence and consciously ignored the twinge of jealousy sprouting in her gut.

If she had to watch Drake and Miss Sharpe share a kiss…

It wouldn't mean a thing to her , she privately insisted.

Drake wasn't courting her. He wasn't her husband. They'd agreed to a mutually beneficial arrangement—one that had nothing to do with feelings such as love or affection, and everything to do with lust.

"Let's pray it doesn't come to that. Shall we join them?" He gestured ahead of him.

Lady Halston had elected to be the first blindfolded player, so the men of their party took their places in the circle. Laughter abounded as Lady Halston fumbled around before bumping into Lord Peregrine's knee. A few questions later, and she guessed correctly, handing him the blindfold.

A quarter of an hour passed before it was Wren's turn for the blindfold. Tying the black muslin around her head, she blinked behind the fabric, able to see dark shapes but not much else. She held her hands out and slowly shuffled forward.

A gentleman's leg stopped her progress, and Wren inhaled a steadying breath. She prayed the stranger's identity would be easy to guess. Her hands experimentally wandered up broad shoulders, taking advantage of the touch component of the game, while asking her first question.

"Are you attached in any way, sir?" If the man were married or betrothed, half of the participants would be eliminated.

"No." The falsetto set off another round of giggles. Well, that erased Drake as an option, too. She didn't think he could pitch his deep voice that high, no matter how hard he tried.

Rough stubble scratched her palms. Who needed a shave? Lord Baskin. Mr. Trewlove. Lord Cate. The other gentlemen of the party eluded her mind as did the potential beard growth on their cheeks.

Humming in her throat, Wren asked a second question. "How tall is your horse?"

"Fifteen hands." Again with the falsetto. And his answer failed to narrow her choices, too. Fifteen hands was an average height. She'd hoped the man might be extremely tall, requiring a taller horse to ride comfortably or vice versa.

They weren't allowed to ask personal questions such as height or eye color, but roundabout ways of finding out were acceptable, and Wren had one more chance to learn her stranger's identity before being forced to take a forfeit.

Why hadn't she paid better attention to the other men in their party?

Because she'd been distracted by one in particular. And now she was paying for it.

"Do you have any siblings?"

"Not one."

Miss Sharpe called out, "Now, you must guess his name!"

Wren's shoulders slumped. She had absolutely no clue who sat before her. Crossing her fingers, she prayed luck was on her side tonight. "Mr. Trewlove?"

A squeal of delight rose in the room, and before her mystery man could utter his response, Wren knew she'd lost. Whipping the blindfold off, Lord Langley's smiling visage became clearer. Apparently, she only had room for one rake in her life because Lord Langley was another well-known rogue. His reputation wasn't quite as illustrious as Drake's but only because he was several years younger.

"Miss Preston, I believe a forfeit is owed." He dipped his head, a slow perusal of her body following, before he knelt on the rug at her feet.

Spinning so her back faced his, Wren caught Drake's narrowed gaze as she lowered to the floor. Why did he look so uncharacteristically grumpy? It was she who had to evade an unwanted kiss!

Wait… why was it so unwanted?

Langley was a stranger, but she was spreading her wings during this house party. She'd already received one kiss from a rake. Where was the harm in adding another?

For years, Wren had secluded herself from games such as these, content with books and her own company. But that was the past. And possibly her future.

The present, however? It offered another chance for a kiss to remember, even if she wasn't necessarily attracted to the handsome dandy.

A little too… not Drake … for her liking.

"Everyone ready?" Miss Sharpe quieted the room, already stepping into her role as the future mistress of the Farrow home. "Lord Langley, Miss Preston, when I drop this ribbon, your time will begin. Ten seconds or until a kiss is claimed!"

The yellow ribbon fell, and Wren twisted, attempting to get her feet under her, when Langley's arm wrapped around her waist and held her firmly against his back—trapping her for the rough drag of his cheek before pressing his lips to her jaw.

A shout of celebration ignited amongst the group at Langley's triumphant claim. Wren smiled and resisted the urge to immediately find Drake in the crowd. His reaction to the kiss didn't matter.

If he had one.

Wren didn't know if it'd be better to see a glimpse of envy in his expression or joyful amusement like everyone else. Either way, she feared her reaction.

Pleased warmth at evidence that he may care for her more than he'd let on.

Or disappointment at proof that he truly cared for nothing more than a frivolous engagement.

Both denoted a deeper emotion than she should have for the viscount, which didn't bode well for protecting her heart.