Keeping my steps quiet, I crossed the room to the fireplace. The mantle was trimmed with carved wood. I examined every inch, not finding a single letter. I stepped back in frustration. I was looking in the wrong place. Those carvings had been there for more than a century. Even Lady Tottenham wouldn’t be wild enough to dig a knife into such a historic part of the house.
It had been nine days since I had been given that blasted clue, and I hadn’t made any progress in solving it. I had spent the days of the party adhering to Lady Tottenham’s schedule, following her rules, and convincing every guest at the house that Alexander and I were madly in love. The games carried on, but the crickets had been the worst of it. The week before, Lady Tottenham had been feeling unwell and had kept to her room for four days straight. Without a strict schedule or strange games to participate in, we had been free to spend the days at our own leisure.
Victoria and Mrs. Pike embroidered or played the pianoforte in the drawing room most afternoons, and I often joined them. Octavia preferred to be where the men were, outside riding horses, shooting arrows, playing croquet, or some other form of sport. She seemed to have given up on Alexander and had turned her attentions to Mr. Hatcher. He had been previously intrigued by Victoria, but it had only taken Octavia a day to steal his attention from her sister with her constant flirting. Mrs. Pike and Mr. Lymington seemed to be the perfect match, and he often joined her in the drawing room, quietly reading while she played music or stitched.
Alexander rarely associated with the other men of the party, and if he did, it was only with Mr. Amesbury and Mr. Lymington. The three of them often invited me to play whist, though Alexander and I were not a fair team. We won every time. Most afternoons, Alexander joined Mrs. Pike, Victoria, and me in the drawing room while we embroidered. I sat with him on the opposite side of the room, and he even allowed me to teach him how to embroider a simple flower. He only punctured his finger twice, and I felt horrible for laughing.
When Lady Tottenham was well again, she had resumed her games, including the midnight ones. I received four invitations over the course of the week to join the other weary guests in the parlor. Alexander and I were always invited to join on the same evenings, and I noticed that Octavia and Mr. Hatcher had been paired together as well. Mrs. Pike and Mr. Lymington arrived on the same evenings. As did Victoria and Mr. Amesbury, though she didn’t seem to be interested in him at all. The other three men—Lord Kirkham included—were only invited on rare occasions.
Lady Tottenham must have lost hope in the possibility of any of them making a match at her party.
Lord Kirkham no longer frightened me. My fake courtship had done its duty in deterring him. But I had developed a new fear over the course of the four midnight parlor games I had attended.
Kissing forfeits.
Victoria had been forced to kiss Mr. Amesbury after failing to write a suitable poem during a game of wit. Mrs. Pike had kissed Mr. Lymington after losing the game the night before. Each time Alexander and I had played a game as partners, we had managed to win. But there were enough evenings remaining at Birch House that I feared my luck would eventually run out.
Our friendship had finally become comfortable. My acting abilities had improved. Pretending to adore Alexander in public felt natural, though I reminded myself every day that it wasn’t natural at all. It was fake. We were not courting, we were pretending. Any stolen moments we took in the drawing room during the afternoons were strictly for the purpose of adding credibility to our act.Of coursewe would choose to spend our spare moments together if we had formed an attachment.
We would only confuse everyone if we didn’t.
I moved to the bookcase, checking the spines of all the volumes. I only had a few minutes before?—
I froze as the door unlatched behind me. I snatched a book from the shelf, pretending to read a page somewhere in the middle.
I looked up as the door opened. I slumped with relief. “I thought you were Lady Tottenham and her secret lover,” I said with a breathless laugh.
Alexander grinned. “Not to worry. It’s onlyyoursecret lover.”
I had learned to ignore remarks like that. He found my reactions far too entertaining. He had agreed to help me search the drawing room for clues before the other guests awoke and began roaming the house.
I shoved the book back into its place on the shelf before turning around. Alexander strode toward me, hands interlocked behind his back. He stopped to examine the bookshelf. His dark hair was more curled than usual, still slightly damp on the ends. He smelled of fresh soap and leather. His jaw was clean shaven, and I found myself staring at it for far too long.
His eyes met mine.
“You—you shaved,” I blurted.
A smile curved the edges of his lips. I stared at that too. “I can’t take the credit. The valet did it,” he said. “Have you found anything?”
It wasn’t fair how handsome he looked so early in the morning. The tan of his waistcoat brought out the warm tones of his eyes, and with his recent shave, a dimple that had never been apparent before made a dent near one side of his mouth.
I snapped my attention back to the bookcase, shaking my head. “I haven’t made any progress.”
“I’m beginning to think that Lady Tottenham might have sent you on a hopeless quest.” He drew my gaze back to his. “Either that, or she hasn’t revealed the next piece of the puzzle yet. She could be…testing your patience?”
I sighed. “I feel like I don’t know what I’m looking for. Surely it’s right in front of my nose, but I’m somehow missing it. Where am I to find the letters of her late husband’s name scattered around the house? And what do they mean if I do find them? We’re still not even certain Walter is the correct name at all. It could be anything, really.”
Alexander wandered toward the tea table as I rambled on about my frustrations. He bent down to examine something on the surface. His nose wrinkled with disgust. “Come and look at this.”
I stopped talking, hurrying over to his side. A footed glass bowl rested at the center of the tea table. Inside, slimy black creatures writhed back and forth in an inch of water, as if trying to escape the bowl. “Leeches?” I jerked back.
Alexander grimaced. “Would you eat twenty-three of those for another clue?”
“At the moment, I might consider it.”
His eyes rounded before a laugh burst out of him. “You might very well have the opportunity. They could be part of a game planned for today.”
My stomach twisted with dread. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”
