“Twelve,” Letitia said simultaneously.
A pause.
“When did it become twelve?” William asked.
“After the second round.”
“You said nothing about it becoming twelve after the second round.”
“I said the numerical values would adjust dynamically. That was in the foundation.”
“That was not in the foundation. There was no foundation. You said the game was simple and that we would understand it as we went.”
“And you are understanding it as you go. It is working exactly as described.”
William looked at James.
James looked back.
“Play the card,” he said.
“Which card?”
“The one that seems most likely to survive the next rule change.”
William looked at his hand. “That is not a strategy.”
“It is tonight’s strategy,” James sighed. “Adapt.”
It was the next day after dinner, and they were in the drawing room with the card table pulled to the center and the fire built high and the remnants of dinner still warm in the memory of the evening. Briggs produced a second decanter and promptly withdrew, and the lamps were lit and the curtains drawn against the windy night.
William made a sound of profound reluctance and played a card.
Letitia immediately brightened, which was either good or terrible depending on one’s position at the table, and no one was entirely sure which.
“Partners consult,” she announced.
William looked up. “That was not a rule.”
“It is now.”
“You cannot simply?—”
“William.” Cecily put her hand on his arm. “Let it happen.”
“She keeps?—”
“William.”
“Partners consult,” Letitia repeated, with satisfaction. “Two minutes. James and Isadora, you are together. Cecily and I—” She looked at Cecily.
“I am not partnering with you,” Cecily declared. “You change the rules.”
“I evolve the rules. There is a?—”
“I will partner with William,” she said serenely.
Letitia looked briefly betrayed. “That is a terrible partnership. They will communicate without speaking, and it will be deeply unfair.”
