The whole group began to chant. “Cheltie, Cheltie, Cheltie.”
He turned to Althea, offering a shallow bow. “My audience awaits. I look forward to, er, feeling you, my lady.”
Turning on a heel, he pushed toward the front of the room.
Althea watched in confusion as Evan strode to his assistant and exchanged a few quiet words. He turned, and she tied a cloth over his eyes. She handed him a pair of white gloves, which he pulled on with dramatic flair, causing trills of laughter among the eager guests.
A lady leaned toward Althea. “He wins this every time. So the past few parties, we have made him go first and set the bar.”
Oh, no. What had she gotten herself into?
****
Evan knew that if he left the choice up to his guests, the ones who had played in prior years would choose something over-the-top. As it was, the game itself might be too much for Althea, and he didn’t want to scare her away too early in the evening…or in the week, for that matter.
“Arse, it is!” His assistant called out his choice with a clap.
He could only imagine what Althea was seeing as men and women ran around the room to create a circle, facing outward. Clothes rustled, and he heard the boxes being dragged.
Finally, the servant clapped again, and the quartet started the music. She then led Evan into the center and turned him around several times before walking him toward one guest’s posterior.
Taking a breath, hoping this would not discourage his new favorite houseguest, he reached forward, found the arse in front of him, and palmed it.
“Right. Next, please!” He stepped to the right and touched the person’s back, ran his glove down, and palmed that very feminine arse. He squeezed it, eliciting a giggle. “Ah ha! Next!”
And round he went. He had noted there were fourteen in the room, himself included, and after nine bottoms, he reached Althea. He knew everyone’s scent, but this was more. An invisible chord between them pulled him to her. When he reached for her, he knew exactly the right height to aim for and held her arse tenderly for a long moment. He could feel her nearly vibrating with tension, wanting to retreat, forcing herself to hold still. Caressing the mounds in his palms, he tried to soothe her.
He leaned in and beneath the music, almost under his breath, he whispered, “Easy, my lady. ’Tis but a silly game.”
With a pat, he moved on.
When he returned to his starting point, he stood while everyone turned in toward him and starting reciting names. Still blindfolded, he pointed, named the person, waited for confirmation, and then stepped forward to identify the next.
Before he was halfway around the circle, the room exploded in curses.
One man stomped his foot like a child. “Damn you, Cheltie. How d’ya do it? Every time.”
“Come now, Witherspoon, I cannot give away my secrets. What chance will I ever have to feel you up then, man?”
The room laughed as the man turned red, even as he threw his hands in the air and joined them.
“Lady Althea, I believe.” He gave a shallow bow in Althea’s direction.
“Er, yes.”
“May I say that you have a lovely bottom, my dear?” He raised a brow, causing his blindfold to slide against his face.
“No. You may not.”
“Ah, but I believe I already did.” He called the next name, determined to get the last word in.
“Right.” He whipped the blindfold off. “Anyone?” He held it out with a twist of his wrist, palm up, cravat dripping from his fingers. “Arses?”
People grumbled and shook their heads.
“Well, then, ’tis winner’s choice.”
“Go again, Cheltie!”
