Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

ANNE

M rs. Pike looked ill. She shook her head at Octavia, but the girl had eyes only for Alexander. I crossed my ankles under my skirts, wringing my hands together in my lap. Alexander must have been pleased with her choice. He did seem like a shameless flirt, and Miss Octavia was quite pretty. She had a significant dowry too—she and her sister had already made that clear during the dinner conversation the night before. Alexander would be wise to woo her, and from the way Octavia was looking at him, I didn’t imagine it would be very difficult.

I squeezed my fingers so hard they turned white. Alexander stood, taking a step closer to Octavia. He interlocked his hands behind his back, leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Was that allowed? I jerked my gaze to Lady Tottenham. I didn’t expect she would be content with a kiss on the cheek, but to my surprise, she didn’t object. Octavia certainly did. As she turned around to take his chair, I caught the hint of disappointment on her features.

Lady Tottenham waved Alexander forward and began tying the blindfold over his eyes.

His words against Miles had been stoking a flame in my chest since we left the breakfast room. Why was he trying to poison my image of Miles? My hope for Miles was all I had. It made my heart ache that the two brothers were not fond of each other, but I had always believed their enmity to have been caused by Alexander. Miles was far too sweet, gentle, and kind to be deceitful. Alexander was bitter, that was all. I couldn’t allow him to burrow his lies inside my head.

Lady Tottenham clapped her hands. In my distraction, I had forgotten what it meant. I jumped to my feet, selecting a new chair across the circle. Lady Tottenham clapped again, and we all fell silent.

Alexander rotated where he stood. My stomach fluttered with dread when he stopped. He faced me.

I held to one side of my chair, keeping my breathing quiet as he began walking forward. Move to the left, I urged him in my mind. Unfortunately he couldn’t hear me. He continued with cautious steps in my direction until his boot kicked against my skirts. He reached forward, and I resisted the urge to duck. His hand touched my sleeve, then lifted to the side of my face. His touch on my cheek was light, but it sent a string of shivers down my neck. I clenched my jaw. That was not acceptable.

My stomach lurched with nervousness as his fingers traced over my curls. Would he know it was me? Surely not by touch alone. Once he asked his questions though, my identity would be clear. We had spoken enough now to make my voice recognizable. The effort of disguising it would be more embarrassing than it was worth.

“This is a lady, there is no question,” Alexander said. Both his hands held my face now, and I could hardly inhale for fear of being discovered. My heart pounded fast.

I stared up at him. The blindfold covered the entire top half of his face, but his grin was still visible. Why was he smiling like that? Surely he didn’t already know it was me. His thumb traced the curve of my cheek before his hands lowered from my face. I released the breath in my lungs.

“There are a number of widows amongst the guests here,” he said. “Are you one of them?”

I nodded before remembering he couldn’t see me. Drat it all. He would recognize my voice. “Yes.” My voice was a quiet squeak.

“What are your plans for your time in London after this house party is over?”

I gritted my teeth. “I plan to socialize.” It was a vague enough answer.

“With whom do you plan to socialize ? Anyone in particular?”

I wanted to reach up and tighten the knot on his cravat until he could no longer speak. The other guests would wonder why he was asking such strange questions. A wave of heat rose to my cheeks. “No.” I had broken the rules of the game by being dishonest, but Alexander already knew the answer. He was simply taunting me.

Lady Tottenham stepped up beside him. I had never been more grateful to see her. “That is all your questions, Mr. Holland. You may now guess the person’s identity.” She wore a mischievous grin.

He didn’t hesitate. “This is Lady Daventry.”

She clapped, as did the rest of the guests. I didn’t dare look around. My face was still on fire.

Lady Tottenham untied his blindfold, and I made sure to prepare a cutting glare for him when his eyes settled on my face. I squared my shoulders.

He was completely unfettered by my formidable stance. If anything, he looked even more amused.

“Mr. Holland, would you like to ask Lady Daventry for a kiss, a secret, or a flattery?”

