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Freddie stiffened slightly. What if someone had read over his shoulder as he wrote? There were several guests he would not put it past.

“Lord Stanhope,” Ari called out.

“A bit too obvious.” Stan shook his head. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, my lady.”

Ari frowned and folded her arms.

“Is it Lord Weymouth’s?” Miss Stroud called.

Freddie’s eyes widened, but he quickly schooled them. Had the lady been behind him? He couldn’t recall where she had been standing.

He shook his head and pushed out his lips in a look of disappointment for her. “My apologies, no.”

She looked as if she didn’t believe him.

People made several more guesses before Lady Dalmeer asked for the writer to declare themselves.

Fin lifted a hand. “I believe that’s an extra serving of pudding for me.”

Lady Dalmeer glared at him. “I should have known as much, my lord.”

Freddie glanced over at Fin and lifted his chin in thanks. Fin just nodded.

Freddie squeezed his wife’s hand. It had been a close call. He was no longer a bachelor who could say or do whatever he pleased. He had a wife. And he had a responsibility to her. From then on, he vowed to think before he spoke—or wrote—anything. Especially that which might hurt Pippy.

Twenty-Two

Pippy sat in her sitting room, looking over the script for the play they were to perform that evening. A footman had given it to her when she left the breakfast room this morning.

Freddie had declined his role. He was hunting with the gentlemen and had used it as an excuse for why he could not participate. He’d seemed to think it humorous that she had no such excuse and thus had a part to play.

If you could call hers a part—she was a maid with one line.

Pippy slammed the pages closed and threw them to the side. She need not read the whole script for one line.

Besides, everyone knew it was simply a poor version of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. And Mr. Kendrick’s protestations that it was completely different because Hamlet was not a Christmas play were just absurd.

She had a mind to skip the whole thing. Surely she would not be missed. If she were not there to say, “More ale, mi’lord?” the whole play would not be ruined. She was certain of that.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Come,” she called.

Evie and Ari peeked in before opening the door wider and coming inside. “Oh, good. You’re here.”

She smiled. “Where might I have been?”

Ari shrugged. “One can never know what my aunt may come up with for you to do.”

Pippy picked up the play and held it up. “I was reading Mr. Kendrick’s play.”

“You mean Hamlet?” Evie said.

Pippy chuckled. “Yes, it is rather similar, is it not?”

“It’s very nearly the same.” Ari flopped onto the end of the sofa. “Father was beyond irritated. He says he flatly refuses to take part in such a farce.”

“Was he not to play Prince Alaric’s father and his ghost?” Pippy asked. Lord Kentwood’s absence would surely ruin the play.