Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

ALEXANDER

I stared at the face of the woman who had tricked me into digging through my traveling trunk to find my bicorn hat.

It was a beautiful face. The most beautiful in the room by far.

I shook myself of my admiration. No amount of beauty could make up for the undeserved sham she had just pulled on me. Her eyes were a fascinating shade of hazel, her hair dark and glossy. Her straight posture made her seem unfettered by my sudden appearance in the room, but her features betrayed her. A look of panic crossed her face before she looked down at her lap.

Very well. It would seem that she had no intention of owning up to her actions. I would have to explain the situation myself.

Our hostess had the audacity to ask what on earth I was wearing, when she, in fact, was wearing the most ridiculous gown I had ever seen. Besides that, she had rouge on her teeth.

I needed to act like I belonged, or she might send me back to my bedchamber. I had no intention of missing a single event this house party had to offer. It was how I would endure the weeks before my brother’s return from India. He had something of mine, and I intended to get it back.

“I heard voices from the parlor,” I said to Lady Tottenham before drifting into the room. “So I clothed myself in my finest attire before coming to investigate. My suspicions proved correct. The lot of you have dared have a party without me.” I smiled before taking a seat beside the wicked, dark-haired, beautiful woman.

She shifted a few inches away.

Lady Tottenham’s sharp brows lifted. “I must confess, the coat is an interesting choice.”

“If it offends you, even in the slightest, I shall take it off.” I removed my outer layer.

Lady Tottenham applauded with a laugh. “Please, do not stop there.” The flirtatious tone in her voice was unsettling, considering she was twice my age.

A gentleman in the corner grumbled under his breath as I unbuttoned one of my two waistcoats. Lady Tottenham would regret not inviting me to her midnight parties once she discovered how lively I could be. When I had walked into the room, there had been a grimness in the air. I planned to change that. Once my outer waistcoat was removed, I stood to hand my spare layers to the footman.

Lady Tottenham pouted in dismay. “Is that all?”

“I don’t wish to upset any of your delicate guests.” I glanced at the woman on the sofa beside me before reclaiming my seat. She resisted my gaze, keeping it fixed straight ahead. “The sight of me without my shirt is quite offensive.”

Lady Tottenham chuckled. “I doubt that.”

I turned to the woman beside me again. I was determined to pull her striking hazel eyes back to my face. I had never seen such a rigid posture as hers. Her jaw was tight, and I could sense the embarrassment she was hiding.

Lady Tottenham spoke again, demanding my attention. “Well, Mr. Holland, if you hadn’t made such a delightful entrance, I might have sent you out. I suppose I will allow you to stay for the game.”

I cast my gaze around the room. The bright colors of the chairs and settees clashed with the nervous expressions of the people sitting on them. “What exactly is this game?” I asked.

“Each evening after midnight, I will host a parlor game by invitation only,” Lady Tottenham said. “My invitations must not, under any circumstances, be declined. Nothing vexes me more greatly. It is my ambition to give ample opportunity to my many single, unattached guests for flirtation and romance. I hope to make a match or two from amongst you.”

My brows lifted. That was certainly unconventional. I hardly knew how to respond, so I simply nodded. Lady Tottenham and I had been acquainted only a short time, through a dinner party I attended the year before. I hadn’t known what to expect when accepting her invitation. I certainly hadn’t expected a trap like this. With the state of my finances, marriage was not at the forefront of my mind. With two elder brothers, I was far from being the heir to our family fortune and estate. Two years before, I had finally qualified to become a barrister. I had worked hard to repay my debts and begin saving money for my future.

And then all of it had been taken away.

Lady Tottenham’s house party was nothing more than a method of living without expenses for twenty days. Most of my success in my profession had been in York, which was less competitive than London for a new barrister. But I had come back to London with a purpose: To ambush my thieving brother when he returned from India.

I hadn’t come to be thrown into a matchmaking scheme. But if I hoped to remain in Lady Tottenham’s good graces, I would have to play along.

I cleared my throat, hiding my surprise behind a nod of approval. “Flirtation and romance are two of my favorite things. When do we begin?”

“You have come to the right place. We shall begin straight away, but first, let us all become acquainted.” She gestured in my direction. “This is Mr. Alexander Holland. He arrived late this evening and was unable to join us at dinner.” She proceeded to introduce me to the other guests in the room, ending the circle at the mysterious woman beside me.

“Lady Daventry.”

Ah. A lady. It was no wonder she felt the need to be so patronizing.

Her eyes finally met mine, but they flickered away in an instant. She gave a nod in greeting.

My accusatory smile seemed to make her uncomfortable. All the more reason to keep it. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady.” When Lady Tottenham walked away, I whispered, “why the bicorn hat?”

Her voice was barely audible. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you find them attractive? Is that why you asked me to wear one?” I teased.

Her jaw tightened. “They are only attractive on officers.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

Her eyes shot to my face with surprise. I was not actually an officer, but it was worth the look on her face. I grinned, noticing the mound of flour on the tea table for the first time. A bullet sat on top, and a small butter knife rested on the tray beside it.

Lady Tottenham began speaking. “To begin, I shall assign you each a partner.” She surveyed the room. “Miss Morton and Mr. Amesbury. Miss Rowley and Mr. St. Vincent. Mrs. Fitzgibbon and Mr. Barnwall. Lady Daventry and…” her voice trailed off. “We shall have a trio, I suppose.” Her gaze darted between Lady Daventry and me. “Lady Daventry, Lord Kirkham, and Mr. Holland.”

Lady Daventry did not seem pleased with the arrangement. Her features were stiff, her skin pale.

“The objective of the game is to cut a slice of flour without causing the bullet to drop,” Lady Tottenham said. “Each partnership will take a turn, alternating which partner takes the risk of making the slice. Please move to sit beside your partner, and we will begin with Miss Morton and Mr. Amesbury.”