I held his gaze, injecting as much venom into my eyes as possible. If he dared ask for a kiss, I would sooner kick him across the room and be sent back to Wiltshire. I was in a losing position no matter what. The other two options didn’t sound pleasant either.

“Hmm.” His dark eyes bored into mine, and he tipped his head to one side. My heart raced at the probability of a kiss. He had been vexed all morning that I had chosen Lord Kirkham over him the night before. Would this be his way of repairing the wound to his pride? I could hardly breathe as I awaited his choice.

He broke the suspenseful silence after several seconds. “From Lady Daventry, I must ask for a secret.”

The tension in my shoulders relaxed, and his smile grew as he gazed down at me. He must have known how horrified I was. I searched my mind for any secret I might tell, but found nothing I was willing to share. If I could think of something witty and slightly offensive, it would be enough to qualify as a secret.

An idea came to mind, but I hesitated. The seconds ticked by, but nothing else came to mind.

“Well?” Lady Tottenham raised her thin brows. “What is your secret, Lady Daventry.”

“I have far too many to choose from,” I said with a laugh, standing from my chair. I stared straight at Alexander’s smirking face. I paused for a long moment, feigning deep thought. “I may be remiss to tell this secret in the presence of our hostess.” I paused, giving a nervous laugh. “But I must confess that I am not fond of parlor games at all. I despise them.”

Alexander’s mouth curled in a slow smile. His eyes darted over his shoulder at Lady Tottenham. The guests in the circle gasped with amusement and shock. Some laughed. I stood as confidently as I could manage.

Lady Tottenham stared at me for a long moment. I couldn’t tell if she was dismayed or amused, but then a laugh burst out of her chest. “We are all entitled to our opinion, I suppose.” Her green eyes gave me a critical sweep before a smirk tugged on her lips. “But you came to the wrong house party, my dear.”

That had been made quite apparent already. I gave a humble laugh, hoping Lady Tottenham would forgive my bluntness. She didn’t seem ruffled by it at all. Whether I liked her games or not, she would still force me to play them. She waved me forward, lifting the blindfold.

Alexander sauntered past, taking the chair I had left behind. How he had managed to choose me from amongst all the other guests was baffling. The only explanation I could think of was that he had cheated, which would quickly have him sent home. If I could find a way to prove it, I wouldn’t have to endure his company for the entire month. I was tempted to accuse him of cheating at that very moment, but I held my tongue.

Lady Tottenham draped the blindfold over my eyes, tying it securely at the back of my head. My eyes adjusted to the dim light behind the fabric. Faint details of the hexagon room came into view—the various animal heads on the wall, the small game animals in the glass case, and finally the outline of Alexander’s face. His features were shadowed, but still recognizable.

I touched the side of the blindfold to ensure it was properly in place. There was nothing wrong with the way it was positioned.

I could see straight through it.

Lady Tottenham clapped, and everyone circled to a new chair. My jaw was slack. Was this what Lady Tottenham had intended? A semi-transparent blindfold was the perfect way for her to see who each player would choose to steal a kiss or secret from, and the perfect way for players to flirt while appearing innocent.

That meant Miss Octavia had chosen Alexander intentionally.

And he had chosen me.

My mind flashed to the way his thumb had caressed my cheek unnecessarily, and how his fingers had brushed through my hair. I clenched my jaw. He had seen my face the entire time.

Lady Tottenham clapped again, stopping the rotation. I pivoted, debating over what might be the best way to proceed. Choosing one of the women would be the best course of action, especially if she was more reserved than Miss Octavia. Mrs. Pike or Mrs. Fitzgibbon could be trusted to avoid choosing Lord Kirkham. That was my sole objective at the moment—ensuring he did not end up at the center of the circle.

I chose Mrs. Pike and guessed correctly after my three questions. I asked for a flattery, only to give her the least amount of distress possible. She paid a compliment to the pink lace on my dress before taking her place at the center of the circle.

