Chapter Seventeen

Rain poured down in sheets, preventing the party from emerging outdoors. Lady Dunlop heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I had such a lovely day planned for us, too.”

That convinced me, more than anything, that I was grateful for the rain. Whatever she had planned, I wanted no part of it.

She turned away from the window, her hands clasped over her chest. “Well, there’s nothing for it. We’ll have to play a different game instead.”

No one dared groan at her this time. Not after the example she’d made of Warren last night. She clapped her hands, summoning a serving girl who arrived with a tray full of folded papers. “Pass them out, please, dear,” she said with a smile. “See that everyone gets their papers.”

The young woman did as she was told, weaving among the throng as she offered papers from her tray. By the time she reached me, there was only one slip left on the women’s side of the tray. I picked it up and unfolded it. It read Katherina Minola.

Lady Dunlop announced, “Everyone has been given a different character. The character whom that character is in love with during their book or play is the person you will be paired with for the festivities today.”

I sighed heavily. Across the room, Warren raised an eyebrow and flashed me his sheet. On it, written in clearly legible, thick black ink, was the name Petruchio. My match. The papers appeared to be handed out randomly, but I should have known better than to believe it. I flashed him my paper. He grinned.

Nothing about this situation made me happy.

Lady Dunlop continued, “Once you have found your partners, we will be playing Proposals. Gentlemen, it is your aim to propose to your partner by the day’s end. Ladies, you will want to do your best to keep the gentleman from coming to the point. The first man to successfully propose wins.”

Mary puckered her mouth in distaste. “What of the women? Don’t we have a chance at winning?”

“Certainly,” Lady Dunlop said. She said it so smoothly, I’d have thought she’d planned it that way, if not for the momentary panic in her eyes.

“At the end of the day, the woman who has eluded her suitor’s proposal will win.”

Mary flashed her teeth in a sinister smile. “Perfect.” Her tone warned that the unfortunate man to partner her had better not even try to propose—Pachycaul, as it turned out. I hid a smile as he approached her. With luck, she’d convince him he never wanted a wife, let alone me.

His stance was filled with trepidation. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket and muttered, “So. I hear you’re fond of loo.” His brown hair fell forward onto his forehead as he craned his neck down to meet Mary’s gaze.

I expected her to cut him down for speaking to her, but to my surprise, her eyes lit up. With a broad smile, she latched onto his arm. “I am. Do you prefer three or five card?”

He warmed to the topic and they began to discuss the sort of games of chance that weren’t usually played in mixed company. Baffled at her friendliness toward him, I looked away.

Warren hovered at the end of the room, his gaze latched onto me. He seemed eager to participate in the game. Maybe too eager. Had he developed feelings for me, against all odds? Flutters erupted in my chest at the prospect, but I tamped them down. This was only a game.

Avoiding a proposal worked best when not in the room with the man who intended to propose. I knew this for a fact, having dodged more than one suitor’s proposal over my three years on the marriage market.

But Lady Dunlop conspired to make that impossible. She started by entertaining a lengthy brunch and tea right there in the sitting room, despite the fact that chairs had to be toted in for everyone to sit. Then, she proceeded to launch into another game while in the middle of the first.

“We’ll play Partners,” she said. “I can’t think of a better way to pass the time.”

I can. I bit my tongue. If I uttered the words aloud, she’d single me out for an even greater torture.

“I beg your pardon,” Daisy said, “but I’ve never played Partners before. How do you play?”

Lady Dunlop smiled fondly at Daisy. “Why, it’s very simple,” she explained. “You already have your partners. Just line up in a row around the room, and I’ll come and ask each lady a question. But,” she added, holding up a finger. “The lady may not answer. The gentleman must answer in her stead. No matter what he says, she cannot refute it or answer for herself or she forfeits the game. After I’ve completed all the ladies, I’ll come down the line again and ask every gentleman a question, which the lady must answer. Does that sound simple enough?”

Daisy nodded vigorously. “It sounds like such fun.”

