Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

ALEXANDER

A nne Dixon?

The familiarity of her features was vague, but it grew clearer as the seconds passed. She must have been fifteen the last time I had seen her. She and Miles had shared a close friendship that troubled my parents, though he could do little wrong in their eyes.

Lady Daventry— Anne —stared at my face, as if searching for a reaction. I was frozen, held captive by this new realization.

Miles had spoken of Anne before he left for the London season. I remembered that winter well, and the mess he had left behind. The details about Anne were muddled in my head. Miles had continued to maintain little direction for his profession, so his intentions for the Season were to find and woo an heiress. It was clear he had feelings for Anne, and was weighing the possibility of marrying her instead. Our parents had discouraged it, but he had gone to London with an open mind. It was after his departure that his true nature had surfaced, and I had suffered greatly for it.

Anne was a widow, so she had obviously married someone else. Did Miles know she had been widowed? At that very moment, he was on a ship bound for England. I was here in London to confront him upon his return. Was Anne here to do the same? Her intentions were likely not as hostile as mine. She couldn’t possibly…still have feelings for him?

I wiped my mouth with my serviette. “I remember how often my brother spoke of you.”

Her eyes rounded. “You remember me? He…spoke of me often?”

I nodded.

Her gaze dropped to her plate, and she seemed to struggle to gather her thoughts. Her rosy lips parted, but no words came out.

“Is his return from India what brings you to London?” My question seemed to further aggravate her. “Have you still been writing to him?”

She looked up. “Yes.”

I leaned back in my chair, too astonished to sit straight. How had Miles managed to woo her ? She was…beautiful. Regal. Her emotions were obviously guarded. Perhaps they hadn’t always been that way. I crossed my arms. Hot frustration tingled under my skin. Why did a woman like Lady Daventry, the widow of a baron, think Miles was worth waiting for? Had he promised her money? Had he manipulated her like he had so many others? I couldn’t imagine why any woman would want to marry my brother, but that was only because I knew better than anyone what he was capable of.

I bit the inside of my cheek, debating the best way to proceed. Anne was obviously uncomfortable. I glanced at her downcast expression as she stared at her plate in silence. It was a weakness of mine to ask too many questions, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Are you in love with him?”

Her features hardened. “That is none of your concern.”

“You are.” I scoffed in disbelief, running my hand over my hair. “You really think you’re in love with Miles?”

A blaze of anger crossed her face. “I don’t ‘think’ I’m in love with him. I am. Why is that so appalling?”

I leaned toward her. Our whispered conversation couldn’t last much longer. Mr. Hatcher seemed to have noticed the tension, and I could practically see his ears perking up to eavesdrop. “He isn’t the man you think he is. I can promise you that.”

She cast her gaze heavenward, shaking her head. “Do you truly expect me to believe you? Miles told me all about your antics at home, and the gambling debts, and the general…mischief you caused.”

“General mischief?” I laughed, but my insides boiled. Miles had blamed everything on me his entire life. It was his greatest talent—making others appear worse to elevate his own character, stealing trust with charm rather than earning it with his actions. I took a drink of water to cool the anger simmering inside me. “I would love to hear what else Miles has said about me. It seems you are credulous enough to believe every word out of his mouth.”

She glared at me. “His ill words about you are growing more plausible by the minute.”

“You may think of me however you please.”

She stabbed at a piece of ham on her plate. “Perhaps I shall not think of you at all.”

“Even better.”

My breakfast was growing cold, but I didn’t care. My stomach was in knots. Had Miles made it his objective to turn everyone in his life against me? Anger surged under my skin. I felt near to bursting. I clamped my mouth shut, glowering at the table. There was nothing I could say would make Anne see sense. Miles had captured her loyalty, just as he had my entire family’s. He created a pedestal for himself by standing on the backs of the people he diminished. He had been standing on me for far too long. Anne would be next if she wasn’t careful.

The rest of the meal passed in tense silence, and for once I was grateful to hear Lady Tottenham’s voice.

“Ladies and gentlemen, good morning.” She stood at the foot of the long table, circling to look at each of her guests. “We will now gather in the Hexagon room for a bit of entertainment.”

I exchanged a glance with Anne. She seemed to remember that she was angry with me, snapping her gaze away from mine. She stood quickly, rushing off to stand near Mrs. Fitzgibbon. I remained in my chair. I couldn’t look away from her, even as she made her swift escape from me. I studied the sheen on her curls, her dark, fierce eyes, her tall, curved figure. I tore my gaze away. How had I gone from vexation to admiration in seconds? It was rather pathetic.

