I wouldn’t, either, as well she knew, but I appreciated the fact that she didn’t point it out.
I sighed. “What if you wore one of my dresses and strolled in the garden all day? Be mysterious and aloof. No one will know the difference.”
“Your dresses are too long for me and too tight in the chest.” She pinned one last strand into place to hold the braided bun to my head. “There. Have a look, miss.”
Reluctantly, I snagged the hand mirror. “I look lovely,” I said, resigned.
She smiled and plucked the mirror out of my hand. “You always do.”
Armed with nothing but a chiding smile, Emily ushered me off of the stool and toward the door. “Go. Have breakfast. Perhaps you’ll feel better.” A mischievous twinkle entered her eye. “Maybe you’ll fall in love with another worthy gentleman.”
Unlikely. The rest of the eligible men here were boors. Lord Hartfell’s half-dressed form sprung to mind. He was the king of boors.
With heavy, reluctant steps, I descended to the breakfast room.
I stopped short in the doorway. Men and women crammed shoulder-to-shoulder along the narrow breakfast table. At the far end, Frederick dug into a plate piled high with steaming eggs and bacon. Relief weakened my knees. He hadn’t left.
The sole vacant chair squatted at a diagonal angle from Frederick, squashed between my sister and Lord Hartfell on the end. Bless Daisy, she must have saved it for me. I danced to the sideboard and without paying attention to my choices, I directed the footman to ladle a bit of everything on my plate. I waited for the footman—who must be of an age with Lady Dunlop—to set my plate on the table before I claimed the seat.
Hartfell was not accommodating. He didn’t budge an inch as I squeezed beside him. My skirts bunched, riding high on my leg, which pressed intimately against his from hip to knee.
He raised an eyebrow. “Quite the appetite you have there, Miss Wellesley.”
Oh dear. I’d chosen more food than I usually ate in a day. It threatened to spill off my plate and onto the table.
My cheeks heated like a furnace. I funneled that heat into a glare. Hartfell’s smirk didn’t waver.
Ignore him. If only that were possible.
Turning to the object of my affections, I said, “Captain Paine, how wonderful you decided to stay the day, after all.”
“Not the day, Miss Wellesley,” he corrected. “I only weathered out the night.”
At that moment, our hostess, Lady Dunlop, darkened the doorway. Her arrival barred any notion of escape. “I won’t hear of it, Frederick,” she said with feeling. “You’ll stay for the games, of course. And dinner. I won’t send you home hungry.”
Beside me, Daisy leaned forward. Curls of her blond hair, escaping the ribbon Emily had so carefully wound into it, almost brushed her food. I pulled her hair back, over her shoulder, as she exclaimed, “There will be games?”
Lady Dunlop smiled. “Of course, dear. What else would you hope to do at a house party?”
“Relax in silence.”
Hartfell muttered the words in such a low voice, no one heard but me. I cast him a sideways glance, but he maintained a neutral expression as he picked at his food. His plate was nearly empty.
My stomach rumbled. I dug into my mountainous plate of food. I’d forgotten all about it.
“In fact,” Lady Dunlop said, with a broad smile capping her round face, “the first game will begin shortly.”
Across the table, Pachycaul nearly spat out his drink. He spluttered as he coughed. Mary walloped him on the back. He glared at her but muttered a thin, “Thank you.”
She wisely retracted her hand, though from her expression, she didn’t seem the least bit wary of his ill mood.
To the hostess, he said, “Whatever do you mean? We’ve only just woken up.”
“Speak for yourself,” said the gentleman at the end of the table nearest the door. “I’ve been awake for hours.”
He folded the newspaper he’d shielded himself behind, revealing an annoyed expression. Mr. Wray, if I recalled the introductions last night. From the white threading his brown hair at the temples, he was over forty.
“It’s after half ten,” Lady Dunlop said, clasping her hands over her chest. “I’ve sent people to rouse any young ladies still abed. As soon as they dress and come down, we’ll begin.”
“Shouldn’t we have a chance to digest our food?” Hartfell asked dubiously.