I shifted closer to Lady Daventry. Lord Kirkham replaced Mr. Barnwall to her right. The settee creaked under his weight. He pushed his hair back from his square forehead as he made a thorough study of Lady Daventry. He smiled, apparently pleased with what he saw. How could he not be? I sensed her discomfort with his attention, yet she still gave him a smile that was warmer than what I had received.

“Good evening, my lord.”

“Good evening, my lady.” He leaned forward, eyeing me with a challenge. “Mr. Holland.” His voice was curt.

We might have been partners, but he seemed to view me as competition for Lady Daventry’s attention. I didn’t wish to raise any sort of competition with a man who was obviously well-acquainted with violence. I eyed his chipped teeth and the scar that ran down the side of his forehead.

Miss Morton made the first cut in the flour, and the pattern continued as all the women in the partnerships took the first, and least risky slices, around the outskirts of the mound of flour. On the second round, Lord Kirkham bravely volunteered, leaving me to take the greatest risk on the third round. The mound of flour was significantly smaller now. The bullet hung off the edge of one side. I took a careful slice, leaving the pile in one piece.

Somehow, all the partnerships took another turn, leaving all the ladies safe from being the one to drop the bullet.

When it was Lord Kirkham’s turn again, his hand shook as he held the knife. It looked minuscule in his sausage-like fingers. The knife cut through the very edge of the flour, and the entire pile collapsed.

Delighted gasps filled the room as the other partnerships celebrated their victory. Lady Daventry adjusted her gloves, nervousness taking over her expression.

I leaned forward with a whisper. “Our team may have lost, but Lord Kirkham will have to retrieve the bullet with his mouth. That’s the traditional way, at least.” I was eager to see any pompous lord make a fool of himself. It would make the entire game worthwhile.

“This is Lady Tottenham’s game. It will be anything but traditional.”

I followed her gaze to our hostess, who applauded and rose to her feet. She stepped forward to examine the pile of flour. From where I sat, I had a clear view. The bullet had sunk to the bottom.

“Well, my lord, it would seem you are unlucky tonight.” She winked. “You must now retrieve the bullet using only your mouth.”

Lord Kirkham rolled up his sleeves, even though he would not be needing his arms. He cast a glance at Lady Daventry before kneeling in front of the pile of flour. Did he hope to impress her with his performance?

Lady Tottenham raised three fingers in the air. “On the count of three. One, two, three!”

Lord Kirkham dove into the flour like it was a Christmas goose. Seconds later, he came up with the bullet clamped between his chipped teeth. Flour had somehow coated his eyebrows and eyelashes, as well as his entire nose and mouth. He roared in victory, inhaling enough flour to set him into a coughing fit.

I watched in horrified fascination as he coughed up the flour, sending puffs of it into the air. He wiped at the spittle on his chin, and it rolled into a lump of dough that resembled a tiny loaf. If it were baked into bread, I was fairly certain not even a starving mouse would eat it.

I nudged Lady Daventry’s arm. “You’re safe from humiliation, even if you enjoy humiliating others.” I removed my bicorn hat, placing it on my lap just within her view.

She glanced at it. Candlelight flickered across her scowl, deepening the furrows. “I didn’t think you would actually come downstairs. I apologize. I was trying to deter you.”

I laughed. “Something you must know about me is that I am not easily deterred.”

Her throat bobbed with a swallow. “Perhaps you should be.”

“Is determination not an admirable quality?”

Her eyes flashed with vexation. “I would call it pride if you aren’t wise enough to listen to the advice of someone who is only trying to help you.”

Our conversation was lost under Lady Tottenham’s voice.

“Now that you have retrieved the bullet, my lord, you must grant it to your partner. Well, one of your partners. To whom will you bestow the honor?”

Lord Kirkham spit the bullet into his palm and wiped it on the side of his trousers. Lady Daventry’s nose twitched. I grimaced. Lord Kirkham’s eyes watered with tears from his coughing fit, and two ravines had formed through the flour on his cheeks. That tiny loaf of dough still rested on his chin. “I shall bestow it to Lady Daventry, of course.”

He strode forward with a proud grin, his flour dusted lips cracking. He presented the bullet to her as if it were a bouquet of flowers.

She received it in her palm with enough grace to make me forget this was a ridiculous game. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Very good,” Lady Tottenham said as she observed the exchange. “However, lest you forget, your team did lose the game.”

Lady Daventry’s hand fell slack, and she nearly dropped the bullet. Her eyes blinked in anticipation.

“It is only fair that your team is penalized. By bestowing the bullet to you, Lady Daventry, Lord Kirkham has unwittingly chosen you to pay a forfeit.”

A wave of delighted whispers came from the ladies across the room. I leaned my elbows on my knees, eager to catch more than just the profile of Lady Daventry’s face. An unwelcome surge of sympathy enveloped me, but I pushed it away. It was only a game. She seemed to be a strong woman, though apparently a bit shy and uncomfortable with being the center of attention.

Lady Tottenham snapped her fingers, and a footman strode forward with a glass bowl filled with pieces of parchment. “Now, please draw one slip from the bowl and present it to me. Some options are more favorable than others, so it will be the luck of the draw.”

The guests fell silent as Lady Daventry rose to her feet and joined our hostess at the center of the room. She lifted her chin and reached her gloved fingers inside the bowl. She released an audible breath as she unfolded her selection and read the words silently. Her face fell. Lady Tottenham snatched the paper from her hand.

Lady Daventry’s skin paled. Her terrified gaze met mine before dropping to the floor.

What the devil was written on that parchment? I shifted to the edge of my seat in anticipation.

Clearing her throat, Lady Tottenham read the penalty aloud.

“Kiss your partner.”