Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

ALEXANDER

“ W e shall meet in the hexagon room for a game in one hour,” Lady Tottenham announced over breakfast.

Anne shot me a glance. In one hour, it would be ten o’clock. She sat beside me at the long table as we ate with the other guests. I had given up on feeding her pieces of fruit in front of them. She didn’t seem to like it.

She wore a pale yellow morning dress that was dotted with small flowers. Her determined gaze checked the clock nearly every minute as she pushed food around on her plate with a fork. I enjoyed meals with the entire household, only because the ruse permitted me to admire Anne without hiding it. I glanced at her at least as often as she glanced at the clock.

We had avoided the subject of my brother for the entire week. We had spent hours together during the early mornings and afternoons, reading, talking, drawing—and she had even tried to teach me embroidery. That was when I realized how pathetically lost I was. I never would have touched an embroidery needle for anyone but her. I was addicted to making her laugh—to earning that lovely sound, or catching her with one of her secret smiles. I glanced at her face. A smear of jam hovered on the corner of her mouth. I thrived on moments like this.

“Allow me to help you, my dear.” I picked up my serviette, raising it to Anne’s face.

Her eyes widened as I dabbed the jam away. I put on my most charming smile.

She recovered from her shock with a bashful expression. “Oh! Thank you, Mr. Holland, you are too kind.”

I gazed down at her. “Anything for you, my love.”

She shot me a warning glance before taking a prolonged sip from her cup. I held back the laugh in my throat. Taking my acting too far was one of my new favorite pastimes.

Over the past week, we had successfully deterred Octavia, as well as Lord Kirkham and Mr. Barnwall. As inseparable as Anne and I had become, the entire party assumed an engagement was imminent. Lord Kirkham and Mr. Barnwall sat across from us at the table that morning. Lord Kirkham stabbed a piece of sausage with his fork. He spoke to Mr. Barnwall, but I could hear every word of their quiet conversation.

“I may tear my hair out if I’m forced to play another ridiculous game,” Lord Kirkham said.

“Particularly the evening ones. I already made up my mind on the subject. If I’m invited to another midnight game, I’ll be ignoring the letter.”

Lord Kirkham nodded. “I’ll join you in that protest. The only reason I’m still here is because of my father’s connection to the late Lord Tottenham. It would be bad form to disrespect his widow, especially as rich and powerful as she is.”

“And mad.”

Lord Kirkham chuckled. “That she is.”

Mr. Barnwall took a large bite of toast. “The only reason I’m still here is the food.”

“And the women,” Lord Kirkham added.

“All of them are spoken for.”

“Not Victoria Colborne.” Lord Kirkham grinned. “Shall we start a friendly competition for her attention?”

Mr. Barnwall sneered. “All she seems interested in are books and embroidery.” Both men looked in Victoria’s direction.

“Surely one of us could change that.”

I didn’t doubt Victoria’s ability to snub both men, but I wouldn’t wish Lord Kirkham’s attention upon anyone. I would have to keep an eye on that situation and intervene if necessary. Mrs. Pike was prone to distraction as a chaperone, especially with her blooming romance with Mr. Lymington. Octavia seemed to thrive without supervision, but Victoria was far more innocent.

I hadn’t realized Anne had been eavesdropping as well until she leaned toward me. “I shall have to warn Victoria,” she whispered.

I nodded, threading my arm over the back of Anne’s chair. I studied the side of her face. Her brow creased with worry as she glanced in Victoria’s direction. She had grown accustomed to nurturing others, as if it were a sense of duty within her.

My conversation with Anne in the study had repeated through my mind many times over the past week. As a child, she had never had anyone to nurture and care for her. I had grown rather protective of her since that conversation, and since my conversation with the men over port in the dining room. She was capable of fending for herself as she always had, but that didn’t mean she should have to.

At the moment, her heart was what I wanted most to protect.

In some way, Miles must have given Anne a sense of security, one that she had been missing her entire life. Did she truly love him, or had she been clinging to that feeling? Her marriage didn’t seem to have given her any security at all. I still didn’t understand why she had married the baron, but I had seen how she had deflected the subject with Octavia. The question seemed too personal to ask.

I was kept awake every night with dread for the end of the house party. Even that day, my head ached and throbbed. I didn’t want to see Anne heartbroken by Miles. I didn’t want him to come back to London and erase that beautiful smile of hers. The moment he learned of her financial ruin, he would disappear again. I wanted to be there for Anne, to support her when that happened, but I worried that she still didn’t trust me. We had developed a friendship, but there was still a barrier between us. We avoided the subject of Miles for a reason.

