The others in the room shifted position, some with varying expressions of displeasure but nobody groaned. Lady Dunlop must already have informed them of the nature of the game. She waved her hand, beckoning me forward.
I didn’t care to stand any closer to Warren, so I did as she asked and approached her side. Unfortunately, Warren followed.
Lady Dunlop said, “The hunt will take place in pairs, of course. You and Miss Wellesley are the last to arrive, so you’ll have to pair off.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to stifle a groan. Not again!
Lady Dunlop gave us a folded sheet of paper. She made a tour of the room, passing one out to each couple. “These are the items you’ll need to find. The first clue is written on the bottom of the sheet. When you reach the next, you’ll find another clue.” She turned, waving a pugnacious finger around the room. “Don’t even think of splitting up. I have servants stationed all around the house. You must stick together if you hope to win the prize.”
“There will be a prize?”
Blast Daisy for sounding so cheerful about it all. She only encouraged Lady Dunlop to concoct more of these blasted games. This little retreat from London was not relaxing in any way.
Lady Dunlop cast a fond smile at Daisy. “Indeed,” she said. “There will be a prize for the couple who returns the items to me the quickest. I’ll wait here. You have until the supper hour to complete the hunt.”
She cast a glance at the window, which faced west. The dark storm clouds stirred, threatening rain. A frown teased at the corners of her mouth, but she replaced it with a broad smile.
“I know it’s a little dreary out, but the majority of the items are inside this house. I’m sure you’ll all be fine.” She clapped her hands. “Off you go.”
Daisy took her partner, Lady Dunlop’s nephew, by the hand and towed him from the room in her excitement. She didn’t even glance at her paper. How would she know where the first clue resided?
In one corner of the room, Francine and Mary stood huddled over their paper. Both their lips moved in sync as they read over the clue and puzzled it out.
I started to unfold the sheet of paper Lady Dunlop had given me. I might as well see what this hunt was all about. If I were lucky, Warren and I would breeze through it and be done with each other’s association in an hour.
He snatched the parchment out of my hand.
“Hey,” I snapped. I reached for it, but he turned away, hunching over the page.
I propped my hands on my hips. “Give that here. Lady Dunlop gave it to me.”
“It’s for both of us,” Warren mumbled. “We are partners, after all.”
“In that case, you should share. I need to look at it, too.”
“No need,” Warren said. He folded the page and tucked it into his coat pocket. “I know where the first item is.” He grabbed me by the hand and towed me out of the room.
I scowled. “How could you possibly know so fast?” Francine and Mary hadn’t even puzzled it out, and Francine was the most intelligent person I knew.
“Call it intuition,” he ground out. “We’d best get there before the others puzzle it out and overwhelm us.”
I dug in my heels. He turned, eyebrows raised.
“Do I need to carry you?”
“Hardly. I have no faith in your intuition. Give the clue here.”
I held out my free hand. He ignored me. “After all I’ve been through at this party, I know how Lady Dunlop thinks. The clues will be in the most secluded, most romantic places she can devise.”
“There must be dozens of such places across the estate. How will we know which ones contain the item the clue indicates?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Warren said. “As long as we collect all the items on the list, she’ll never know if we found them in order or not.”
He had a point. I waved my hand in front of his face. “Hand me the list, then. Let me see what we’re searching for.”
With an exaggerated sigh, he fished the list out of his pocket. He handed it to me, and towed me along behind him. “I hope you can read and walk.”
Not as well as Francine, but I was far from illiterate. I let him guide me, trusting that he wouldn’t steer me into a wall while I scanned the list.
“Wait,” I said, digging in my heels. “One of the items is a hardboiled egg. Why don’t we try the kitchen?”
Warren tugged me into the shadowed enclave of the servants’ stair and lowered his voice. “Do you think Lady Dunlop would make it so easy?”
“No, but we have our wiles.”
“Do we, now?” He leaned forward, his eyes glinting with lascivious intent.
