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Most of the guests had arrived and settled into their respective bedchambers. Surely if Francine were in the family way, she’d be intent on finding a husband, even if the Willoughbys were George Templeton’s relations.

Francine’s absence also bespoke Jack’s innocence, and Aubriella breathed a trifle easier. Though why she should fret about the consequences of his actions wasn’t the least logical.

The house party activities officially began with archery and sketching this morning, decorating greenery to festoon the mansion this afternoon, and gambling and charades this evening.

A schedule chock full of daily activities culminated in a grand ball on Christmas Eve where Aubriella was sure to forget a step or trod upon her partners’ feet—if anyone partnered her.

Last year, only Papa, Emmet, and Lenora’s husband, Stephen Langford, had done so, much to Aubriella’s chagrin. This year, she’d intended to find a cozy alcove to read in until supper was served at midnight.

It did rather wear on one’s pride being relegated to the status of an undesirable.

The exuberant quartet burst into laughter, and several guests, including Aubriella, glanced in their direction. Oblivious to the attention they’d drawn, they rose from the table and departed the dining room; the women arm in arm and the gentlemen with their heads together.

Were they related?

“I must work on my charades clue.” Matilda rested her elbow on the table, her chin on her fist. “I don’t want to make it too easy.”

For variety, Mabel insisted each guest create at least one clue per game.

Aubriella loathed charades.

All that ridiculous posturing and gesturing, not to mention the preposterous clues.

How did one contrive such absurd rhyming riddles and conundrums?

For certain, she’d never been able to compose anything remotely clever and had long since stopped trying. Jessamine had written a riddle for Aubriella’s topics for the past three years, and they’d been ghastly.

Hives. Sleepwalking. Gout.

She still shuddered at the memories.

Hopeless at everything but sketching, Aubriella had already decided to hide away in the library’s loft. Over the years, she’d learned her presence was rarely missed. Except sometimes by her family and dearest friends, who understood her desire to remain elusive.

That unfortunate truth ought to sting more than it did, but always pragmatic, she refused to sulk or pout over what she couldn’t control.

She had hoped that with Jack’s help, this yuletide might be different. That she might look forward to the caroling, games, decorations, stirring the Christmas pudding, and mayhap a sleigh ride.

Foolish ninny. Goose.

A tiny sigh escaped her, earning her a sharp look from Roxina, who knew her better than any other living soul since their days in finishing school together.

“Are you quite well, Aubriella?” Roxina asked. “You seem a trifle preoccupied.”

“Fit as a fiddle. Content as a cat.” Aubriella fashioned what she hoped was a bright smile. “Bright as a button. Happy as a hare.”

Mayhap too much?

Sable eyebrows high on her forehead, Roxina snorted in disbelief.

Yes, definitely too much.

Aubriella tempered her expression and tone to a more believable mien. “And looking forward to today’s activities.”

Liar.

“Now I know you’re either ailing or touched in the head.” Suspicion narrowed Roxina’s chestnut-brown eyes. “I’d wager you’d rather eat slugs and grubs than participate in today’s events. Or the activities scheduled for the entire fortnight.”

“You’re wrong, Roxina, and you’d lose that bet.” Aubriella widened her smile to such a degree her face might crack. “I’ve determined to enjoy myself this year.”

She leaned near her friend. “We might even add a few wagers to our books. There’s always something worth betting on at an extended house party.”

Matilda and Roxina exchanged a she’s-blathering-like-a-madwoman glance.

“And what makes this year different?” Skepticism riddled Roxina’s question.

But then again, Roxina was the most sardonic woman Aubriella had ever known. She trusted few women and men not at all.

That was her brother’s doing as well.

“May I join you?”

Glancing over her shoulder, Aubriella barely suppressed her astonished gasp.

Jack.