He held her gaze as he spoke, willing her to hear the words he left unsaid—thatshealone had wrought the change. That every moment in her company had schooled him in humility, growth, and love. Before she could reply, a voice broke the silence between them.
“Lizzy! Come, it is time to play!” Lydia’s shrill summons cut through the hum of conversation as she bounded toward them, bright-eyed and breathless. “Oh, and Mr. Darcy, you must come too! We are playingThe Minister’s Cat! You simply must—it is new to me, and I have never played it!”
Elizabeth gave him an apologetic glance as Lydia seized her arm with all the force of sisterly enthusiasm. “You need not, of course.”
“I would be delighted,” Darcy replied gently, surprising even himself with the readiness of his answer.
“Indeed?” One side of her mouth curved in a half-smile that dared him to prove it.
“Most assuredly, madam. Though I have never played the game, I should imagine it will not prove too difficult to follow.”
“I should not have thought children’s games would tempt you.”
“They never have,” he admitted, “but I suspect they may…in certain company.”
“You mean to say you expect me to guide you?”
“I should count myself fortunate if you did,” he returned, lowering his voice so she alone could hear. “Though I warn you, I learn quickly.”
“Then prepare yourself. I do not surrender easily.”
“Nor do I,” he said, allowing the faintest smile, “but perhaps I may be persuaded—once—if the victory is yours.”
Her cheeks tinged with color as a gentle laugh escaped her and gave him a look that was part amusement, part admiration. “Very well. We shall see, Mr. Darcy. Let us see how you rise to the challenge. I should not like you to forfeit so soon.”
This time, he threw Elizabeth an apologetic look as her sister returned to tug him away. Darcy followed Miss Lydia into the drawing room, wondering whether any other gentlemen present could claim such delight at the prospect of playing a child’s game—solely for the chance to sit beside a certain lady.
He suspected not.
The laughter in Haye Park’s drawing room rang like cheerful bells as the group gathered into a circle, cushions scattered on the floor and chairs pulled close. A roaring fire blazed in the hearth, and half-eaten ginger biscuits and spiced cake lay neglected on side tables.
“The Minister’s Cat!” Lydia cried gleefully, bouncing in place. “We must play. It has been too long since we enjoyed such a merry party present for parlor games.” She darted forward, weaving through chairs and card tables like a child set loose in a confectioner’s shop. “Kitty! Mary!” she called, arms flung wide. “We are playing the Minister’s Cat! Everyone must join!”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth said, beaming. “Kitty, will you explain the rules?”
“Of course,” her sister replied, already giggling. “We must describe the cat with an adjective beginning with the letter given. Any mistake, hesitation, or repetition, and you are out!”
Darcy, all pretended sobriety, composed himself with exaggerated solemnity. “A game of vocabulary and precision? I shall do my utmost to refrain from humiliating myself.”
Elizabeth’s lips curved. “I dare say you will manage it, sir.”
The game began with A.
“The minister’s cat is anamiablecat,” Jane offered sweetly.
“The minister’s cat is anarrogantcat,” declared Sanderson, puffing out his chest.
“The minister’s cat is anabominablecat,” Elizabeth pronounced with mock severity, earning a chuckle from Captain Denny.
“The minister’s cat is anambidextrouscat,” Darcy said smoothly, allowing the corners of his mouth to lift. Elizabeth’s answering glance suggested she had noticed.
Round followed round, and players began to falter as the letters advanced. Miss Lydia lost at C by calling the cat bothcheerfulandcharming—Miss Kitty had already used both. She pouted, then scampered off to the side with Denny in tow. John Lucas was undone at F, describing the cat as “fantastic” after Arnold Goulding had already said the same, which earned groans and laughter. Goulding himself stumbled on H, blinking furiously before blurting, “The minister’s cat is a...a...heavenly cat!”—but he had already lost the rhythm.
Miss Kitty managed to reach J before dissolving into helpless giggles, forgetting her word entirely.
“Out, dear sister,” Miss Mary said primly. “The minister’s cat is ajudiciouscat.”
Sanderson fared better, glancing often toward Mary with a smile that seemed to please her and brought a deep blush to her cheeks. She even missed a beat once, though no one called her out. At P, however, Sanderson faltered.