I tugged myself free of his hold, putting space between us. “If the cook is a man, I’ll charm him. If she is a woman, you do it.” I raised my eyebrows. “I assume you know how to flirt?”
A scowl darkened his expression. “I know how to flirt.”
“Then we’ll try that. What do we have to lose?”
Before he contradicted me, I spun away from his form and strutted down the short expanse of corridor to the kitchen.
I paused in the threshold. A woman with viciously curly hair commanded an army of young men and women, who scampered around the room in seeming chaos from steaming pots, to the counter laden with chopped vegetables, to the oven where bread baked. The kitchen’s general spared us barely a glance as we walked in.
Elbowing Warren in the side, I motioned him into the room. He sent me an arch stare. A moment later, he replaced it with a debonair smile as he stepped forward.
“My dear lady, might we bother you for a moment?”
The cook wiped her hands on her apron. She followed two of her scullery maids with an accusing stare then turned to him.
“As you can see, I’m busy in here, my lord.” Her voice stung through the air like a wasp.
He raised his hands, palm outward in surrender. “No need for formality. I’m just a man in sore need of some vittles. You know how our dear hostess tends to cut our breakfast short for the sake of the games.”
The woman pulled a face. “So much food wasted.”
“Exactly,” Warren said. He leaned on the counter, making himself smaller so she didn’t have to stare up at him. Clever. I wouldn’t have thought to do that.
“Enough for you to spare a man a hardboiled egg or two?”
The cook blew out an exasperated breath. “That blasted scavenger hunt. You almost had me, sir.” She wagged her finger under his nose.
Warren’s smile slipped for only a moment. He fixed it in place and said, “I won’t tell anyone you helped, if only you’ll slip me an egg. The sooner I finish this hunt, the sooner I sit down to dinner. I’m sure you prepared a splendid meal. I was saying to my companion Miss Wellesley only yesterday how the hands of an angel must make the meals here. If Lady Dunlop isn’t careful, I’ll steal you for myself.”
I pressed my hand over my mouth to contain my laughter. He’d said no such thing, but his compliments induced flushes of color in the cook’s cheeks. She batted her hands at him.
“Oh, you rascal. I’d give you an egg if I could, but I’m afraid they’re all being used for the hunt or the meal today.”
Warren’s face fell.
“Try the cellar,” she told him. “It’s not the egg you want, but it is on your list.”
He brightened immediately. Capturing her hand, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles and thanked her profusely.
A little too profusely, if you asked me.
She shooed him away with her hands. “Go on, now. I have work to do.” The smile on her face counteracted her sharp tone.
Warren weaved between the servants to the cellar door. I hurried after him, smiling to those who looked my way. One of the boys chopping vegetables stared unabashedly. I fluttered my eyelashes at him. Even if he didn’t have the eggs, maybe he knew their location. Anything to speed this along. With a scowl, Warren doubled back to tug on my hand, leading me to the cellar door.
; Stifling a sigh, I followed Warren down the narrow set of stairs. Frankly, I was surprised he fit. His broad shoulders stretched from wall to wall as we descended into the cool depths of the cellar.
My eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light. The moist air smelled thick and just a bit stale. Around the perimeter of the room, casks, barrels, and boxes were stacked in neat rows, alongside sacks of flour and other grain. In the center of the room, along with a pile of envelopes, was a wide, round table. Ten red beeswax candlesticks sat in the middle of the table, one for every couple. Warren took one and an envelope. He turned away.
I narrowed my eyes at the table.
He frowned as he reached the stairs, only to find that I hadn’t followed him. “Rose? What are you thinking?”
“No one has arrived at this clue, yet. We could hide everything and prevent them from winning.”
“But that’s cheating.”
His words were spoken patiently and plainly. He didn’t seem surprised at my suggestion. Clearly it had occurred to him as well.
I shrugged. “How badly do you want to win?”