“Certainly,” Lady Dunlop said. “Young ladies take a great deal of time to dress. I imagine you’ll have half an hour’s time for your…digestion.”
She leveled such a glare in his direction, that he immediately dropped his gaze to the table once more. He shoved the plate away.
I hurried to pile food into my mouth before Lady Dunlop removed the plate from under me. Judging from her beady glare, she refused to delay her precious festivities for an instant. In fact, I pitied the poor women and men who hadn’t yet risen. They’d miss their breakfast.
Unconcerned, Mary piped up, “Francine should be down presently. Her maid, Pauline, was battling with her hair when I came down.”
Lady Dunlop smiled. “Thank you again, Mary, for agreeing to share a room with her last night. We were much put out by the rain and I didn’t quite have enough space to put everyone.”
I canted my head. “Are they all still here?” I should have guessed by Frederick’s presence and that of Captain Beckwith on Daisy’s other side. But all those people…surely Lady Dunlop hadn’t found rooms for them all.
“Unfortunately not,” the lady said with a sniff. “Those from the village returned last night despite my warnings. And the baronet and his wife left this morning, it seemed she was ill. But I convinced a few stragglers to stay the night.”
Across the table, Frederick gave a wan smile. He, too, pushed his plate away, mostly uneaten.
“I fear I must depart as soon as possible, Lady Dunlop. I thank you for your generosity, but I must return to the front. I have a duty to which I must attend.”
He leveled a glare in Captain Beckwith’s direction. Unconcerned, the young man continued to butter his bread. “Nonsense,” he said. “The war will still be there tomorrow.”
“Simply because I take my duty more seriously—”
“Too seriously.”
“—does not make it any less important. Would you have Napoleon overrun us?”
Captain Beckwith lifted a dark eyebrow with chagrin. “Because you are the only person stopping him from doing so?”
Goodness, they bickered like brothers. If Frederick hadn’t worn such a dour expression, it might have been heartwarming. As it was, he looked far from in the mood to propose to a woman. I couldn’t have that.
I cleared my throat. “Perhaps you’re both right. Surely the war will wait for a few more hours, as important as it is.”
They both leveled a sour expression in my direction. Oh dear me, what had I done?
Fortunately, Lady Dunlop intervened. In a loud voice, she harped, “I won’t hear of you leaving before supper tonight. Either one of you. And Frederick, you’ve barely touched your breakfast.”
“I wonder why,” Hartfell drawled under his breath. Again, too low for anyone not seated directly beside him to hear. Was he speaking to me? I bit my lip to stifle the urge to smile. Better he not know he entertained me. His ego would swell to the size of this house.
At that moment, he shifted his weight beside me. His thigh brushed against mine anew, reminding me of how close we sat. Color stained my cheeks. My breath caught as tingles erupted up my leg.
Ignore it. Pretend he isn’t here. If only it were so easy.
Forcing a smile, I said, “What game do you have planned this morning, Lady Dunlop?”
A sly expression crossed the hostess’s face. “Why, you’ll have to wait until we’ve lined up on the lawn to find out.”
Pachycaul groaned. “It’s an outdoor game? Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“It’s a lovely d
ay,” Lady Dunlop said, though from her tone of voice it might have been raining hellfire outside.
“The heavens poured down last night,” Pachycaul pointed out. He flicked a lock of hair out of his eyes. “Everything will be sopping wet.”
“I didn’t know you were made of spun sugar,” she said primly, lifting her nose in the air.
Pachycaul made a face, but held his tongue. A wise move.
At that moment, a slim figure squeezed past Lady Dunlop’s form. She cleared her throat. “Oh dear. The table is full.”
Lady Dunlop turned with a winning smile. “Ah, Miss Johnstone,” she exclaimed. “The ladies are awake. Come, we’ll adjourn to the backyard, and I’ll inform everyone of the first game of the day.”
Pachycaul gave a dramatic sigh as Lady Dunlop disappeared from sight. “I’m starting to regret accepting this invitation.”
I nudged Hartfell. Pressed between him and Daisy, I couldn’t stand. The lout didn’t budge an inch.
