Chapter 6

Chapter Six

“ W ould you mind carving the beef for me, your Grace?” Miss Pembleton’s voice was soft and genteel, her expression the picture of innocence.

Luke paused; his forkful of food tantalisingly close to his mouth. He forced himself not to sigh as he put it back on the plate, and dutifully carved the beef for Miss Pembleton, as was only proper.

“Thank you, your Grace.” Miss Pembleton indicated that he had placed enough on her plate.

“Is that all you require, Miss Pembleton?” Luke asked, trying to ignore the grumbling in his stomach.

His head felt sluggish and slow. I cannot remember when I have been toasted so much nor the last time I drank so much wine. He shook his head, willing it to clear. Patterns seemed to float across the corner of his vision as cutlery clinked together.

He forced the fascinating patterns away, refusing to indulge it. He needed food, he was ravenous and the last thing he wanted was for his stomach to announce its hunger to the others at the table.

“For now, yes.” Miss Pembleton took a miniscule bite of her meal, seeming to savour the tiny morsel.

Luke turned back to his own fork, once more raising it to his mouth. The smell of the beef washed over him, his mouth watering. He opened his mouth, ready to finally take the bite.

“Your Grace, I am afraid I cannot reach the bread. I should hate to reach across you. Would you mind passing me a roll or two?” Miss Pembleton’s voice cut in.

Confound it. Luke put his fork back on the table and forced his jaw to unclench. “Of course, Miss Pembleton.”

He reached towards the bread and put two rolls on her plate. Without waiting for a reply, he reached for his fork and just as it was at his mouth, he heard Miss Pembleton’s voice once more.

“Actually, Your Grace, I do think I need a little more beef.” Miss Pembleton batted her eyelids at him.

“But there is still beef on your plate.” Luke’s fork was almost in his mouth as he nodded towards the woman’s very full plate.

“That is not very proper of you sir. Surely you do not wish to be ungentlemanly?”

“I- No of course not.” Luke sighed and put his fork back on the plate, and hastily carved Miss Pembleton some more beef.

Hastily he returned to his own plate finally taking a bite of his meal. His success was short lived because a moment later Miss Pembleton said, “Your Grace, would you be a dear and serve some vegetables?”

“You are doing this deliberately.” Luke hissed, almost glowering at her and then catching himself.

With considerable effort, he forced his face into what he hoped was cool disinterest. The look on Miss Pembleton’s face told him that his attempt had been less than successful.

“Whatever do you mean?” Miss Pembleton asked, a hand going to her chest, her tone the very picture of innocence.

“Every time I go to have a bite of my food, you decide that you need more. Your plate is practically drowning in beef and bread rolls. You are doing this just to spite me.” Luke nodded towards her overflowing plate.

“That is a rather rude accusation. I am simply trying to be polite.” Miss Pembleton took a bite of her food, appearing to savour each mouthful before she turned to him. “I should hate to be improper and reach across you. I know how much you care for the rules of society.”

“You are being childish.” Luke grumbled, hating how petulant he sounded.

“I am not the one who is losing his temper because a lady is behaving as she should. Honestly, you should know better, Your Grace.” Her eyes sparkled with challenge and mischief.

Luke took a breath, he would not rise to her bait. “What exactly are you trying to prove?”

“What makes you think I am trying to ‘prove’ anything? After all I am simply being polite. Is that not what you wish me to do?” She canted her head towards him

“You are being pedantic.” Luke pointed out.

“I thought it was you who said we should blindly follow the social formalities.” Miss Pembleton answered. “Or are you starting to see that blindly following such things may not always be the best thing to do? Perhaps I am simply trying to educate you on the dangers of an excess of propriety.”

Miss Pembleton took another, small bite of her food. “You seem to think I cannot be a proper lady, but I would be only too happy to demonstrate just how proper I can be. After all, you do seem to be enjoying my display rather a lot.”

Luke turned from her, clenching his jaw. Despite himself, he found himself wanting to smile at her spirit. What is wrong with me? He would not let her see that she had amused him, no doubt that would only worsen her behaviour.

He ate as quickly as propriety allowed, anticipating that Miss Pembleton would continue to interrupt him during their meal. It became a sort of game. A frustrating game, but a game nonetheless.

When he at last managed to finish, he felt an odd sense of satisfaction and found himself grinning proudly at Miss Pembleton. He realised what he was doing and stopped, hastily looking away.

“Why, Your Grace, if I did not know better, I would almost say you were enjoying yourself.” Miss Pembleton’s voice was tinged with laughter.

“You sound as though you thought I were incapable of such a thing.” Luke raised an eyebrow at her.

“I will admit, I find it a tad surprising.” Miss Pembleton shrugged, taking another of her silly little bites of food.

“Well, I am full of surprises.” Luke replied. Where did that come from?

Despite the chaos and the noise of everything, Luke found that he was in fact enjoying himself. Even with Miss Pembleton continuing to needle him. It must be the wine.

Duke Emberly stood up and everyone else followed suit. “Duke Warren, Lord Baine, we have a tradition at Emberly castle. All our guests are required to play charades after our first dinner together.”

“I warn you, it gets rather competitive.” Duchess Emberly added.

“I thank you for your invitation, but neither my brother nor I know how to play.” Luke admitted.

Various people gasped around him, and he felt his cheeks redden.