For a moment, the silence stretched on between us. Then he shook his head. He crossed the space to find me and clasped me by the hand. By now, the gesture had become commonplace. My hand felt right with his fingers threaded through mine. He towed me away. “Not that badly,” he said.
I raised my eyebrows, even though he wasn’t looking at me as he mounted the stairs. “I thought you’re willing to do anything to win. Isn’t that what you told me?”
Even if I couldn’t see his face, I heard the scowl in his voice as he said, “I like to win, yes. But in this case, I care more about finding the bloody objects so I don’t have to do this anymore. Cheating would be a waste of time.”
Arguing wasted more time, but I didn’t point that out to him. We breached the threshold of the kitchen and he led me to the side door, into the open air.
It was chilly outside. The breeze skated over my skin, bringing stinging droplets of cool rain. Warren unfolded the next clue quickly. He skimmed it then muttered, “The next one is in the gazebo.”
Not that we searched in order. But we were already outside. Wrapping my hands around my arms, I muttered, “It had best be the only clue outside.”
As he tucked the clue away, Warren glanced at me. “You’re cold.” He didn’t ask; it was a statement.
I glared at him. “Let’s move quickly. I’ll warm myself that way.”
Shaking his head, he doffed his jacket. He laid it around my shoulders. His warmth and spicy cologne seeped into me, clouding my mind. I breathed deeply, snuggling into the fabric.
“Come,” he said.
He readjusted his shirtsleeves to cover his wrists. A stab of guilt ricocheted through me. Now that I’d robbed him of his jacket, he was cold. He has a waistcoat. He’s far from naked. My cheeks burned with heat as I recalled the image of him unclothed.
Oblivious to my wayward thoughts, he captured me by the hand. Threading his fingers through mine, he towed me into the tall rows of hedges. “Let’s get through this quickly, so we can return indoors.”
He set a punishing pace. I trotted to keep up but didn’t complain. Anything to get us out of this dreary weather and in front of a fine cup of tea. In this section of the gardens, the hedges grew to a level with my eyes, blocking my view. Standing on his tiptoes, Warren scouted the way forward.
“There are three other nooks along these paths that Lady Dunlop might have left something on. We should check those, too. Then the stables.”
“Fine. Whatever gets us inside the quickest.”
I let him lead the way, pressing my lips together to keep from complaining at the quick pace. Instead, I hiked my skirts above my ankles to keep from tripping over them and followed his long strides. As we neared the gazebo, he broke into a trot. Which, for me, was very nearly a sprint.
He dropped my hand as the gazebo came into full view. As we entered the confines, Warren loped up the short step onto the platform and gathered the envelope and ribbon from the table. He turned, catching my hand again on the way down.
I bit my cheek to stifle a groan. I hadn’t even caught my breath.
He led me down a long, winding trek to the other three nooks he’d scouted out. They each proved empty, mounting my frustration. When we breached the edge of the hedges, he said curtly, “The stables.”
Finally.
I led the way now, all but running around the side of the manse to the stables, which in the past had proven my sanctuary. We slipped inside to find more stable hands hard at work. They spared us a glance but didn’t bother asking what we were about.
I took that as a good sign. There must be something hidden here.
“I’ll look in the tack room,” I told Warren. “You check the stalls and hay loft.”
He made a face. “We’re supposed to stick together.”
“We’re in the same building. Surely it doesn’t matter.”
A hostler coughed into his fist. “Actually, it does, miss. I advise you stick together.” He raised his gaze pointedly to the hayloft, and jerked his rake at it.
Oh blast. I’d have to climb.
Warren scooted me forward with a broad hand on my back. “Thank you, sir,” he said to the stable hand. He propelled me toward the ladder.
I tried to push him aside. He bracketed me on all sides, his heavy heat building behind me. Ignore it. Impossible. How could I not conjure images of our passionate encounters when he stood so close?
They had been mistakes, each and every one. He was a mistake. I had to pretend as if I weren’t affected by him. If he knew, he would take full advantage, like he had in the past.