Across the table, Frederick stood in a fluid motion. “Miss Johnstone,” he greeted the figure. He crossed the room in two steps and offered his arm. “Will you do me the honor of accompanying me?”
She daintily laid her hand on his sleeve. Oh blast. They were getting away.
I elbowed Hartfell in the side, hoping he would take the hint and stand. He didn’t. Fortunately, on my other side, Daisy jumped to her feet with the aid of Captain Beckwith. Finally, I had enough space to leave the table.
Hartfell’s shadow fell over me as he, too, straightened from his chair. Of course. I turned my back to him.
“How rude of me,” he said. “Miss Wellesley, would you care to accompany me to the yard?”
Mary, judging by her glower, would have said no. But the other gentlemen’s eyes rested on me. A glint lit Pachycaul’s gaze, as if he hoped I would refuse just so he could offer next. If I let him sink in his claws, I’d be stuck with him for the rest of the day.
I laid my hand on Hartfell’s arm. “Thank you,” I told him.
His face dropping, Pachycaul turned toward Mary.
“Don’t even think of it,” she said to the air.
He thought better of asking to escort her. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he whistled as he retreated from the room.
Mr. Wray followed him with just as much reluctance. After offering Daisy his arm, Captain Beckwith vacated the room, leaving Hartfell and I utterly alone. When I took a step forward, he didn’t budge.
Chapter Seven
I cleared my throat. “Lord Hartfell. Our absence will be remarked upon if you do not move.”
He fixed me with an unreadable expression. “Call me Warren,” he said in a low voice.
It was so deep and intimate, I nearly shivered. I stiffened my spine. “Why? So you can call me Rose?”
“Is that what your friends call you? I thought your name was Rosalind.”
“It is,” I snapped. “On both counts. But we are not friends.”
“No,” he said, his expression darkening. “We aren’t, are we?”
The silence grew thin and stilted. I tried to tug my hand from his, but he pinned me in place.
At that moment, Francine popped her head into the room. “Oh dear. Where is everyone?”
I freed my hand from Hartfell’s clutches. Mustering the illusion of serenity, I turned to my friend and said, “Lady Dunlop has gathered everyone out back. We should hurry, or we’ll be late to the announcement.”
I leaped across the room to link arms with Francine. Desperate to escape Hartfell’s presence, I dragged her through the hall to the back of the house. Whispers of the chill April breeze wafted through the gaping back doors. I shivered. Did I have time to fetch a shawl? When I glanced behind, Hartfell’s dark shadow crossed the hall in my wake. I hurried outside.
The moment my foot kissed the grass, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, blinding me. A few rapid blinks later, and my eyes adjusted in time for the sun to hide behind the cheery white clouds again. Francine guided me forward, seemingly unaffected by the light.
She stopped in front of Lady Dunlop, who clasped her hands over her stomach as she waited for everyone to arrive. Others exchanged low conversations. Both men and women grumbled at the unexpected entertainment. Most house parties let their guests lay abed for half the day and only conducted games in the evening, if at all. Many gentlemen accepted invitations to house parties with intentions to ride or hunt for the duration, though this late in April, they’d be lucky to find a stag.
Which likely had been the reason Mama usually declined invitations to such parties, so I wouldn’t succumb to the horse-mad affliction I’d indulged before we moved to London. I hadn’t touched a horse in years. Proper young ladies don’t ride.
I had to endure the vicious constraints of maidenhood for only a few more weeks. Once I was married, I would be free to do whatever I wanted.
But…what if my husband thought me a hoyden? No man felt affection for a woman he considered wild. I clenched my teeth.
“That’s why it has to be true love.”
Francine tilted her head toward mine. “Did you say something?”
I forced a smile. “I’m woolgathering. Don’t mind me.”
The twitter of feminine laughter carried to my ear. I craned my neck. To one side, Frederick stood with his head bent so close to Miss Johnstone’s, their foreheads nearly touched. She pressed a hand over her mouth, stemming her laughter. My silk gloves rustled as I clenched my fists.
Mary sidled up, a glower on her face. “How long are we supposed to wait here?”