If I had learned anything about my brother, it was that he was capable of ruining anything. I didn’t want him to ruin my friendship with Anne.

When it came time to gather in the hexagon room, Anne held tight to my arm. She practically dragged me through the corridor. It was ten o’clock. Her hunt for the next clue was underway. We were the first guests to enter the room, followed closely by the Colborne sisters.

The brown velvet chairs were arranged in a circle once again. The last time we had played a game in that room, it had been buffy gruffy. Lord Tottenham’s portrait stared down at us from above the fireplace. Walter. He must have been a very patient man to have put up with Lady Tottenham’s wild nature. Surely he had been a bit wild himself. His hunting prizes lined all the walls, mounted up high, and arranged in glass cases below.

Lady Tottenham brought up the rear of the group, instructing all of us to sit. She stood in the middle of the circle. “Today, I should like to test your ability to decipher truth from lies.” My eyes settled on a small stuffed bird that had been nestled amongst her curls, which formed the shape of a nest. I couldn’t look away as she finished her speech. “I will choose two of you to think of one story from your life that you wish to tell. You must also think of a story that is entirely false. All of the guests must agree on which story is the true one. Tonight after dinner, we shall all reveal our answers. If your true story was guessed correctly, then you shall have to pay a forfeit.” She smiled. “It seems an excellent way for us all to become better acquainted.”

Anne’s gaze darted around the room, taking in our surroundings.

Mr. Barnwall slumped in his chair, arms crossed. His bored expression mirrored Lord Kirkham’s.

“I usually don’t participate in my own games, but this time, I should like to go first,” Lady Tottenham said. She held up her hands, and I half-expected a key to fall from the ceiling and land in her palm. “As you can see, there are many animals in this room. They are all no longer living, just like my husband.” She glanced up at the portrait above the fireplace. “Lord Tottenham’s love of hunting was a point of contention between us. He preferred animals dead and on his plate, or on his wall. I preferred to keep them as pets. We met during my first Season. I had a dowry of little significance, and my father had no title—only a small estate that could have been called a cottage. I caught Lord Tottenham’s eye despite all that I lacked.” A wistful smile climbed her cheeks, but then her mouth snapped back to a grim line. “He was rich and titled, but I did not like him. I found him to be an arrogant, pompous scoundrel. When I saw this place, Birch House, particularly this room—I hated him even more.” Her nostrils flared. “He disgusted me, in fact.

“Lord Tottenham did all he could to impress me. He was a kind man, but his atrocious hobbies infuriated me. My heart was cold toward him. One day, everything changed. He ceased bringing me flowers and brought me something else instead.” She paused, a warm smile on her face. “He brought me a rabbit. A living one,” she added. “I had always wanted a pet of my own, but my parents had never allowed it. From that point forward, I allowed our courtship to progress. I saw him for who he truly was. I fell in love slowly, but it was a true and lasting love.”

It was difficult to imagine Lady Tottenham in her youth with a tenderness in her heart for animals. Had she become wild and carefree after her husband had died? Or had she always been that way? I paused, remembering the nature of the game. Her story could be false.

“Now, for my second story,” she said. “It is similar to the first, but with a few differences. You must decided which story is true.” She began with a deep breath. “When I came to London for my first Season, I was determined to marry a man of wealth and consequence. I chose Lord Tottenham from the moment I saw him at my first ball. He was tall and handsome, and every lady in Town wanted him. I was raised to hunt alongside my father, though such practices are considered most unladylike.” She gave a demure smile. “I discovered that Lord Tottenham also enjoyed hunting. Though I was advised not to mention my own proclivity for the sport, I engaged him in conversation on the subject. I captured his interest that night, and he gifted me with a rifle the next day. It caused quite the scandal.” She gestured to the left. “That is the very rifle that hangs on the wall to this day. I fell in love with Lord Tottenham not only for his handsome face, but for his willingness to break the rules of society without a single qualm.” She clapped her hands together after a pause. “There you have my two stories. I will allow you to deliberate and provide a unanimous conclusion as to which story is true, and which is false.” She took a step away from the circle.

I turned toward Anne. “The second one must be true.”

She raised one eyebrow. “Why?”

I lowered my voice, leaning closer. “Does she seem more inclined to shoot an animal or cradle one in her arms?”

Anne covered her mouth to muffle her laughter. “I cannot envision the latter.”

