Page 17
Three hours later
From beneath half-closed eyes, Caspian eyed the sun streaming through the windows. The rainstorm had passed through, leaving the ground damp and the intrepid sun shining through the remaining clouds. A rainbow shone in the distance, the ends of the colorful arc disappearing into the treetops.
Under Lady Osborne’s supervision, the commandeered guests had discussed and planned parlor games for well over an hour. Corinna sat to his left, and the trio of Claiborne sisters had been assigned to a table situated near a window.
Wearing pained expressions, Andrew Darby and Hetty Charleston occupied one of the other matching plum and gold settees while Lord Oswald Overton and Nora Talcott perched awkwardly on the third. All appeared like trapped animals, poised to flee given the first opportunity.
Any doubt that Caspian entertained that Lady Osborne was up to her matchmaking meddling had dissipated the moment the dame had ordered everyone to their respective seats. Of the three pairs, only he and Corinna had carried on a conversation and even chuckled together.
The stilted interactions of the other couples singled out for her ladyship’s romantic interference suggested Lady Osborne had missed her mark. Their frequent desperate glances toward the closed doors proclaimed no wedding bells would soon toll on their behalf.
“Are we agreed then?” Corinna glanced up from the foolscap she’d been writing upon. “Kiss Your Shadow, Blind Man’s Bluff, Charades, Postman’s Knock, The Toilette, and The Aviary?”
Caspian’s personal favorite.
Her forehead creasing in the adorable manner it did when she concentrated, Corinna glanced downward. “Did I miss any?”
The Claiborne sisters had suggested several other kissing games, including Kiss the Candlestick, Kiss the Nun, and Kiss the Monkey. Caspian suspected it wasn’t as much because they wanted to be kissed but because they enjoyed seeing others in a bit of a pickle.
“No. I believe that is all we agreed upon.” Lady Osborne gave a satisfied nod.
“What about the forfeits?” Garland Claiborne asked.
Caspian could well guess which forfeit she’d suggest: kissing.
“I shall decide the forfeits for each game,” Lady Osborne announced as she rose from her armchair where she’d overseen the proceedings as regally as a queen upon her throne holding court.
On the pretense of straightening the writing implements, Caspian bent his neck and whispered to Corinna. “The weather’s cleared. Would you like to stretch your legs before luncheon?”
In the process of sprinkling sand upon the ink, Corinna turned her head toward the window then met his eyes. Nothing artificial or scheming gleamed in her gaze. Just the clear-eyed, innocent contemplation he’d come to recognize as uniquely hers.
“Yes. I just need to let Ronan know.” She wrinkled her nose. “Mama made me promise I would keep him and Mercy abreast of my activities. You’d think I was twelve and not a grown woman.”
“Why aren’t your parents here, Corinna?” Caspian asked as he capped the inkwell. From Ronan’s accounts, the Marquess and Marchioness of Trentholm were loving parents and their family was close-knit.
Caspian’s family had lived beneath the same roof and got on reasonably well. That is when Florinda wasn’t in one of her moods which tumbled the house chimney-over-foundation for days—occasionally weeks—at a time.
“Marissa tripped on the stairs and broke her wrist two days before we were to leave.” She swept a sprinkling of sand off the table with the palm of her hand. “Our parents didn’t want to leave her, and since Mercy and Ronan were attending the house party, they have the privilege of chaperoning me.”
She gave an impish grin, and Caspian couldn’t help but tip his mouth upward in response.
“I’m not certain they consider it a privilege,” she quipped. “More of a familial obligation.”
Except for the Claiborne sisters, who had stopped to admire a collection of snuff boxes in a curio cabinet, the others recruited to plan the parlor games had beelined to the exit and departed with the alacrity of someone chased by Hades’ own hounds.
Lady Osborne approached, a speculative glint in her eye. “I shall take the list, Miss Brockman. Thank you for indulging an old woman. I have no idea what young people enjoy these days.”
That was as big a tarradiddle as Caspian had ever heard. Lady Osborne was fully aware of current trends and last year’s fashions, which she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing.
Corinna passed Lady Osborne the paper. “I was happy to help.”
Her ladyship leveled a droll glance on the whispering trio gawping over the snuff boxes. “Thank you, Misses Claiborne, for your time and assistance.”
A clear dismissal by her ladyship if Caspian had ever heard one. The three mumbled their replies and filed from the room.
Caspian hadn’t a doubt the dame had manipulated the situation so that he and Corinna were the last ones remaining.
He exchanged a wry glance with Corinna.
