He’d felt like an utter fool being the only adult to play. Poor Indira, the girl who confessed her hatred of the game the day before, had been designated the seeker.
Yet, both his daughters and the Weatherby girls had their heads together in a conspiratorial conversation.
“What do you think they’re talking about?” Ashton’s son, Charles, asked.
“Who knows,” his older brother, Edmund, answered. “Girls. Who understands them?”
Colin chuckled. A bright lad.
The thought of having his own son to commiserate with about the perplexities of the female sex poked at his brain and tugged at his heart. He heaved a sigh.
“Does it become any better?” Edmund asked.
“I’m afraid not,” Colin answered truthfully.
When the convention of femininity ended, and Indira began to count to the requisite one hundred, the rest of the group disbanded to find hiding places. While children easily tucked away into nooks and crannies, secreting oneself away was much more difficult for a grown man.
Cassandra gave his hand a tug. “This way, Father. Iknow a good spot.”
As she led him to the ballroom, he shook his head. “There’s no place here for me, Cassie.”
“Yes, there is.” She’d pointed to a small closet the servants used to store extra linens, punch bowls, and the like.
Pushing him in and closing the door, Cassie left in a fit of giggles.
Resigned, he’d taken a seat on the floor and made himself comfortable to wait it out, even hiding behind a small curtained area protecting the fine china from dust. If the children demanded he play, he would make damn sure they had a hard time finding him. He’d chuckled to himself. They’d never ask him to play again! If nothing else, he would enjoy the moment of peace and quiet he’d talked about to his daughters on their journey there.
At least ithadbeen quiet. Until the door opened and someone else stepped inside.
The scent of sweet pea filled the tiny room. The familiar fragrance elicited tension in his shoulders as the shadowy figure of a petite woman joined him.
He remained deathly still. Pitch black in the minuscule space, perhaps she wouldn’t notice him. When he pulled himself into a tighter ball on the floor, he accidentally brushed against a broom.
Damnation.
Sharp, quick breaths sounded, followed by rustling skirts and scraping against the door.
Moments later, she shouted, “Indira! Let me out!”
Panic in her voice raised his own alarm. Why didn’t she simply open the door and exit?
He rose from his crouch and reached around her for the door handle, only to find it wouldn’t move.
Then she fainted. Dead in his arms.
The scamps!So this is what they were planning.He would have firm words with his daughters. But first he needed to get himself and Miss Weatherby out.
Crumpled in his arms, her body folded against his as he lowered them both to the floor. With no room to lie her down, he held her with one arm while he patted her cheeks.
Perhaps none too gently. But he was an honest man. He needed her alert, especially if anyone came to their rescue and found her lying on the floor with him hovering over her.
“Miss Weatherby. Miss Weatherby!”
His sight already adjusted to the lack of light, he breathed a sigh of relief when her eyelids fluttered and opened. Whites of her eyes glistened at him, and she blinked.
“Who is here?”
“It is I, Miss Weatherby. Lord Manning.” He softened his voice. “Colin.”