After very little deliberation, the group concluded the same. Lady Tottenham wrote the decision on a sheet of foolscap. Her answer wouldn’t be revealed until that evening alongside the others.

She examined each face in the circle, stopping in front of Anne. “I should like to hear from the two other widows in the circle. Lady Daventry, I should like to hear your two stories next. Since I have just told the story of how I met my late husband, please tell us two variations of the story of how you met yours. Mrs. Pike will be next.”

Anne’s eyes rounded. She gave a submissive nod, though I sensed her nervousness. She squared her shoulders and rose to her feet, making her way to the center of the circle. She twisted one edge of her glove. Her yellow dress was like sunshine, but her eyes held a storm.

My back stiffened. I crossed my arms over my chest in an attempt to keep myself seated. She looked terrified, though she hid it behind her confident posture as always. There was little I could do to reassure her from my chair, so I forced myself to be still and listen.

“Four years ago I was in London with my sister Henrietta for her first Season,” she began. “My plan was to find her a suitable match, and to ensure that she married for love. She has always been a romantic. My aunt, who was acting as our chaperone, had already deemed me a spinster after I failed to find a match in my previous seasons. Therefore, both our efforts were focused on Henrietta.” Anne licked her lips, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor. “I—I met the Baron of Daventry at a ball. He took an interest in me upon our first acquaintance. Because of the words of my aunt, I feared I was running out of time to marry for love. I knew the baron could provide me with a comfortable life, so when he offered his proposal, I accepted.” She looked up. Her eyes connected with mine.

Could that have been true? Even then, had she been waiting helplessly for Miles to propose? If she had given up on him then, why was she still waiting for him now? It didn’t make sense.

“I shall tell the second story now,” Anne said in a quiet voice.

I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees.

“During Henrietta’s first season, our aunt was not an attentive chaperone,” she began. “I took it upon myself to ensure Henrietta was behaving properly. At a ball one night, I lost sight of her. I went searching for her in the corridors, and I found her with the Baron of Daventry. As naive as she was, she didn’t understand his true intentions in leading her away from the party.”

Her throat shifted with a swallow, and she wrung her hands together. “When I sent her back to our aunt, the baron soon turned his advances to me. He was strong, and he had been drinking. I couldn’t push him away in time. He kissed me just as the Duchess of Thorne and several others came upon us through the nearby entrance. Being caught in such a public place, my reputation was at risk. The next day when his drinks had worn off, he did the honorable thing and proposed. My aunt and uncle gave me little choice in the matter. If I didn’t repair my reputation by accepting him, Henrietta and I would no longer be allowed back into their home.” She blinked fast, her jaw tight. “So I married him.”

My heart stung, and Anne’s words about her sister in the study rang through my mind. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her.

Anne had saved her sister from a dreadful situation, putting her own reputation at risk. A surge of anger rose in my chest. Had the baron been cruel to her during their marriage? She had already expressed that she never loved him, but the thought of anyone hurting her was enough to set my blood boiling. Why hadn’t Miles intervened? If he had cared for her at all, he could have married her himself.

Anne returned to her chair. Her cheeks were ruddy, her eyes slightly wet. She didn’t seem eager to look at me, or at anyone else. I reached over to her lap and took her hand, interlocking my fingers with hers. She finally met my gaze, her liquid eyes cutting a hole through my chest. I gave her fingers a squeeze. There wasn’t a need for words.

I knew which story was true, but the other guests were still deliberating.

“I think the first story is true,” Octavia said.

Victoria shook her head. “I disagree. I think it’s the second one.”

I didn’t give my opinion. I didn’t want Anne to have to pay a forfeit by having her true story guessed correctly. After a few minutes of discussion, the group settled on an answer.

“The second story is the true one,” Mrs. Pike said in a firm voice. “That is our final answer.”

Lady Tottenham wrote down the decision with a somber look. She must have sensed the truth in the story as well.

Mrs. Pike took her turn, but I hardly listened. I kept Anne’s hand wrapped up in mine, tracing my thumb across the back of her knuckles. She didn’t pull her hand away, but I had no way of knowing if she wanted to or not. Anything could be excused as part of our ruse. I wanted her to know that my choice to hold her hand in that moment wasn’t an act. But if I told her, I knew she wouldn’t allow it. So I held her fingers in mine while I could, my heart aching deep inside my chest—for her pain, and for my own. I didn’t know if my show of affection felt real to Anne, but it was real to me.