Tears shone in Sarah’s eyes. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”
When all the ladies were costumed, Georgie returned to the drawing room and summoned the men.
Serious Major Hutton groaned, but his wife gave him a playful jab to the side and urged him not to be a curmudgeon.
In the library, Georgie handed the major a sash and faux medal and one of James’s practice foils. He took one look at them, grimaced, and walked out again empty-handed.
Colin shook his head. “Viola is right. He is a curmudgeon. Good thing it does not run in the family.”
“Yes,” Georgiana agreed. “I am glad you are game for any diversion. Which character are you to be?”
“Sir Tim Spruce.”
Georgiana burst out laughing.
“What is so funny?”
She took his slip from him and read it. “Spruce and fly I’ll always be. For I’m a Buck of high degree.”
“So?” he challenged.
“So you are perfect as you are.”
Colin grinned. “Well, if you say so, who am I to disagree?”
Mr. Henshall turned out to be Giles Diligent, a perfect match for the former Miss Busy turned Bride-to-Be. They handed him a straw hat and a pitchfork.
Finally, each guest was outfitted for their role.
Except Georgiana.
Colin asked her, “And what about you? Which character did you pick?”
In all the busyness, she’d barely glanced at her slip. She looked at it now. “I am Miss Gadabout.” She read, “Yes, all I like is gadding about. To the play or a ball, the park or a rout. And what if I get a push or a squeeze? A crowd so delightful can never displease.”
She expected him to laugh, but he did not. Instead he said, “I know you like to play ball and walk, but the rest of it?” He shook his head. “It’s not how I see you.”
She wanted to ask how he did see her, but did not dare. “It’s only a game,” she reminded him—and herself as well.
Wearing the veil, Sarah returned to the drawing room with the others, everyone ready to recite their parts. The major was nowhere to be seen.
Mr. Gwilt had to be cajoled to enter in his long cape and felt crown, a toy scepter in his hand. The kindly, humble man looked supremely uncomfortable.
The others encouraged him. Emily said, “You look perfect, Mr. Gwilt, I mean, Your Majesty. Now, it is your place to begin the proceedings.”
His Adam’s apple rose and fell on a hard swallow. Then, rising to the occasion, he straightened and read, “Fate decrees me yourKing: grave and glad, wise and fools, must consent, for this night, to submit to my rules.”
Emily clapped. “Well done.”
Taking her cue, Mrs. Denby adjusted her spectacles and read, “I am your Queen and tonight shall reign, as the Queen of the cheerful, happy refrain.”
She tittered, and the others laughed in response.
One by one, the guests read their introductions, some like Armaan and Sonali self-consciously, while others, like Colin, read theirs with comic, theatrical air.
“You’re next, Sarah.”
Too happy to be truly offended, Sarah rose and began to read, “Yes, Busy I am from morning till night. For Betty my maid can never do right—”
