Was Miss Leigh his Mystery Lady?
It was a pleasant thought, for it would resolve David’s troubles quite easily. The question of his attraction would be settled, and his Mystery Lady’s response to that evening would remove any doubt as to whether or not Miss Leigh would welcome his advances. In truth, it wrapped up this quest in a nice and tidy package. Simple.
He let out a heavy sigh and sank into his seat once more; resting his hand against the arm of the chair, he drummed a rapid beat against blue fabric. The prospect was enticing but ignored reality and all the evidence set against it.
Miss Leigh hadn’t been wearing fancy dress.
That was an indisputable fact.
He’d seen so with his own eyes.
And Miss Leigh’s feelings were clear on the subject. For years, her family had attempted to force her into the frivolity, and never once had she bent to those attempts. Not only did she not approve the expense of the costumes, but Miss Leigh would never surrender her spectacles and embrace blindness for the evening; David couldn’t imagine a scenario in which the lady would willingly make herself so vulnerable.
For all that it would be nice to resolve the question so easily, life was rarely so straightforward, and David couldn’t deny the truth.
Miss Leigh couldn’t be the Mystery Lady.
Chapter 29
“Forfeit!”
The single word echoed across throughout the Breadmores’ drawing room, bringing with it a gale of laughter as Mrs. Leggatt stripped off her blindfold to discover that the gentleman whom she couldn’t identify was her very own husband. Mr. Leggatt waggled his brows at her as she gaped at the man, shaking her finger at him whilst warning of the dire consequences that awaited him at home.
“Peace, my lady,” he said, rising to his feet and giving her knuckles a buss as he offered her his seat and took her place in the center of the gathering.
“She isn’t free yet,” called Mr. Ewings.
But Mr. Leggatt silenced that with an arched brow, adding, “A husband knows when to throw himself on his blade. We’ll be here all night paying back her forfeits if I do not.”
His wife gaped and swiped a teasing smack at him, which he dodged before tying the blindfold around his eyes.
“You’d best check that it’s firm,” said Mrs. Leggatt, crossing her arms, though her eyes sparked with laughter. “He likes to cheat.”
Mr. Leggatt gasped with all the drama of a stage actress, lifting up the blindfold to stare at his wife with mock-innocence. “I never cheat at Buffy Guffy. It is a very serious game, and I am offended that you would impugn my honor in such a way. It is unforgivable!”
Slipping the blindfold back in place, he stood in the center of the group, but Miss Breadmore swept up behind him, shifting her forfeit ledger under one arm as she tightened the bit of cloth and adjusted it to properly cover his eyes.
“Thank you for securing it,” he said. “I would hate to be tempted to peek.”
“Steady on,” said Mr. Leggatt.
Miss Breadmore nodded at the circle of people all seated around him, and they quickly rose and shifted places, firmly scrambling their ranks. Stretching out his legs, David watched as Mr. Leggatt inched towards Mrs. Fitzgibbon, who struggled not to laugh. Holding her hands to her mouth, she stared up at Mr. Leggatt as he fumbled his way around the circle to stop before one of the players.
At his side, Miss Sheridan turned towards him. With a hand clasped over her mouth, her eyes were ablaze with a laugh, and David couldn’t help but respond in kind. Despite having only spoken with her briefly before the games, it was clear she was a lively soul with a kind heart, and it was easy enough to enjoy her company.
Miss Sheridan reminded him of Mrs. Rosanna Tate. Not in looks, for though the young lady was quite pretty, she boasted dark ringlets and rich brown eyes as opposed to Mrs. Tate’s fair coloring. However, she shared that lady’s presence and magnetism—an ease around others that drew them to her like bees to honey. And for all that Mrs. Leigh had objected to the young lady’s age, even a short conversation proved her to be intelligent, witty, and self-possessed, with the bearing of a lady beyond her years.
Mrs. Tate had been correct, and all the hours he’d spent with the other candidates only served to further the point. If any of the four were his Mystery Lady, it was Miss Sheridan. Even without that possibility, David would have found her appealing. Her easy manners, quick wit, and beauty all recommended her.
Miss Sheridan’s eyes were aglow as she met his gaze, but when the group erupted in laughter, her attention was torn away from him.
David drew in a deep breath, his attention waning from the game as Mr. Leggatt began his attempts to ascertain the identity of the person seated before him. With exaggerated movements, and adopting a voice that sounded like that of a young miss rather than a married man, he began to ask questions, hoping to elicit some extraneous sound that might give the person’s identity away. But Mrs. Fitzgibbon was a terrible player and struggled to contain her answer to the solitary grunt that was required.
The Breadmores were excellent hosts, providing ample entertainment and food to delight their guests, yet David couldn’t throw himself into the thick of things—which was clear enough when he considered how many forfeits he’d earned himself already this evening. His thoughts were far too occupied to invest in the game before him.
David joined in with the laughter as Mrs. Fitzgibbon’s identity was quickly and easily guessed (despite the lady always seeming so genuinely surprised at having been caught), but his gaze drifted through the room. Leaden Court was a fine townhome. Though by no means as large as the estates circling town, it was perfect for functions such as these. Large rooms with space aplenty for the various entertainments that were scattered throughout the house.
But it wasn’t the autumnal floral arrangements dispersed around the drawing room or the myriad of candles burning bright that caught his attention. It was his sister. As this was the largest room, this was where the Breadmores had chosen to hold the active parlor games, and the long shape of the room allowed for plenty of space in which onlookers could gather to watch. Flora stood in a far corner, her wide eyes staring at the gentleman standing before her as her shoulders rounded.