“Good,” Lady Dunlop said. “Then make a line around the room, everyone, let’s get started.”

Warren and I exchanged a glance. A gleam lit his gaze. His answers for me would be atrocious. Two could play at that. I flashed him an equally devious smile. His smug look slipped.

When we found positions, we stood nearest the door, on the left. Daisy, Francine, and Mary were scattered across the room with their partners.

Daisy brimmed with happiness, partnered with Lady Dunlop’s nephew again. I narrowed my eyes. Surely the hostess didn’t have designs on nurturing a romance between them? If he hadn’t grown tired of her enthusiasm by now, he might be her one true love. They were both too young to marry—Daisy especially. By the end of the party, she was destined for heartbreak.

I shook my head. Every woman is crossed in love once or twice before marrying. I’d console Daisy when the party concluded…that was, if she didn’t have to console me because of my lack of success in finding a husband. After the excitement of this party, she’d never be persuaded to delay her come out for one more year.

A throb started in my forehead. I rubbed small circles over my temple. I had time, albeit less of it with every passing moment.

Once Lady Dunlop finished shooing the gentlemen and ladies into the line with her hands like stray geese, she began the game. She started with me.

“Miss Wellesley,” she said congenially. “What do you think of your partner?”

Warren lightened his voice in a horrible parody of a woman’s. “Oh, Lady Dunlop, I think he is the best, most charming man ever to live.”

As sniggers erupted around the room, I glared at him. Unfortunately, he hadn’t finished.

“I would spend all my time with him, if I could. In fact, if he only asked, I would m—”

I stumbled, falling against his side with all my weight. His word turned into a grunt as he caught me. I didn’t know if his declaration counted toward the proposal game, but I didn’t want to find out.

I smiled serenely as Lady Dunlop moved to the next couple in line. Her mouth twitched as she withheld laughter.

Warren sidled closer to me. “You did that on purpose,” he muttered.

“Of course I did.” I kept my gaze on the room and my smile fixed in place. I moved my lips very little, lest Lady Dunlop accuse me of interrupting the game. I shuddered to think what she would do if she caught me talking. Lowering my voice, I whispered, “I can’t very well have you propose to me.”

“Why not? I thought that was every young woman’s wish.”

I snorted. The couple beside us turned to stare at me. Lady Dunlop had already moved through two other couples. My cheeks burned. I pressed my hand over my mouth to keep from bursting into laughter.

“Try telling that to Mary.”

The thought almost had me in stitches.

Warren persisted in the conversation. “Fine. If not every woman wishes for a proposal, I know you certainly would. It’s been your aim throughout this party, hasn’t it? To be engaged.”

I glared at him. He wore an innocent expression. He didn’t look at me, but appeared to be paying heed to the game. For one moment, his gaze swung to rest on me. Our eyes locked.

I scowled. “Not any proposal will do,” I whispered, struggling to keep my voice soft. “I certainly don’t want one from a rascal like you. I want to be happy. I want to be in love.”

He raised his eyebrows. “And how will you know when you’re in love with a man? According to rumor, no man can stir that passion in your breast.” He dipped his gaze to my bodice as he said the words.

How dare he! If I colored now, it was most certainly from anger, not from false modesty. His lewd suggestion made it sound as though he had seen that part of my body stripped bare. I might have succumbed to the heat between us, but even I knew there was a line. I would never cross it, not with any man who wasn’t my husband.

“I can feel passion,” I spat at him.

His smile grew wolfish. “I know. But can you feel the tender kind?”

I almost stomped on his foot once more. I faced forward, struggling to maintain a serene expression. Very low, I said, “I know what love is.”

Warren didn’t answer. Perhaps he didn’t hear.

Lady Dunlop applauded as she finished with the last couple and crossed to me once more. The others in the room joined in the applause with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

“A lovely round,” the hostess announced. “Such great answers from the gentlemen. Now, sirs, it is time for you to be asked the questions.”

