Page 3 of A Game of Hearts

Emma held her breath with the rest of the unmarried ladies. She found herself fervently hoping that she would not be chosen. After their clash at dinner, two weeks of forced partnership would be torture.

“Miss Emma Everton.”

The silence that followed seemed to stretch forever. Emma forced herself to smile as Lord Limnwood turned to bow to her, his expression as rigid as ever. She rose and curtsied, perfectly aware of Lady Anne’s furious gaze boring into her back.

“What a fortuitous pairing,” Lady Anne’s voice carried just loudly enough to reach Emma’s ears. “Though I fear some may find the activities rather... challenging. Not everyone is suited to proper society entertainments.”

Emma lifted her chin, refusing to show how the barb stung.

She was a Baronet’s daughter, perfectly well trained in proper behaviour. That she chose not to be rigid and joyless did not make her less suited to society.

After that, as the last few gentlemen drew their partners, Emma was in something of a mental haze. How on earth would she manage to cope with two weeks in the close company of a man so unsociable?

Finally, the last names were drawn.

“How delightful!” The Duke clapped his hands. “And now, let us have some music. The first of our Valentine’s activities will begin tomorrow morning after breakfast.”

Emma sank back into her chair, her mind still whirling. Two weeks. She would have to partner with Lord Limnwood for two whole weeks of activities.

As the evening drew to a close, Emma caught Lord Limnwood watching her with that same disapproving expression. She met his gaze steadily, refusing to be intimidated. If he thought to manage her into rigidly proper behaviour by stern looks alone, he would soon learn otherwise. She might have to partner with him, but she did not have to become the prim, lifeless creature he seemed to prefer.

The next fortnight promised to be quite a battle of wills.

*****

Nathaniel stood at the library window, a barely touched glass of brandy in his hand, watching moonlight silver the formal gardens. Behind him, the gentle clink of glasses and murmur of masculine conversation filled the room, but he found himself unable to focus on any of it.

His mind kept returning to the flash of defiance in Miss Everton’s remarkable violet eyes.

“Come now, brother, surely the prospect of partnering the loveliest girl at the houseparty isn’t that dire?”

James appeared at his elbow, his own glass significantly emptier.

“Lovely she may be, but her behaviour...”

Nathaniel shook his head.

“Ah yes, heaven forbid a young lady should actually enjoy herself.” James’ tone held a sharp edge beneath its usual lightness. “Tell me, when did you become such a stick in the mud? You weren’t always like this.”

“When I learned what can happen when people ignore the rules of proper behaviour.”

The words came out harsher than he had intended.

“Miss Everton is hardly likely to cause a scandal by participating in a few parlour games,” James pointed out. “Though I noticed that Lady Anne seemed quite put out by the lottery’s result.”

“Lady Anne’s disappointment is not my concern.”

“No? She was quite determined to catch your eye last Season. Impeccable manners, perfect propriety... exactly what you claim to want in a wife.”

Nathaniel turned to study his brother’s face.

“You sound as if you disapprove.”

“Of Lady Anne? Let’s just say I’ve seen her perfect manners slip once or twice when she thought that no one of consequence was watching. Miss Everton, on the other hand...”

James paused meaningfully.

“Yes?”