“Two yellow tickets wins, but a blue ticket cancels a yellow,” Lady Grace said.
“You are asked a question, you see,” Lady Felicity said. “Then the group determines whether it was a fact or a fib.”
Marcus began to understand the looks of dread from Stratton and Dashlend.
“The group decides?” Stratton asked. “Do not believe a word of it, Stanford. The sisters decide and it really does not matter whether you tell a fact or a fib.”
“Stratton is on to it,” the duke said. “That’s the reason I bring the port and brandy into the drawing room—you’ll need it!”
Marcus felt as if his head was spinning. He had never encountered such a household in his life, nor had he imagined one existed.
On his other side, Lady Alice whispered, “I’m a bit scared.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing at all,” Marcus said quietly. He said it because it seemed the gentlemanly thing to reassure a lady. He was not certain he believed it though.
Was this household one to admire or to run from? He really could not decide. All he could be sure of was that it was nothing at all like the household he’d been raised in.
