Georgiana smiled. “Oh, all right. But I do not wish to guess names. I am terrible at guessing.”
“But you must.” Sir Ronald tied the yellow handkerchief over Georgiana’s eyes as the rest of us scattered about the room. “That is my favorite part.”
“Don’t forget to spin her,” Beatrice called, an edge of competition in her voice.
Georgiana smiled as she reached out her hand to Sir Ronald. He took it and lifted their joined hands above her head. She twirled under the arch of his arm, giggling as she spun. At the count of ten, he released her, then darted across the room to find his own spot. Clara sucked at her teeth, glaring at Georgiana’s aimless steps.
“You should’ve volunteered,” I whispered into her ear on a breath, but Clara only rolled her eyes.
Georgiana giggled with outstretched arms, turning on a heel in pursuit of any sound. She walked dangerously close by Mr. Bratten, who stood straight as a board.
As she neared Peter, he jumped a chair, knocking over Lieutenant Rawles’s stack of military books in his wake.
“Who was that?” Georgiana asked.
“He’s to your left!” Peter called breathless, and Georgiana hurled herself leftward directly into Sir Ronald’s chest.
“Who do you have?” Beatrice called. “She must guess! It’s the rule of the game!”
“Oh, let her be. She’s uncomfortable,” Lieutenant Rawles grumbled admirably.
But Georgiana simply grasped Sir Ronald by the arms to examine him. He stood perfectly still as she traced up his coat with her fingers, further up to his neck and then to his face. She giggled as she thumbed his smooth jaw, ran her hands over his nose, and tugged at his hair. “Sir Ronald?”
He took off her blindfold, gazing at her with mirth, and she shrieked in delight, hugging him around his neck. Surprise rippled through the company. Even Peter, whose frown and raised brow were in contrast to his usual smile, seemed taken aback by Georgiana’s forwardness. Everyone relaxed in the next moment, though, save Clara, who looked as though she wanted to pop Georgiana on the nose with her clenched fist.
“Well done,” Peter clapped. “Demsworth’s turn.”
“I think I am ready to retire,” Clara whispered softly, pulling my arm into hers. I could not blame her. We were certainly the odd ones out in the room, knowing no one beyond our host, while they all knew each other so well. But then, why had we been invited? There must be something here for Clara.
“One more round,” I whispered. “Let us watch Sir Ronald make a fool of himself.”
While Georgiana twirled Sir Ronald, I distracted Clara by pointing out Mr. Bratten, who was smoothing his hair in a mirror along the wall.
“Ten,” Georgiana called, racing behind a nearby chair. Sir Ronald was neither slow nor timid, taking long strides toward walls, tables, and chairs. He barely missed Lieutenant Rawles, who leaped backward behind the pianoforte just in time.
“Where are you, Rawles? I can hear your breathing every time you move.” Sir Ronald tilted his head, waiting.
“Trying to pin me?” the lieutenant said, poking Sir Ronald in the back before flying to his left. “There is nothing like a sea of bullets flying at your rear to make you learn how to dodge rather quickly in war, Demsworth.”
Just then, Peter pushed Georgiana straight at Sir Ronald. He was mere moments from reaching out and grasping her again. She feigned terror, backtracking slowly. Clara pursed her lips, shaking her head slightly. Not again. Clara could not be subject to this again.
Thinking fast, I tipped over the chair beside me, but I hadn’t considered my own proximity to Sir Ronald, and he whipped around, grasping a handful of my skirts.
“There you are!” he laughed. “But wait. Whoareyou?”
Georgiana’s smile held disappointment, but Clara beamed. Whether at my intervention or my being caught I could not know, but her brightened countenance was worth it all.
“Hmm.” Sir Ronald found my hands, tracing them with his thumbs, then up my arms with a half nervous smile upon his face. I blushed to be touched so freely, and by the man my sister hoped to marry. His hands reached my face, where he felt my cheeks, my eyebrows, and the curve of my nose. Then to my hair, where he tugged on a curl, chewing his lip in thought. After a moment, he ventured, “Miss Clara?”
The room waited in silence as I lifted his blindfold, peeking under it at him. The hope in his eyes dissipated when he saw me, replaced by humor and embarrassment.
“Ah, Miss Moore! You bear a likeness to your sister. A fool, I am!”
“We are nearly the same size, though I am older. You should have felt for wrinkles and gray hair, Sir Ronald.”
Everyone laughed, and I looked to Clara. Her smile had faded, but she reclaimed it when she caught my stare. If only she could be standing in my position. I was not interested in the least in playing the blind man.
But I had no choice. Sightless and wobbly with the blindfold in place, I followed the sounds of light footsteps which seemed to come from every direction.
