Goggs flushed to the roots of his thinning brown hair.
“Besides, dancing is deuced dull,” Parnell went on. “This curst affair needs more than a few country sets to liven it up.”
“Agreed,” Wick said instantly. “A game, perhaps?”
“Precisely.” Parnell’s expression turned thoughtful.
At that moment, Miss Billings approached the group in a flurry of ribbons. She avoided Richard’s gaze. Egad, the feeling was mutual.
Addressing the others, she blurted, “I am indesperateneed of your help.”
“With what?” Miss Kent said.
“The guests aren’t mingling. It’s gone awfully quiet in here. The performers don’t arrive until tomorrow, so I’ll have to think of something to keep the party lively in the interim. Father says perhaps setting up card tables—”
“Cards are fine for the older set, Miss Billings, but I have a better suggestion for the younger guests,” Parnell said with studied insouciance.
Looking hopeful, Miss Billings said, “You do, my lord?”
“A parlor game. Hide-and-Go-Seek is all the rage in the upper echelons, especially amongst the unattached guests.”
“What a brilliant idea,” Miss Billings exclaimed. “Do you think everyone will play?”
“We’ll round ’em up for you. Just give us the word,” Goggs said helpfully.
Richard stood at the periphery with the Blackwoods, watching as Wick and his posse worked their charm, enticing all the single ladies and gentlemen into joining the game. Within minutes, a dozen or so players stood in a circle as Parnell dictated the rules. Miss Billings would be the seeker; everyone else had to go hide somewhere on the ground floor, and the last one to be found would be the winner. The guests milled excitedly, Violet Kent amongst them, her eyes vivid against her flushed cheeks. Looking far less enthused, Miss Turbett joined the group as well.
Wick came over and clapped Richard on the shoulder. “Ready, old fellow?”
Richard stared at his younger sibling. “I’m not playing.”
“Course you are. All unattached guests—that’s the rule.”
“That’s absurd.”
Although Wick’s expression remained pleasant, his tone hardened. “No more absurd than your plans for me. What happened towe’re in this together?”
Hell and damnation.Richard searched for an excuse. “I’m too old for games.”
“You’re hardly ancient, Carlisle.” Mischief danced in Lady Blackwood’s violet eyes. “Why, Lord Wormleigh is playing, and he’s got a couple of decades on you.”
Richard glanced at Wormleigh. The aging Lothario looked well into his cups and was winking broadly at all the single ladies.
“Don’t interfere, Penny,” Blackwood muttered to his wife.
Miss Kent ambled up. “Ready to play, Wick?”
“I’m not playing unless my brother does so as well,” Wick said stubbornly.
Miss Kent’s fine brows lifted. “Won’t you deign to join us, my lord?”
“No, thank you,” Richard bit out.
“I understand,” she said sweetly. “Losing is more difficult for some people than others.”
By Jove, why did the chit provoke him beyond bearing? In his entire life, no one had questioned his sportsmanship before. He might not be charming or popular, but healwaysconducted himself honorably in the realm of competition.
“I wouldn’t know. I play to win,” he growled.
