“Excellent work, Mr. Gideon,” Bryony said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Announce your new rule, and toss your cards at the opponent of your choice.”
He retrieved his stack of cards from atop his head and considered his options.
A rule that the winner got to kiss Bryony would backfire very quickly. He would have to save that one for later.
He arched his arm behind his head, clearly prepared to launch his stack of playing-cards into the crowd. “From now on, whoever is the first to be doused in playing cards, must immediately squawk like a chicken.”
The girls erupted into peals of laughter.
“Choose me!” shouted one.
“No, me!” screamed another.
With a sudden movement, Max tossed his cards a few inches to his side so that they showered down over Bryony.
“Bok-bok-bok,” she crowed, to the girls’ delight.
Max found himself laughing as hard as the other students.
In no time at all, he could scarcely believe when the clock turned three and playtime was over.
As the students picked up hundreds of scattered cards and put the room to rights, he realized he could not recall the last time he had laughed so hard or for so long. He very much regretted only arriving in time for the second half of the game.
“Remind me to add this one to the Cloven Hoof,” he murmured to Heath deadpan.
“Only if we are there to play, too,” his opera singer sister said quickly. “Our brother may have started the game, but the three of us refined it into perfection.”
“I’m not sure the Cloven Hoof could handle four Grenvilles at once,” Max admitted.
Though he rather wished he could make it happen. Their enthusiasm and good humor were infectious.
“If you’re not tired of us yet,” Heath said with a smile. “My wife and I are having a dinner party in a week’s time, and you are more than welcome to join us.”
All of Max’s relaxed happiness vanished at the thought. “No.”
“Not atonparty,” Bryony said quickly.
“Small,” Heath insisted, his expression sincere. “Friends and family. Which means you qualify.”
“If it makes a difference,” added the headmistress sister, “our parents cannot make it, so you’re spared that gauntlet as well.”
Max cleared his throat self-consciously and amended his brusque response. “No, thank you.”
He could not. A half hour visit to a rookery was one thing. Descending upon well-heeled ladies and gentlemen bussing cheeks in a Mayfair townhome was quite another. Having Max amongst them would embarrass everyone present.
“Think about it,” Bryony murmured, briefly brushing the back of her fingers against his. “Give me your answer tomorrow night, at the masquerade.”
He made no promises, for what could he say? He was not the dinner party sort.
Bryony needed a gentleman who deserved her. Not some underworld heathen who would ruin her social status in a heartbeat if an association with him were to be made public.
A stolen evening with her behind the safety of masks would have to be good enough for them both.
Chapter 17
The following night, as Max’s hackney inched forward among the impressive queue leading to the Duke of Lambley’s sprawling estate, he had plenty of time to second-guess the cursed arrogance that had brought him here tonight.
Given that even his afternoon visit to a rookery wasn’t as free from awkward failures in politesse as one might assume, presenting himself at the doorstep of a duke seemed significantly greater hubris.