I cleared my throat. “You go first. I won’t have you looking up my skirt.”
He raised an eyebrow. “So you’d rather give the stable hands the view instead?”
Several of the servants chuckled at the quip.
Heat scalded my cheeks. “No,” I said. I turned around again, presenting my back to him, and began to climb as quickly as I could. Luckily, I was agile. It didn’t take me long, despite Warren’s grumblings as he followed.
I reached the top. The ladder stopped just short of the wood, too long for my step. I twisted and sat my rump on the ledge instead. Warren climbed up even closer.
He braced one hand on the hay-strewn wood beside my bottom. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face pale. “Hurry up,” he barked. His voice was strained.
Belatedly, I recalled that he was afraid of heights. “Warren. We shouldn’t have done this. We should have gone straight to Lady Dunlop and explained you’re afraid.”
“I’m already up. Move so I can get off this blasted ladder.”
He opened his eyes to meet my gaze. His face was turned up to mine, pleading written all over it as two pinpricks of color bloomed in his cheeks. I scooted backward, away from the ladder. My skirt caught on the rung.
“My skirt’s caught. I can’t—”
Warren didn’t appear to hear. He heaved himself over the lip and onto the platform, belly first.
He landed flush against my body. Straw poked into my back as I surrendered to his weight and it bore me to the ground. His heart pounded, so loud and frantic, I felt it against my breast. He buried his face in the crook of my neck.
We were very much in public, and very much in view. I shoved at his shoulder as the hostlers below whistled and catcalled. Heat scalded my cheeks.
“Warren, get off. They can see.”
He shrugged to one side, settling his weight next to mine as he rolled onto his back. My skirts were trapped beneath his heavy legs. I sat up with difficulty and shoved him off. I untangled myself from the edge and backed away with as much poise as I could muster. Frankly, I was surprised I mustered any at all.
What would the other guests say when they heard this rumor? Blast, what would Mary say? “It was an accident,” I called down, my voice tight and shrill. “He fell.”
“Of course he did, miss
.”
The hostler’s voice was laden with sarcasm. I gritted my teeth.
I pushed myself to my feet and stomped into the hayloft. The straw clawed at my skirts. A small, rickety table held ten delicate teacups and saucers. If only there had been a steaming pot of tea to accompany them. Snatching the prize and an envelope, I returned to the lip of the loft. I prodded Warren with my toe.
“I have it,” I told him. “We must go down now.”
He groaned.
“If you don’t come with me, I’m leaving you here.”
He reached out his hand. “Give me the clue.”
“No.” I clutched it to my breast. “I won this one, fair and square.”
He rolled his eyes. “We’re supposed to be on the same team. Give it to me.”
“Who named you Lord of the Clues?”
“It’s a self-appointed role.”
He snatched at the paper, but I held it out of reach. I danced away.
“No.” He lunged forward, gripping me around the waist and hauled me back from the lip of the hayloft. I shrieked as I toppled back with him into the hay.
“The cup!” I groped along the fragile porcelain, searching for a crack or a chip. Nothing. It was safe. My head fell against the wooden floor, heavy with relief.
“Watch yourself,” Warren said.
I wrestled out of his grasp. “I wouldn’t have to watch myself if you would stop lunging for me.”
He plucked the page from my limp grasp, and the prize, too, and shoved both into his waistcoat pockets. They bulged with the added contents. I still wore his jacket, containing the other clues. I didn’t let him in on the fact.
He shuffled to the lip of the hayloft. “Careful,” he said. “Come forward on your bottom. You’re less likely to fall.”
“It isn’t that far down,” I told him. “And it’s mostly cushioned with hay bales they’ve already taken down. I wouldn’t hurt myself.”
“You never know,” he snapped. The pallor had returned to his face. I said nothing more.
He descended with shaky hands. I waited until he was halfway to the bottom before I turned around and followed him.
How to Play the Game of Love (Ladies of Passion) Page 16