“I have an...”
He grinned and she blushed, looking down.
“What did you mean to say?” he asked quickly, his heart thudding.
“I have an idea,” she said swiftly. “How about “festivities?” As a word to act out, I mean.”
Callum frowned. “Is that not quite difficult?” he asked. “I mean, fes-ti-vi-ties.” He broke up the word into syllables. “None of the syllables have a meaning on their own.”
Miss Rothwell inclined her head. “True.” she paused. “But what if we use French meanings? If we divide the syllables differently, we have words with meanings in French.”
“French?” Callum blinked at her.
“Not because of any partiality to Napoleon,” Miss Rothwell demurred.
Callum grinned. “I think Lord Bronham, for one, would be a bit cross.”
“I imagine that many here might be,” Miss Rothwell replied, looking around the room. There were two men wearing military uniforms among the guests.
“Mm. So, maybe not French, then,” Callum said quickly. Given the recent Peninsular War against Napoleonic France, he was sure that would raise some ire among the guests, particularly any of them who had fought against Napoleon’s forces there or elsewhere.
“But it would work so well,” Miss Rothwell pleaded. “Festive-vite.”
Callum raised a brow, then grinned. “Yes! We could act out the fact that the second word has a meaning in French, too. Otherwise, it shan’t work.”
“Yes! I have a good idea!” Miss Rothwell said with evident enthusiasm.
Callum had never seen her so excited before. She glowed. They went over to the corner to whisper their ideas to one another.
Callum flushed, seeing eyes turning their way.There is no reason why I should not whisper into the ear of a woman with whom I will soon wed,he reminded himself.
His heart raced. The thought was staggering. He had made the arrangement without knowing a thing about her, and yet he had been blessed to discover a beautiful, witty woman with whom he could share many interests. The thought gave him a bold idea. His cheeks burned as he leaned in to whisper it to her.
“What?” Miss Rothwell gaped at him.
“Only if you would not be offended,” Callum said quickly, his entire body heating with a blush.
“Um...well, no,” she said, and her cheeks flushed pink in a way that made him smile as his heart pounded. “We have it!” Miss Rothwell declared after a moment or two.
“I think we have,” Callum agreed.
They went to sit down, and soon the rest of the guests were with them, waiting for someone to start off the evening performance. The two younger Rothwell sisters boldly volunteered to go first.
The two young ladies went to the front of the room and promptly burst out laughing as they started to enact a scene together. Even Callum could not help but be amused; mainly because they were both laughing so hard at their own antics that it was impossible to be serious.
“We give up!” Lord Grassdale protested after several minutes of hilarity. “Tell us!”
“Shall we tell him?” the older sister—Georgina—demanded.
“No!” Mr Rothwell yelled playfully, making them all laugh.
“It was, or rather, it was meant to be the word ‘generosity’,” the younger sister informed them with a shy smile.
The crowd applauded them.
Lady Millicent and a female friend went next, and their performance was quite skilful. Callum thought that he had guessed the word—entertainment—and he turned out to be right. The performance was greeted by enthusiastic applause.
“Shall we go?” Callum asked Miss Rothwell. Partly he wanted to conclude their performance because James and Philippa were staring at them again. The sooner he could get out of the drawing room and onto the balcony with Miss Rothwell, the better he would feel.
