Page 2 of A Game of Hearts

“And what consequences would those be?” Emma couldn’t quite keep the edge from her voice. “The terrible fate of people enjoying themselves?”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“The consequence, Miss Everton, of young ladies developing a reputation for being... fast.”

Emma’s hand tightened on her soup spoon.

“How fortunate then, my Lord, that you were not present to witness such shocking behaviour. I fear that your sensibilities might not have survived the ordeal.”

A flash of something - surprise? annoyance? - crossed his face before his expression settled back into stern disapproval.

“I merely point out that a lady’s reputation is a delicate thing.”

“While a gentleman’s, apparently, is made of sterner stuff?” Emma arched an eyebrow. “How convenient.”

“Oh!” Lady Anne’s voice cut smoothly into the tension, “I believe that I spy the first strawberries of the season being brought in. His Grace must have had them forced in his hothouse.”

“Indeed,” the Duchess smiled. “Our gardener is quite skilled with the hothouses. Though I confess, the flavour is never quite the same as summer strawberries.”

Emma welcomed the interruption, though she noticed Lady Anne’s gaze lingering appreciatively on Lord Limnwood. Well, she was welcome to him. Clearly, the Marquess was every bit as stuffy and judgmental as rumour had painted him.

The rest of dinner passed in a blur of elaborate courses and carefully polite conversation. Emma found herself counting the minutes until she could escape, though she maintained an outward appearance of perfect composure. She was not about to give Lord Limnwood any further cause to criticise her behaviour.

To her relief, the Duke finally rose again.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, if you would proceed to the drawing room? The lottery awaits!”

*****

The drawing room of Pelham Hall buzzed with anticipation. Footmen had arranged chairs in a semicircle, with a small table at the centre holding two covered baskets. The Duke stood beside them, clearly enjoying his role as master of ceremonies.

Emma found herself seated between her friend Lady Beatrice Somers and her aunt. Lady Beatrice leaned close to whisper to her.

“I do hope that I’m paired with someone agreeable. Did you notice Lord James Fairmont at dinner? He seems quite charming.”

“Which one was he?” Emma whispered back.

“The fair-haired gentleman near the end of the table. Lord Limnwood’s younger brother, though they’re nothing alike in temperament, thank goodness.”

Emma’s interest quickened.

“Lord Limnwood’s brother? I wouldn’t have guessed - they look nothing alike.”

“Lord James takes after their mother’s family, I’m told,” Lady Beatrice explained. “Though he has all the Fairmont height. But hush - they’re starting!”

“Ladies, your names have been placed in this basket.” The Duke gestured to the left. “Gentlemen, you will each draw one slip. The lady whose name you select shall be your partner for our upcoming activities.”

Emma watched as, one by one, the gentlemen stepped forward to draw names. Her stomach tightened with nerves as each slip was drawn and read, then dropped into the other basket..

“Lord James Fairmont,” the Duke called.

The young man Emma now recognised stepped forward, his easy smile and graceful movement providing a stark contrast to his brother’s rigid bearing.

“Lady Beatrice Somers,” he read out, and bowed to Beatrice with a flourish that made her blush prettily.

More names were drawn. Emma tried not to fidget as the number of remaining gentlemen dwindled. She noticed Lady Anne leaning forward each time, clearly hoping to hear her name paired with Lord Limnwood’s.

“The Marquess of Limnwood.”