The game continued for three more rounds, and to my relief, Lord Kirkham was never chosen. Each time I glanced at Alexander, he maintained his wicked smile. He wasn’t ashamed in the slightest, even knowing that I was aware of the transparency of the blindfold.

What was he trying to do? Was he trying to steal my attention away from Miles, or just infuriate me? The first would never work, and the second was working all too well.

During the afternoon activities, I tried to stay close to the other women of the party. In the garden, we watched as the men played nine pins with Miss Victoria and Miss Octavia. Mrs. Pike stood nearby, quietly scolding Octavia when she came too close to Alexander. Ever since the game of Buffy Gruffy, she had become infatuated with him. She cheered each time he knocked down a pin, clinging to his arm with squeals and delighted giggles. He didn’t seem to mind the attention. From my place at the nearby table, I narrowed my eyes at his back as he threw the ball again.

The hot sun beat down on my parasol. I sipped at my cup of lemonade. White roses grew on a bush beside me, as well as a patch of purple foxglove, which was attracting several bees. Mrs. Fitzgibbon kept one eye on the creatures as she bit into a vanilla glazed cake. Her cousins, Miss Morton and Miss Rowley sat beside her. It had been excruciating trying to engage them in conversation. It was clear that they had judged me for my decision to kiss Lord Kirkham the night before.

I leaned forward, desperate for a subject that might intrigue them. “Do you think there will be another midnight parlor game tonight?”

The three women exchanged a glance. “I hope so,” Miss Morton said.

Miss Rowley pursed her lips, brushing a strand of chestnut hair from her eyes to better see the nine pin players. “I hope Miss Octavia isn’t invited.”

“She makes me want to claw my eyes out,” Miss Morton said in agreement. Both young ladies peeked at Miss Octavia out on the lawn. “Yesterday she said she liked Mr. Hatcher, but now she has obviously changed her mind.”

“Mr. Holland is the most handsome man here,” Miss Rowley said with a disgruntled sigh. “And Miss Octavia is the prettiest girl here. It is entirely unfair.”

“Victoria is pretty too. She looks exactly like Octavia.” Miss Morton flicked a bee off the rim of her teacup.

Mrs. Fitzgibbon shrieked, jumping up from the table and walking a safe distance away from the flowers.

“Yes, but Octavia is a flirt,” Miss Morton said in a casual voice. “She will always win against her sister. It doesn’t matter, though. Victoria seems to have set her attentions elsewhere.”

I followed her gaze to Victoria, who stood off to the side of the lawn with Mr. Hatcher. I shook my head in amazement. Would Lady Tottenham successfully create matches at her party? It was only the second day and attachments were already forming. Time would tell if they were one-sided.

“And you.” Miss Rowley’s golden irises met mine. “You seem to have a liking for Lord Kirkham.”

Miss Morton snickered behind her glove.

I shook my head fast. “I assure you, I don’t.”

Miss Rowley scoffed. “I refuse to believe it. You chose to kiss him instead of Mr. Holland.”

“We were shocked,” Miss Morton said with a nod.

“Mortified.”

I sighed, closing my eyes for a moment to block out the bright sun. “I pitied Lord Kirkham for having to retrieve the bullet. I felt it was the polite decision to make.”

They exchanged a glance. “He does have money and a title. We will not judge you if you pursue him for those reasons alone.”

“I am not pursuing him,” I said, my voice too defensive.

Miss Morton shrugged. “Very well.” She took a sip of lemonade, her eyes sliding to her cousin. Neither one of them believed me. There was nothing I could say that would make my decision logical to their minds. Meanwhile, Alexander had already managed to charm them without even trying.

