Emily met Sophia’s gaze and nodded firmly. “Splendid idea, Soph.” Guilt found her again, but she silenced it with the affirmation that she was doing this for Rhoda. Well, partly for herself, but mostly for Rhoda.
But what about poor Lord Carlisle?That niggling voice persisted. Shouldn’t he be given the opportunity to choose his own wife? Should he not be awarded his own chance at love?
She argued back that he was nearly three decades old, at least. If he’d been searching for love, wouldn’t he have found it already? And it wasn’t as though Emily wouldn’t be a good wife to him. She supposed she’d eventually grow rather fond of him.
“Just so everyone knows the rules. One person hides. After the others count to one hundred, they seek the person out. When they discover him or her, they take cover as well. The last person to find the packed-in sardines is the loser.”
“Any rules about where a person can hide, Soph?” Rhoda piped in.
“Er…” Sophia looked adorably thoughtful. “Bedchambers are off limits. And the nursery, of course.”
“Of course,” Cecily agreed.
“Very well. Who shall be the first person to hide?” Coleus’ enthusiasm looked hardly containable.
“I’ll think of a number between one and twenty. Whoever comes the closest wins.” And then she winked at Emily.
Of course, Lord Carlisle’s number was closest to Sophia’s.
The earl smiled obligingly and rose. “No bedchambers and avoid the nursery, then.” At Sophia’s nod, he walked toward the door.
“Everybody close their eyes now.” Sophia hushed those who complained of this, in case the person who was “it” wanted to hide within the drawing room, and then she began slowly counting. When everybody’s eyes were closed, she waved Emily out of the room.
Emily crept out, guessing that the earl would remain downstairs. He wouldn’t truly wish to stay hidden for a very long time. He didn’t seem to be the competitive sort. Blakely would likely hide somewhere that would take forever…
But she wasn’t thinking about Blakely.
Carlisle. A former vicar…
He’d likely gone into one of the more public rooms. She heard a door close in that direction and followed the sound on tiptoes.
But he’d not gone into the library, she realized quickly. He’d entered a closet. A thump and the sound of fabric scratching against the wall gave him away easily.
She sprinted back to the drawing room and entered quietly.
“Ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred!” Everyone’s eyes opened.
Emily did her best to slow her breaths.
“Good Lord, Sophia,” Coleus complained. “You’re the slowest counter I’ve ever played with!”
But Emily didn’t wait around to listen. “I thought I heard him heading toward the attic,” she said, as though thinking out loud.
Most of the party took off toward the stairs. Rhoda smiled wickedly in her direction. “I imagine he’d head for the kitchens.” The other half followed Rhoda mindlessly.
Emily returned to the closet. She pinched her cheeks, tucked her spectacles into her skirt pocket, and checked her hair.
She then slipped inside.
As soon as she stepped in, she knew she’d been right. He wore a soothing cologne, or soap or whatnot. Bergamot. She sensed it immediately.
“Lord Carlisle?”
He groaned. “You found me in no time at all!”
But she knew what she must do. “Hush. We don’t wish to be discovered.” She sidled her way between some coats until one of her hands brushed up against him.
“Miss Goodnight?” It was very dark.
