“Ifind it deucedly difficult to sleep at night at Birch House,” Lady Tottenham said with a sigh. “The crickets are far too loud.”
My hand tightened on Alexander’s arm. Every time I thought Lady Tottenham’s house party activities couldn’t possibly become more shocking, I was proven wrong. At the one dinner party I had attended of hers, she had caused a stir by serving dessert topped with dried crickets. It was her speciality.
“Therefore, my groundskeeping staff catches them from the shrubs, bushes, and hedgerows for me,” she continued. “I am not so cold-hearted as to allow them to go to waste.” She smiled lovingly at the creatures on the tray. “Though a little peculiar, they make an excellent addition to any feast. All they need is a little salt or sugar.”
Her words rang in my ears.
Peculiar…feast.
I closed my eyes against the sight of the crickets on the tray. “Blast itto Cumbria and back,” I hissed under my breath.
Alexander seemed to have made the same realization I had, except he wasn’t nearly as distressed. He smiled down at me, eyes gleaming with amusement. “You ate those twenty-three pastries for nothing.”
“Not for nothing,” I snapped. “They were delicious.”
He laughed, his entire body shaking to suppress it. I squeezed his arm just hard enough to hurt. It only made his smile widen. “I hope you’re hungry,” he whispered.
My hairline was wet with perspiration. How on earth would I be able to eat twenty-three of those crunchy little creatures? I had a stronger stomach than most. I could do it. I had to. My efforts the night before to obtain the next clue had been wasted. I couldn’t give up now, no matter how entertained Alexander would be. I shushed him as he tried to tease me again, straining my ears to hear Lady Tottenham’s instructions.
“The game will be played in teams. I will ask a question or pose a riddle to be solved, and the first team to guess the answer correctly, will win five points. The losing team will have to select a player to go to the table and eat a cricket. The game will continue until all the crickets on your team’s tray have been eaten. If a player chooses to eat more than one cricket, each additional cricket will count as a point toward their team’s total score, and bring them closer to clearing their tray. As you can see, there are multiple ways to win.” Lady Tottenham glanced up with a sigh. “Let us hope it doesn’t rain. No one likes soggy crickets.” She picked up a cricket from one tray and popped it in her mouth.
The crunching sound brought Mrs. Fitzgibbon to tears. She turned away from the table, rushing toward the back of the group. Mr. Lymington handed her his handkerchief, a grim expression on his face.
Miss Rowley’s cheeks were pale, a hint of green under her skin. She pressed a hand to her stomach.
Octavia smiled, leaning forward to examine the trays more closely. “What do they taste like?” she asked with fascination.
Lady Tottenham pursed her lips. “They have a unique taste, but most akin to almonds, roasted legumes, or seeds.”
“Hmm,” Alexander said with a grin. “I like legumes.” His gaze found mine. “Do you?”
I filled my lungs, squaring my shoulders. “I love them.”
He chuckled, and the sound brought a laugh out of my own mouth. It was all so ridiculous, I could hardly believe it. The smiling creases at the corners of Alexander’s eyes made the nerves in my stomach relax. This game didn’t need to be dreadful. It could be as enjoyable as we made it. It felt good to laugh. The tension in my shoulders softened, and I breathed a little easier.
I made eye contact with one of the crickets on the tray, and my stomach turned sour. I closed my eyes. They werelegumes.Not crickets.Delicious little legumes,I repeated in my mind.With eyes and legs and antennae.
Lady Tottenham divided us into two teams. I stood on one side of the grass with Mrs. Pike, Mr. Lymington, Miss Morton, Miss Rowley, Mr. St. Vincent, and Alexander. The other seven stood across from us.
“You must decide as a team if you prefer sweet or salted,” Lady Tottenham said. “I have ensured the two trays have an equal number of crickets.”
My team formed a circle facing one another.
“Shall we request salted?” Mr. St. Vincent asked. His gruff voice matched his exterior perfectly.
Mrs. Pike gulped. “Sweet sounds more tolerable to me.”
“Are you actually going to eat crickets?” Mr. St. Vincent scoffed.
“I will in order to help my team,” she said, though her pallor belied her words.
Mr. Lymington nodded. “As will I.” He cast an admiring glance in Mrs. Pike’s direction, to which she responded with a bashful smile. Another of Lady Tottenham’s intended matches seemed to be forming.
“I would choose salted,” Miss Morton said.
Miss Rowley scowled. “No! Sweet.”
“Does it really matter?” Alexander asked, his deep voice silencing the circle. “They’re still crickets either way.”
