Page 35 of A Game of Hearts

Emma smoothed the silver-grey silk of her afternoon gown, conscious that its colour perfectly matched a certain pair of eyes. She had chosen it with particular care, knowing that the afternoon’s entertainment would keep her much in Lord Limnwood’s company.

“The Duke has arranged the most romantic scenes for the tableaux,” Lady Beatrice enthused as they made their way to the drawing room. “Though I notice that Lady Anne looked rather pleased about something at luncheon. I don’t trust that expression of hers at all.”

“Nor should you.” Emma kept her voice low. “Though at present, I find myself much too happy to care overmuch about her schemes.”

“I should think so!” Lady Beatrice squeezed her arm. “The way that Lord Limnwood looked at you at breakfast...” Lady Beatrice squeezed her arm. “I thought that the room might catch fire from the heat of his gaze alone. And don’t tell me that you didn’t notice - I saw you blush every time your eyes met.”

“Beatrice!”

But Emma couldn’t help smiling at the memory. They had maintained perfectly proper behaviour at breakfast, yet somehow every glance, every careful word, had felt laden with meaning after their shared moment in the woods. The memory of his kiss made her heart race even now, though she scarcely dared examine too closely what it might truly mean.

The drawing room had been transformed for the afternoon’s entertainment. Footmen had arranged chairs in a semicircle facing an area cleared for the performances. Screens created a makeshift stage at one end, with small chambers on either side for participants to prepare.

“Ah, excellent!” The Duke beamed at the assembled company. “For our first entertainment, we shall have charades. Then, after tea, tableaux vivants depicting famous romantic scenes from literature and mythology. Each couple will participate in both activities.”

Emma’s heart quickened as Lord Limnwood appeared beside her, bowing perfectly.

“Miss Everton.” His voice gave nothing away, but his eyes held warmth that made her breath catch. “I trust that you are recovered from this morning’s adventure?”

“Entirely, my Lord. Though I might hope for less exciting pursuits this afternoon?”

“I fear that may not be possible.” His lips twitched slightly. “I see that we are to perform the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet in the tableaux.”

Emma’s pulse jumped. The balcony scene? She would have to stand above him, gazing down with a lovestruck expression while he looked up adoringly... which, she had to admit, would require very little acting on either of their parts.

“How... appropriate,” she managed.

“Indeed.” His voice became suddenly uneven. “Though perhaps we might focus on the charades first? I believe that we are in the first group to perform.”

They moved toward the screens, passing Lady Anne deep in conversation with a footman. Emma saw her press something into the man’s hand - a note? - but before she could observe more, they reached their preparation area.

“We are to act out ‘devotion’,” Lord Limnwood said quietly as they consulted their instructions.

His voice held an undercurrent that made her pulse quicken. Emma’s cheeks warmed.

“Though perhaps we should be careful not to be too... convincing?”

“Are you afraid that I might forget myself, Miss Everton?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “After this morning’s... adventure... I find myself particularly aware of the need for proper behaviour. In public, at least.”

The way he emphasised ‘in public’ sent shivers down her spine, reminding her all too vividly of their moment in the forest clearing. Before she could respond, the Duke called for the first performance to begin.

Their charade went perfectly - perhaps too perfectly. Emma knelt in pretended prayer while Nathaniel stood guard beside her, his hand resting protectively near her shoulder. The tenderness in his expression as he gazed down at her was entirely unfeigned, and she heard several sighs from their audience.

“Devotion!” Lady Beatrice called out almost immediately. “Oh, how perfectly done!”

“Indeed.” Lady Anne’s voice cut through the general approval. “Though one wonders if some performers might be drawing on... personal experience?”

Emma felt Lord Limnwood stiffen beside her as they returned to their seats. His hand brushed hers briefly - a gesture of reassurance that only she could see.

“I believe that it’s your turn, Lady Anne,” the Duke said pointedly. “Perhaps you might wish to focus on your own performance rather than critiquing others?”

Lady Anne’s lips tightened, but she rose and moved behind the screens with her partner. Emma barely noticed their performance, too aware of Lord Limnwood’s presence beside her, of maintaining the careful distance between them while surrounded by watchful eyes. As the charades concluded, footmen appeared with tea and refreshments. Lady Beatrice hurried to Emma’s side, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“You and Lord Limnwood were wonderful!” She clasped Emma’s hands. “Though perhaps a touch too convincing? I noticed Lady Anne looking quite put out.”

“Let her look,” Emma said quietly. “We have nothing to hide.”

“No?” Lady Beatrice’s smile widened. “Then why do you both keep watching each other when you think no one will notice?”