She turned her beady gaze on Warren. With a brimming smile overflowing her face, she asked, “Lord Hartfell, what do you look for in a bride?”

I shot him a wicked smile. Lady Dunlop couldn’t have given me a better question, if I’d concocted one myself.

Loudly, I announced, “My ideal bride would be a balding, hunchbacked crone. I love warts; the more she has the better. And dancing? Please, let her have two left feet, so I can touch her at all times on the dance floor when she steps on me. But her looks are secondary to her personality. She must be an ice queen to all men, even me. And if she were pious, the kind of woman who spent more time at church than in my bed, all the better. I should hope she would get along horribly with my mother and eject her from my home. After all, I’m too weak-willed to do anything myself.”

The longer I spoke, the tighter Warren’s countenance became. He glared at me like he entertained the thought of stomping on my foot, to bar me from speaking further. By the time I finished, he had narrowed his eyes to such a degree he’d almost shut them.

Lady Dunlop laughed. “My, what standards you have, Lord Hartfell. Do you speak the truth?”

With the muscle in his jaw pulsing from being clenched so hard, Warren jerkily nodded. The entire room burst into laughter.

When Lady Dunlop danced away, Warren leaned forward and whispered, “I will retaliate.”

I sent him a sweet smile. “You can try.”

Apparently, I’d egged Warren on too much during the game of Partners, because for the rest of the afternoon, he applied himself wholeheartedly to requesting my hand in marriage. I cut him off each time, often with loud, hacking coughs. The entire manor must think I’d developed lung rot.

Dinner was excruciating. My heel and elbow ached from the well-placed jabs I’d used to keep him quiet. Nevertheless, I emerged victorious once the meal was cleared away. He hadn’t proposed. All I had to do was last through the night’s game, and I’d be declared the winner.

I couldn’t let Warren win, after all. He may have forfeited the scavenger hunt—for my benefit, if he spoke the truth—but I still hadn’t won. This game was a chance to triumph over him once and for all. An opportunity I refused to let pass, especially knowing how well he liked to win. He may think me a ninny led around by her heart, but I’d prove to him I could be every bit as clever as him.

On Warren’s arm, I followed Lady Dunlop into the front parlor. When Warren opened his mouth, I laid my gloved hand over his lips. “Not a word,” I warned him. His mouth stretched into a smile beneath my hand, but he held his tongue. I retracted my hand and led him into the room.

Lady Dunlop announced, “Our game this evening will be Pantomime.”

I sighed in relief. I defied Warren to find a way to propose when he wouldn’t be allowed to speak.

Lady Dunlop peered around the room. “Do we have a volunteer to start?”

Daisy shot her arm into the air. “I will.”

But Warren detached himself from my side and stepped forward. “Why don’t I, Lady Dunlop?”

The woman pressed her hands to her bosom as she twittered, “A fine idea, Lord Hartfell. Daisy, you can be next.”

Daisy’s face fell, but her partner, Arthur, whispered something into her ear that extracted a smile from her once more.

Lady Dunlop shooed her guests to the perimeter of the room to make room for Hartfell to make his performance. She held a cap filled with slips of paper, prepared earlier. She thrust it beneath Warren’s nose.

“Choose one,” she said. She shook the hat when he didn’t move fast enough. Her eyes were wild, almost greedy, as she tried to shove the entire artifact into his hands.

Warren extracted the slip of paper from the very top. Lady Dunlop, satisfied, returned the hat to the table, and beamed at him. “Read it,” she urged. “You must act it out.”

Warren’s air soured for a moment at her nagging. I chuckled behind the shield of my hand. No doubt he regretted asking to go first.

As he perused the slip of paper, his eyes gleamed. His smile widened. “My lady, I could kiss you.” As he swooped toward the old woman, I almost feared he would. But he only clasped her by the shoulders and whispered something into her ear.

She nodded, her jowls shaking with contained laughter, and slipped something into his hand. He strode to the center of the room with two strides and paused. He cleared his throat. Lady Dunlop clapped her hands.