“What do you mean? Surely you played such games as children?” Duchess Caden asked.

“No.” Rodger answered, beet red as he looked at Luke.

Luke hoped that he did not look as embarrassed as his brother. “Our parents felt that the playing of games would prevent us from maturing into respectable members of society.”

“Well then, we must remedy that.” Lady Marie said, glancing at Rodger and Luke.

“What other childhood pleasures did you miss out on?” Lord Peter asked.

“We simply have to introduce you to–” Lady Natalie began as Lord Arthur exclaimed “Oh and we must play–”

“- settle down everyone.” Duke Emberly raised a hand. “They are here for a fortnight. There will be plenty of time for us to re-introduce them to childhood frivolity and fancy. For now, let us retire to the drawing room and we shall teach you how to play charades.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Luke noticed Miss Pembleton watching him, a suspiciously satisfied look in her eyes. What does she have planned?

He followed the group into the dining room and sat down as Duchess Emberly began to explain the rules.

“Firstly, let us split into teams. I say we do it down the middle. So this half of the room shall be one team, and this half the other.” Duchess Emberly gestured with her hands.

It was with some relief that he saw that he was on the opposite team to Miss Pembleton. As was Rodger.

“The object of the game is to act out a phrase that the other team gives you, and for others to guess what you are acting out. You get a point for each correct guess. The person with the most points wins.” The Duchess continued to explain.

“You cannot speak or use any sounds if you are acting out the phrase.” Duchess Caden added.

“Oh, and no pointing at things around the room!” Peter added, glaring at his twin.

Duchess Emberly looked between Luke and his brother. “It may be easier if we demonstrate. Emily, why don’t you start?”

Duchess Emberly whispered something into Miss Pembleton’s ears and the two giggled for a moment. She has rather a sweet laugh. Luke shook his head.

Miss Pembleton held up five fingers and a chorus of voices called “five words.”

She held up four fingers. “Fourth word.”

She smiled and nodded. Luke watched as she began to wave her arms around, looking somewhat like a lunatic. Voices called out their guesses but she shook her head. Then she began to mime roaring.

“Wild?” Luke found himself calling out to his own surprise.

“You are not on her team!” hissed Lord Peter. “Do not guess!”

Miss Pembleton’s head snapped towards him, but she nodded. Then she up five fingers. The fifth word. She dropped to her hands and knees, and began to throw her head back and forth. She reminded him of a horse.

“Horse!” yelled a voice.

Miss Pembleton nodded enthusiastically. Then she stood and looked pensive. She held up two fingers, signalling that it was the second word.

She began to mime throwing a rope, and tugging it hard. Luke frowned, watching as the woman struggled with an invisible creature. Miss Pembleton threw herself into the charade with no embarrassment. He found himself smiling as he watched her.

That damned wine. A voice called out, “to tame a wild horse!”

Miss Pembleton stopped miming and turned to the voice, indicating that they were right.

“That is a point for us!” called Duchess Emberly happily.

“Duke Warren!” Duke Emberly called. “Now it is your turn to give Emily a prompt.”

“I am to whisper in Miss Pembleton’s ear?” Luke felt panic seize him. “I cannot do that.”

The thought being so close to her that he could breathe her in, or feel the heat emanating from her body... Absolutely not.

“But you must!” Duchess Emberly indicated the sand timer on the table. “Preferably before time runs out, or I shall have to accuse you of cheating.”

“Rose!” Duke Emberly shook his head at his wife.

“I shall write it.” Luke announced. “Perhaps you might lend me pen and paper?”

A look crossed Miss Pembleton’s face, and for a moment, he was sure it had been panic, but when he looked back at her, the expression was one of impatience.

Hastily he scrawled ‘To Ingratiate a Bluestocking.’

He moved towards her and as he handed the slip of paper to Miss Pembleton the smell of earth and lavender washed over him. He inhaled, colouring when Miss Pembleton looked at him. It matches the colours of her voice.

The thought made a moment of panic flare within him. He had not thought about the odd patterns for years. He hastily moved away. She glanced at the paper in her hand, frowned and then looked at him.

She pursed her lips and then held up four fingers. Then a second finger. And began acting as though she were drunk. Luke frowned. What is she playing at?

“Drunk?” someone called.

To his surprise, Miss Pembleton nodded. He wanted to say that that was not what he had written, but that would have been improper and unkind. Instead, he bit his tongue.

Clearly, she had decided to ignore his prompt. He could only assume she meant it as some kind of slight. He frowned at her. Perhaps this was just something she did? Maybe he could ask someone?

No, that was ridiculous. He shook his head, but as the evening progressed and they played more rounds of charades, Miss Pembleton kept doing the same thing. Sometimes she would act a word or two from his initial suggestion, but more often than not the entire phrase would be different.

If she wants to play games, so be it. She has already shown how childish she can be, and I do not need to engage with such behaviour.

As he lay in his bed later that night, he found himself replaying the evening in his head. “What on Earth does it mean? And why can I not stop thinking about it?”

He scowled and drew the covers around him. “Let her play her silly little games. I do not care. It is beneath me. Games are not going to endear me to her cause.”

I am simply trying to show you the dangers of an excess of propriety. Unbidden he smiled, and then scowled. Wretched woman. The sooner they left this place, the better. All he needed to do was get through the next fortnight.

He could do that. And then he would never have to see Miss Emily Pembleton again.