Page 72 of A Match of Misfortune

Cecily shifted in her seat, and her chin raised ever so slightly. A part of him wished to rattle her, to let her think that she truly had a reason to be jealous, but a different part of him won out. “Not that I saw her often. Mr. Crauford has always been very protective of his daughter. Which makes sense, considering she is all he has.”

“That is a tragic tale,” Mother said. “Though I’m grateful for all he has done for you over the years.”

“As am I.” Nash glanced around at the attentive faces watching him, though Cecily’s gaze had lowered again. “That is quite enough storytelling for the time being. How about we play a game now?”

“Do you have one in mind?”

“I do,” Lady Bridget said with a widening smile. “My mother just wrote to me about a French parlor game they have enjoyed playing during their time abroad. The name of it is …” She pursed her lips as though attempting to recall the name. “I can’t remember. Though I believe it starts with an S. Anyhow, it does not matter what the game is called. How it is played is that everyone writes a word on a slip of paper, then drops it into a hat. We each take turns drawing one slip, then act out what it says. The trick is you cannot make any sounds or mouth what the word is.”

“Need it be only one word?” Fredrick asked. “Or can it be longer? Like a phrase?”

Lady Bridget gave a thoughtful hum. “Let’s try it with just a word. We can always decide to allow more later.” Her eyes lit up. “Oh. The game is called charades. So not an S, but close enough.”

“It sounds delightful,” Cecily said.

Mother stood. “I shall gather some pencils and slips of paper.”

“We can use my hat,” Rothsburg said, following her out of the drawing room to fetch it.

They both returned a few minutes later, and the supplies were passed out to each person. Nash considered what word to write, but in the need to supply one, he found his mind void of all ideas. Finally, one came to him. He quickly jotted it down and folded the piece of paper before placing it in Rothsburg’s hat.

Lady Bridget went first, pulling out a slip and reading it, only to give a frown. “That is another thing. You cannot act out your own word, nor say it when it is being guessed.” She dropped her word back into the hat and selected a different strip. “This is a good one.” She moved her fingers up and down in a sort of wave, lowering her hands as she did so.

“Rain,” Cecily called right as the word had come to Nash.

“Yes!” She handed Cecily the word strip. “Oh, and the person who guesses the most correctly is the winner.”

“That would have been handy to know,” Rothsburg said with a pointed smile. “I knew the word, but I was enjoying your enactment too much to end it.”

Lady Bridget blushed. “Well, that is your own fault. Who is next?”

Fredrick stood and selected a paper. He gave a little chuckle, then lowered down onto all fours, letting out a loud moo.

“Cow!” Everyone except Rothsburg yelled it in unison.

Lady Bridget tsked. “That is exactly why no sounds are to be made. Unfortunately, no one wins that round.”

Fredrick gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“I’ll go next,” Rothsburg said as he stood.

Nash leaned forward in his chair, set on claiming victory with this one. Cecily did likewise.

After reading the slip of paper, Rothsburg seemed to consider what he might do for a long moment.

“Can he think for this long?” Fredrick said with a grin. “Surely it is an unfair advantage.”

His brother shot him a look. “Says the one who mooed like a cow. Besides, mine is a fair amount harder than yours was.”

Lady Bridget pointed a warning finger at him. “You can’t give any hints.”

“It wasn’t a hint. It was a fact.” He exhaled a heavy breath, still looking uncertain of what he was about to do. He gestured to Nash.

“Man,” Mother called out. “Merchant.”

“Cousin,” Nash attempted.

“Flirt!” Cecily wore a teasing smile when his gaze met hers, the others laughing at her answer.