“Whether you pursue him or not, it is obvious that Lady Tottenham intends Lord Kirkham for you. We figured it out.” Miss Rowley held up her fingers. “There are seven intended matches at this party. From the partnerships at the game last night—you and Lord Kirkham, myself and Mr. St. Vincent,” she gestured at Miss Morton, “Kate and Mr. Amesbury, and Mr. Barnwall is intended for Lydia.” She gestured at her cousin and chaperone, Mrs. Fitzgibbon. “Mr. Holland, of course, was not actually invited to the games last night, so his intended match could not have been among us.”

I nodded, glancing at the rest of the guests out on the lawn. “Do you have theories for the others?”

Miss Rowley nodded. “We suspect Octavia and Mr. Holland, Victoria and Mr. Hatcher, and Mrs. Pike and Mr. Lymington.”

That did make sense. Mr. Lymington was close to Mrs. Pike’s age, and both seemed to be equally appalled by the impropriety exhibited by the younger guests.

“I wish my match wasn’t Mr. Amesbury,” Miss Morton said with a groan. “He is handsome, I suppose, but not like Mr. Holland.”

“At least you haven’t been chosen for Mr. St. Vincent.” Miss Rowley’s nose wrinkled. “He is far too old. I would much rather compete for Mr. Holland.”

Both girls gazed out at the lawn. Miss Rowely picked up her fan, fluttering it vigorously at her face. “He looks so handsome with his shirtsleeves rolled up.” She burst into laughter.

Miss Morton threw her head back with a giggle. Her blonde curls stuck to her forehead with perspiration. She leaned forward with a devious grin. “How are we going to steal him from Octavia?”

At this point, I was simply an observer of their conversation. I sat back, nibbling at a cake as they plotted and planned. I would keep the fact that I had seen Alexander shirtless to myself. I couldn’t have them swooning face-first into the pitcher of lemonade.

Out on the lawn, Alexander knocked over all nine pins. Octavia leaped toward him, squeezing his arm in celebration. A slow smile climbed my face when I noted his discomfort with the situation. He tugged his arm away gently, but his eyebrows were pinched with concern. It would seem he had an unwanted admirer as well. He was no longer at liberty to tease me about Lord Kirkham without retaliation.

My attention focused back on the conversation between Miss Morton and Miss Rowley. Mrs. Fitzgibbon had dared to return to the table, keeping her fan poised to swat away any bees.

“What could Lady Tottenham have meant when she said the entire party is a game?” Miss Morton asked with a quizzical look. “I wonder what the prize could be.”

Miss Rowley raised her eyebrows. “Clearly the prize is Mr. Holland.”

They both laughed.

In truth, I had been wondering the same thing. Knowing Lady Tottenham, the prize would be something no one would expect, and likely something no one actually wanted. She had a collection of strange curiosities from her travels that could be easily handed out to a winner. There could be some cryptic, intangible prize like ‘true love’ or the promise to host the wedding of the match that became engaged by the end of the party. The possibilities were endless.

The prattle at the table fell silent. Lady Tottenham approached from the right, a glass of lemonade in hand. Her maid strained her arm to hold the parasol above Lady Tottenham’s hair arrangement, beads of perspiration running down from her cap.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” Lady Tottenham took a sip of lemonade, her rouge leaving behind a mark on the rim of the glass. She sat down in the chair beside me. A second maid appeared from behind the rose bush with a fan, waving it continuously at the side of Lady Tottenham’s face.

She rotated toward me in her chair, one eyebrow raised. “Is nine pins yet another game that you despise?”

I nearly choked on my lemonade. I set down my cup. It clattered against the saucer. “No, my lady. I decided I would rather stay in the shade.”

“I see.” She released a dramatic sigh. “However, I don’t understand why you wish to remain here at the table instead of in the company of all the gentlemen.”

I glanced at the other three ladies at the table. The attack seemed to only be directed at me and my decision not to play the game.

“I have been enjoying my conversation with these women,” I said. “I find men to be far too competitive at lawn games.”

