Ellen ignored her words and hurried away, her heart pounding, and her palms sore from digging her fingernails into them.
Who did this Lady Cynthia think she was? Was she a former lover? A woman spurned? Did Edmund really have some sort of arrangement with her that he'd failed to fulfil ... ? But then why had he not turned to her for the purpose of this ridiculous charade?
Question after question.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The evening would not end. After 'Blindman's Buff,' Louisa led them through various parlour games, such as 'musical chairs' or 'Poor Kitty.' They were innocent, if not childish, games, and most of the guests played along good-naturedly.
Edmund, however, knew Louisa and the ultimate purpose behind her entertainment. He knew as the night wore on, and the alcohol flowed more freely, these games would become less innocent, especially when it came to the payment of forfeits for those who'd lost.
Edmund had had the good sense to double up on everything: two pocket-watches, two quizzing glasses, two flowers, and two handkerchiefs. Woe to those men who only had one pocket watch with them. They would soon run out of forfeits. For eventually, they would have to take off their shoes and cravats, followed by their boots, their coats ... even their waistcoats. Edmund had seen men stripped down to their undergarments and made to kiss not just one, but all the ladies in the room.
Edmund breathed a sigh of relief that he'd had the good sense to show up with a wife.
As for the games, Edmund had been lucky so far. He'd been declared the winner of 'Blindman's Buff,' and during 'musical chairs' he'd managed to grab a chair every time the music stopped. He'd only lost one game so far: 'Poor Kitty,' because Ellen, of all people, had been his partner and he'd failed to make her laugh. She'd kept a straight face throughout the game, even yawning once, and no amount of meowing and flattery had brought a smile to her face. He'd even tried to rub his head against her arm, as cats were wont to do when they wanted attention, and he'd meowed pitifully. While everyone else had burst into uncontrollable laughter, Ellen had looked at him with a haughty, schoolmarmish expression. Louisa had finally declared her the winner of the game.
He had to pay the forfeit, and dropped one of his pocket watches into the basket Louisa had provided. It was already full to the brim with fobs, rings, pendants, two pairs of shoes, a cravat, and even a coat.
Ellen, so far, had not paid any forfeits. However, she hadn't smiled for the rest of the evening. She looked pale and tired, and there was a deep furrow between her eyebrows. Edmund wondered if she was ill.
Louisa clapped her hands. "Time to cry forfeits!"
"Excellent," muttered Mr Tilney. "That means we can spend the rest of the evening playing cards."
Edmund gave him a satirical look. "This is your first time here, isn't it?"
Mr Tilney confirmed.
Edmund refrained from saying that the actual game had only just begun. He poured himself a glass of Madeira and sat back in his chair, legs and arms crossed.
Louisa tapped her finger on her lips. "Let's see. You know the rules? You must redeem your forfeits properly or not at all. I'll personally oversee this process and ensure that all penalties are paid. Mr Tilney, you are first."
Mr Tilney jumped up from his chair and rubbed his hands. "Very well. Let's get on with it! The sooner we can finish and move on to a game of cards, the better."
The gentlemen agreed.
"Stand here, Mr Tilney, and accept your penance: 'Bow to the wittiest, kneel to the prettiest, and kiss the one you love best.' And mind you, no kisses on the hand or cheek." Louisa's eyes twinkled. "It must be a proper kiss on the lips."
The men laughed. The women blushed. Mr Tilney's face was priceless. "But ... "
"No butting around, Tilney. Be a man! The best thing is to get it over with," said Monteroy.
"Very well." Tilney walked over to Louisa and bowed. No one could contest that she was the wittiest in the room. Then he knelt down in front of Miss Mary, who was pretty indeed, a delicate flower with a pale complexion. Mary stepped back and blushed. And then, whispering an oath under his breath, he stepped up to the lady next to her, Miss Anne, begged her forgiveness and planted a quick kiss on her astonished lips.
Everyone roared. The men slapped him on the shoulders. Tilney, his cheeks flushed, dared not meet Miss Anne's eyes, which sparkled.
Louisa smiled, satisfied. The first couple had been matched.
So it went, penance after penance, all involving kisses in the most creative ways. Some gentlemen who'd been given the penance of kissing the lady of their heart chose to kiss all the ladies in the room rather than reveal where his true heart lay.
"Is it always like this?" Mr Tilney wiped his brow. He'd just kissed Lady Eleanor, who insisted on a proper kiss, not just a mere peck.
"The worst is yet to come," Dunstan prophesied.
And so it was.
Lady Cynthia had to kiss Monteroy as many times as she guessed his age; if she got it wrong, she had to start again. Predictably, she got it wrong.