I watched as Miss Morton whispered in Miss Rowley’s ear. They both laughed, slipping past Anne and pulling Mrs. Fitzgibbon along with them.

Anne remained behind, snubbed by all three women. They had seen what had happened in the parlor the night before, and I suspected the entire party would know about it soon enough.

Lord Kirkham weaved through the crowd at the door, stopping directly beside Anne. His eyes traced her figure from behind, the action so obvious that I could see it from across the room. Admittedly, I had been guilty of a similar thing, but at least I was discreet.

The moment she noticed him, his eyes snapped up to her face. He smiled with those chipped teeth. The panic in her features was obvious as he extended his arm.

I sighed. She had given me no reason to rescue her, but a true gentleman didn’t need a reason.

I strode across the room, touching Anne’s shoulder just as she was about to take Lord Kirkham’s arm. “My lady, you promised to finish telling me the riveting story you started at our table.”

Her brow twitched in confusion.

I extended my arm at her opposite side, giving an obvious nod toward it. “I would be delighted if you would walk with me to the hexagon room so we may finish our conversation.”

Lord Kirkham’s nostrils flared. He seemed the sort of man to make enemies at every turn, but seeing Anne’s discomfort had taken away any of my concern on the matter of potentially having my teeth knocked out.

Anne’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, but this time, I seemed to be the better option. She took my arm with a light touch, and I led her into the corridor, leaving Lord Kirkham stewing in our wake.

We walked in silence for several seconds. Finally, she glanced up at me. “Thank you.” The word sounded painful, like the entirety of her pride had just been laid on a sacrificial alter.

I raised my eyebrows. “Are you admitting that you prefer my company over his?”

“You already know that I chose to sit by you at breakfast in order to avoid him.”

I grinned. “I wanted to hear you admit it again.”

She sighed. “It’s only because I know you aren’t trying to woo or court me.” She paused. “Especially now that you know of my attachment to Miles.”

My jaw tightened involuntarily. What should her attachment to Miles have to do with anything? The moment we reached the hexagon room on the second floor, she released my arm.

The room lived up to its name. Six walls stretched up to a lofty ceiling, at the center of which was a large window facing the sky. The room had been cleared of all furnishings besides a sofa and a circle of brown velvet chairs.

“Another game?” I whispered, casting a sideways glance at Anne.

She grimaced, her hazel eyes connecting with mine. “It would appear so.”

I counted the chairs in front of us. Thirteen. That was enough for all but one guest.

How many games would be played at this house party? To play games after dinner in the evening was one thing, but to arrange morning games and midnight games was excessive. It was fitting, I supposed. Lady Tottenham’s entire being was nothing if not excessive. Her fashion, her wealth, her furnishings, her food, her personality. I should have known what I was agreeing to when I accepted her invitation.

Once all the guests had arrived in the hexagon room, Lady Tottenham moved to stand at the head of the circle of chairs.

“My dear friends, welcome to the hexagon room. This has long been one of my favorite rooms of the house. It usually serves as a ballroom, but in this case, it will serve as a game room.” She gestured at the walls. “You will see many portraits of my late husband’s ancestors, to whom I owe my deepest gratitude and respect. You will also see many of my husband’s hunting prizes.”

Glass cases with small, stuffed creatures of all kinds lined one of the six walls. On another, nine large animal heads were mounted on the wall. I made eye contact with a deer.

“My husband had a deep love for games, prizes, and tests,” Lady Tottenham continued. “He found enjoyment in the way they challenged his mind and bolstered his spirits.” She gave a wistful smile as she gazed at the largest portrait above the fireplace.

The man in the portrait must have been Lord Tottenham, frozen in his youthful likeness. He had a warm disposition, large blue eyes, and a long nose. He looked intelligent, cheerful, with just enough eccentricity to be compatible with his wife. She stared at his portrait for a long moment before coughing into her elbow. She drew a rattling breath. “To honor him, I have gone to great lengths to arrange a series of games to take place during the next month. These games are not what you might expect from a London house party. In my invitation, I stated that rules must be followed. If you are not prepared to play my games as they are intended to be played in my husband’s honor, you may choose to leave.” She took a step closer to the line of guests. Her skirts rustled in the silence. “If you break the rules, you will be forced to leave.” Her sharp eyes danced over every face in the room. “As the weeks progress, the games will become more difficult. The stakes will be higher. You must keep your eyes open at all times—for the entire house party itself is a game.” Her lips curled into a smile. “Search for clues at every turn, for at the end, there will be a prize.”