“I would argue that ladies are more competitive.” Lady Tottenham’s eyes shifted toward Miss Rowley and Miss Morton, then to Octavia, where she still flirted relentlessly with Alexander. Had Lady Tottenham overheard our conversation? My stomach twisted with dread. If she hadn’t, her maid certainly had. It made sense that Lady Tottenham would have spies positioned all over the house and grounds.

“ I should like to go play,” Miss Rowley said, pushing away from the table.

“As would I.” Miss Morton joined her, giving a curtsy before rushing off toward the lawn. Mrs. Fitzgibbon took a tea cake with her as she joined them, leaving me alone at the table with Lady Tottenham. I couldn’t allow her to scare me away. She was a headstrong woman. Perhaps she would appreciate my willingness to hold my ground.

She eyed me with pursed lips, creating an array of wrinkles around her mouth. “You still insist on sitting out?”

I gave a polite smile. “Unless you insist that I play. If it is required of me as your guest, I will.”

She gave a hooting laugh in the back of her throat. “You are a peculiar one, Lady Daventry.”

I tipped my head to one side. “Am I?”

“Do you think I am not aware of your financial situation? I investigated each of my guests thoroughly before inviting them here.”

I swallowed, interlocking my fingers in my lap. “Did you?” My voice was weak.

“Open your eyes.” She looked like she wanted to reach forward and shake me. “I am presenting you with an opportunity. Multiple opportunities. You are nine and twenty, a widow of nearly four years, and on the brink of destitution. Your time to make a respectable match is running out.” She instructed her maid to fan faster before addressing me again. “You and I both know you must marry again, and I have invited you here to give you that chance.”

I felt equally honored and horrified. She truly cared about my future, even though we had only been briefly acquainted. Her investigation into my life was disconcerting, but it showed her dedication.

“If you are such an advocate for marriage, why do you not marry again, my lady?” I asked. “Why haven’t you married in the decade since your husband’s death?”

Her green eyes gleamed with mirth. “You are a bold one.”

“Forgive me. I am simply curious.” I gave a bashful smile.

She drew a breath, and it rattled in her chest. She coughed, blinking away the resulting moisture from her eyes. “I have no reason to. I have money. I have this house. I have my husband’s memory to hold close to my heart. I loved him, and I have no desire to love anyone else.” She studied my face. “Now it is my turn to ask a bold question.”

A jolt of nerves hit my stomach. “Very well.”

“Did you love your husband?”

Her question hung in the air. A bee buzzed past my ear, a welcome distraction. I swatted it away before sitting up taller. “No. I did not. Nor did he love me.” I adjusted my gloves. “So you must forgive my resistance to marry again, my lady.”

Her sharp eyes didn’t leave my face. “I will forgive your resistance, but I will still advise against it. For the sake of your future comfort, it would seem that you don’t have any choice but to marry, and marry soon.”

My throat was dry, no matter how much lemonade I drank. Lady Tottenham had spoken aloud the deepest fears in my heart, leaving me completely vulnerable. There was nothing to argue with. She was right. I didn’t dare tell her about Miles, so I kept my response vague. “My only hope is that if I do choose to marry, it will be for love this time.”

“My sincerest wish is the same.” She smiled, and a hint of sadness crossed her eyes before she blinked it away. “Faster,” she barked at the maid.

The young woman supported her arm with her other hand as she waved the fan even harder.

“However, if you find that love still evades you, and another loveless marriage is not appealing, then you may find that other opportunities await you here.”

“Other opportunities?”

Lady Tottenham shrugged. “If you are willing to play my games.”

I tried to hide my confusion as I took another sip from my cup.

“Do consider the gentlemen here at my party,” Lady Tottenham added in a stern voice. “Do not be so stubborn as to allow a good thing to pass you by.” She arched one eyebrow.

“Of course.” I smiled, turning my attention back to the lawn. Not, I added in my mind.

Sometimes, stubbornness wasn’t a choice. My heart hadn’t been swayed in thirteen years. I wouldn’t be swayed now.