As though Lady Dunlop had heard, she clapped her hands together. A trail of young ladies—their chaperones still abed—flooded the yard, yawning behind their hands. The scattered few young men who had still been abed followed.
“At last,” Lady Dunlop said with feeling. “It looks as though we’re all gathered. I can now announce what the game will be.” Her face brimming with joy and cleverness, she confessed, “Today we will be pairing off to play a game of hide-and-seek.”
Several of the gentlemen groaned. “The child’s game?” Mary grumbled.
I surreptitiously stepped away from her. If she drew the hostess’s displeasure, I didn’t want to be picketed in the same group. Rumor held that the matches made at the annual house party were orchestrated by Lady Dunlop.
Paces away, near Lady Dunlop’s elbow, Daisy cheered. “Oh, what fun it will be.”
I relaxed as Lady Dunlop cast a fond smile at my sister. At least Daisy was doing her part to remain in the hostess’s good graces.
“What fun, indeed,” Lady Dunlop said. She raised her voice and announced, “I need a volunteer to play the seeker.”
Daisy raised her hand and brandished it back and forth. “Lady Dunlop, I’d love to play the role.”
With no small measure of relief on her face—after all, given the crowd, it wasn’t likely she’d find anyone else enthusiastic to play along—Lady Dunlop said, “Wonderful, Miss Daisy. But you’ll need a partner. Arthur,” the woman called, beckoning her bushy-haired nephew forward with her hand. “Perhaps you’d care to partner Miss Daisy?”
The young man was more eager to go back to bed, if the sullen look on his face was any indication. But he forced a smile as he stepped forward, “I’d love to. Miss Daisy?” He offered his arm.
She latched onto it eagerly. Oh dear. If she didn’t lose that exuberance before her come out, the ton would think her the most desperate debutante in all of London. My father might not have a title, but we were connected by enough marriages that Daisy could have her pick. Even a baron or viscount, if she chose.
Lady Dunlop clasped the pair by the shoulders and steered them away. Over her shoulder, she called, “You’ll have until the count of one hundred to find a proper hiding place. You may choose your partners now.”
Blast. Miss Johnstone already had her claws hooked into Frederick. Who would I find to partner me?
Mary latched onto Francine’s arm. “
You’ll pair me, won’t you?”
Francine shrugged, though she cast an uncertain glance in my direction. “Certainly.”
I cleared my throat. “I think it’s Lady Dunlop’s design that the women pair with the men.”
Mary lifted her chin as outrage clouded her expression. “When did she say that?”
“She didn’t, but—”
“Then it’s settled. Francine, you’re my partner.”
Francine cast me a look of pity as Mary led her away.
Gooseflesh rose over the nape of my neck. Dread pitted in my stomach as a man cleared his throat behind me.
Not him. Not—
In a booming voice, Hartfell asked, “Miss Wellesley, would you do me the great honor of being my partner?”
I cringed as the gathering cast hooded glances in my direction. Why did he have to make a spectacle of it? Donning a practiced smile, I turned to meet his smug gaze. The oaf knew I couldn’t deny him without it reflecting poorly on me.
Leaning so close, not a whisper of my voice would sneak to the ears of the fellow guests, I murmured, “You don’t want to partner me.” I infused an edge into my voice, brooking no argument.
Hartfell smiled. “To the contrary,” he said, not bothering to hide the conversation. “I am very eager to be your partner. Why else would I ask you?”
From the corner of my eye, I espied the lanky Pachycaul hovering just out of range, hurt inscribed on his face. He’d partner me in a second. But would he be any better than Hartfell? Neither would let me get close to the true object of my affections. I’d rather not hurt my former suitor any more than I already had.
With Hartfell, I had no such qualms. I’d grind his black heart into dust, if he even had one.
The scoundrel ran his hand over my arm, lingering. Heat radiated from his touch. When he reached my wrist, he guided my hand onto his sleeve. “This way,” he said, his voice full of joviality. “We don’t have much time.”
Ha! As if there was a single nook or cranny on the estate big enough to hide his hulking form. At least Daisy would find us posthaste. As a child, she took great pains to find me out before my sisters.
How to Play the Game of Love (Ladies of Passion) Page 7