A ripple of whispers flooded the room. Her cryptic words hung in the air. Those who had been invited to the midnight game the night before were under the impression that the house party was a matchmaking scheme. Perhaps it still was. The gathering seemed to have multiple purposes, and keeping them straight was going to prove difficult. The entire house party was a game? What the devil could she mean by that?

There were two reactions amongst the guests. Concern and delight. Miss Octavia Colborne, one of the twin sisters in attendance, wore an alarming grin. Her sister’s expression was more reserved.

I glanced at Anne. Her cheeks were pale.

“The game we will be playing today is my variation of Buffy Gruffy.” Lady Tottenham gestured at the circle of chairs. “In an orderly fashion, please come take a seat.”

Lady Tottenham’s variation could never be a good thing. I recalled that there were only thirteen chairs, yet there were fourteen guests. Anne seemed to have noticed the same thing, because she rushed toward the circle. Before I knew what had happened, she was already in a chair. I hurried forward and claimed one on the other side.

The last person standing was Miss Octavia. She looked nearly identical to her twin sister Miss Victoria. Both young ladies had blonde curls, icy blue eyes, and slightly upturned noses. The only differences that set them apart were the color choices of their wardrobes and jewelry. Octavia dressed in an extravagant manner that was similar to Lady Tottenham, which already seemed to have won her favor.

“Miss Octavia.” Lady Tottenham beamed. “You have failed to obtain a seat in the circle. That means you will be the first to play the game.”

Octavia covered her mouth with her gloved fingers and laughed. “Oh, dear.” She blinked innocently. Mrs. Pike, her widowed aunt and chaperone, wore a look of concern. It wouldn’t have surprised me if Octavia had found herself in the center of the circle on purpose.

Lady Tottenham stepped up behind Octavia and draped a yellow blindfold over her eyes. She secured it with a knot in the back. With one hand on her shoulder, she spoke the rules close to her ear, but loud enough for all to hear. “Those in the circle will move when I clap my hands together. When I clap again, they must stop and sit in the nearest chair. Miss Octavia will stop in front of a chair of her choice without knowing who occupies it. She may ask three questions in an attempt to discern the person’s identity, with the exception of asking their name. The person in the chair may disguise their voice, but they must answer the questions honestly. She may also touch the person in an attempt to discover their identity. If she guesses correctly, she may ask for one of three rewards. She may ask for a kiss, a secret, or a flattery, after which, the player will replace her at the center of the circle.”

From behind the blindfold, Miss Octavia’s face lit up with a grin.

I met Anne’s gaze from across the circle. Would every game at this party involve kissing? I nearly laughed when I noticed that Lord Kirkham had managed to plant himself in the seat beside her. I had to admire his determination.

Lady Tottenham clapped, the sound echoing off the six walls of the room. We all stood, rearranging ourselves until Lady Tottenham clapped again.

Octavia staggered forward, walking in a diagonal line until she collided with my knee. Instinctively, I reached out to steady her. Her hands clasped onto my forearms, and her grin widened. “Who might this be?” she asked amidst a giggle. “Certainly a gentleman.”

Her hands traced up my arms, squeezing periodically. “A strong one.”

Several ladies in the room giggled along with her. I held perfectly still, staring at the plasterwork on the ceiling. I had never had a conversation with Octavia, so I trusted she wouldn’t recognize my voice. I doubted she knew enough about me to learn anything from the answers to her questions. I held my breath as she ran her fingers over my hair. There were several balding men in the circle, so she had just eliminated at least half.

“Is your hair dark or light, sir?” she asked.

“Dark.” It was clever to ask questions based on the person’s appearance. She would have me narrowed down quickly if she continued. Her hands shifted down to my face. She ran her hands over the overgrown scruff on my jaw and cheeks.

Mrs. Pike sat on the edge of her chair, eyes round with mortification.

“How old are you, sir?” Octavia’s grin told me she was already close to discovering my identity.

“Twenty-seven.”

“Are you wearing a blue waistcoat?”

I glanced down at my chest. How had she already noted the color I was wearing? I cleared my throat. “Yes.”

She squealed with delight. “This is Mr. Holland.”

Lady Tottenham applauded, as did the other guests in the circle. “You’re correct, Miss Octavia! You are a clever girl.” Octavia removed her blindfold. Her icy blue eyes settled on my face with triumph. I gave her a congratulatory smile, though my nerves were on edge.

Lady Tottenham motioned toward me, addressing Octavia again. “You may now ask Mr. Holland for a kiss, a secret, or a flattery. Which will it be?”

She tapped her chin. “Lud, I would like all three if I could have them.” Her sister let out a giggle from across the circle. Octavia’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “But if I must choose…I should like a kiss.”