“Pay attention,” she said, even though most of those gathered were already rapt on the proceedings. “He is about to begin.”

When everyone settled into an eerie quiet, Warren lifted his hand. He raised it to the sky, turning his face upward then clasped it to his chest. He lowered his gaze, alighting on me, with a sly smile.

Crossing to me in one big stride, he went down on one knee and offered what Lady Dunlop had given him—a ring.

“Oh,” Daisy exclaimed. “It’s a proposal.”

With a smug smile, Warren rose from his stance. He handed the ring back to Lady Dunlop, who strutted forward as she announced, “And Lord Hartfell is the first gentleman to successfully propose. He is the winner of Proposals.” She wagged her finger around the room. “Don’t let that discourage you gentlemen from trying. You can still emerge victorious over your partners.”

I clenched my fists. “That isn’t fair. He didn’t speak a word. It shouldn’t count.”

“Yeah,” one of the gentlemen echoed. Pachycaul, from the voice, though I couldn’t pick out the culprit. “Any one of us could have chosen that slip of paper. It was dumb luck.”

Lady Dunlop turned her eye on the crowd, searching for the man who defied her. Unable to find him, she turned her eye back on me. “I make the rules. And I deem him the winner.”

She’d been so adamant when he’d chosen his slip of paper. Had she even been hinting for him to choose that slip? It was cheating. I wouldn’t stand for it.

“Fine,” I said. “If you’re going to arbitrarily define the rules, I won’t play another of your games. Good night.”

I strode from the room but not before I heard Lady Dunlop comment, “My, she is a temperamental one, isn’t she?”

Warren chuckled in my wake, joined with a few others. His low laugh stood out the most, shivering down my spine with awareness. “She is, at that. Let me see if I can catch—”

I didn’t wait to hear more. I refused to speak with him. He’d cheated. I didn’t want to hear his proposal in the first place, but the least he could do was formulate words rather than thrusting the ring at me like a dimwit. I hiked up my skirts and sauntered up the stairs two at a time.

“Rose.”

I faltered at Warren’s voice but pushed onward. I reached the landing and turned to my room. His heavy steps shook the staircase.

He stopped me by brushing his hand over my shoulder. “Rose. I didn’t mean to offend you. It was only a game.”

“Only a game?” I whirled on him. “You’ve been on me from the very second the ‘game’ was announced. Whenever you get involved, you always turn it into some kind of war. The only way out is to forfeit or surrender to your manly championship.”

He chuckled, a smile teasing at his lips. It only made me angrier.

I jabbed him in the chest with my finger. “You cheated. Lady Dunlop may rule in your favor, but it doesn’t count. Without that stroke of luck with the pantomime, you never would have gotten out a word. In fact, you still didn’t.”

I lifted my chin in triumph. I had successfully warded away all his proposal attempts, at least the ones with words. If he tried to bend down on one knee again, I would kick him. Someplace tender.

He stepped closer, slipping his hand around my arm. His touch was gentle, but firm. His gloves were cool against the skin of my arm, left bare by my evening dress. “Lower your voice. They can hear us downstairs.”

“Or what?” I said loudly.

He scowled and tugged me with him down the hall, opposite where my room resided. At the first door to our left, he twisted the knob and hauled me inside. He shut the door.

Darkness enveloped us. I blinked rapidly, but it didn’t help a whit. Not even a sliver of light emerged from under the door to the hall.

Warren brushed past me. The darkness amplified his touch. His hand loosened from around my arm, almost caressing as it retracted. The lapels of his jacket scraped against my bodice, teasing at my nipples. They jumped to attention, throbbing. Blast, I hadn’t reacted so fiercely with any other man. Why couldn’t I find a less obstinate man to arouse such passion in me? It doesn’t matter. Passion came after marriage, not before.

I cleared my throat. “Where are we?”

Warren answered, “Isn’t it obvious? We’re in my room.”