Page 29 of A Game of Hearts

“Your play, Miss Everton,” Lady Beatrice prompted gently.

The spell broke. Lord Limnwood stepped back, returning to his seat with perfect composure. But Emma saw his hands clench briefly as he sat, suggesting that his control wasn’t quite as complete as he wished it to appear.

“Really,” Lady Anne’s voice carried clearly, “one must wonder about the wisdom of such forfeits. Particularly when some participants seem to find proper behaviour so... challenging.”

“I believe,” the Duke’s voice cut through the tension, “that all forfeits are being performed with perfect propriety. Though perhaps, Lady Anne, if you find them disturbing, you might wish to retire?”

Emma didn’t dare look up, but she could feel Lady Anne’s fury radiating from the next table. The woman’s voice, when she spoke, was tight with suppressed rage.

“Not at all, Your Grace. Though I do feel that someone should speak up when standards of behaviour are at risk of being compromised.”

“And who better to do so than one so... experienced in observing others’ behaviour?” Lord Limnwood’s voice was arctic. “Though perhaps some might find such close observation rather disturbing in itself.”

The silence that followed his words was profound. Emma looked up to find his eyes blazing with barely controlled anger. Lady Anne had gone pale.

“I’m sure that I don’t know what you mean, my Lord.”

“Don’t you?” His smile held no warmth. “How fascinating, given your detailed knowledge of events you could only have witnessed through very... dedicated... observation.”

Emma’s breath caught as she realised what he was doing - reminding Lady Anne of his morning threat without explicitly revealing anything.

“I believe it’s your play, brother,” Lord James intervened smoothly. “Though perhaps we might take a brief pause for refreshment? The evening grows warm.”

Indeed, the tension in the room had raised the temperature considerably. Emma welcomed the chance to step away as footmen appeared with glasses of lemonade and small cakes.

“Walk with me?” Lady Beatrice touched her arm. “I fear that I need a moment of air.”

They moved to stand near the windows, which had been opened slightly to admit the chill evening breeze. From this position, Emma could see Lord Limnwood’s reflection in the glass, still seated at their table, his expression was thunderous as Lady Anne approached him.

“I don’t know what game you think you’re playing,” Lady Anne’s voice carried just far enough for Emma to hear, “but surely you cannot mean to actually... that is, someone of your position...”

“My position?” His voice was deadly quiet. “And what position would that be, Lady Anne? That of a man who values truth over malicious gossip? Or perhaps that of one who recognises the difference between genuine concern for propriety and mere spite?”

Emma’s hands trembled slightly as she lifted her glass of lemonade. After his denial that morning, she hadn’t expected him to defend her so fiercely. Yet there he sat, facing down Lady Anne’s spite with cold precision, while still maintaining perfect propriety himself.

“He’s rather magnificent when roused, isn’t he?” Lady Beatrice whispered. “Though I confess, I’ve never seen him quite so angry.”

“I don’t understand,” Emma whispered back. “This morning he...”

“This morning he acted from instinct - the instinct to protect you that’s been drilled into him since childhood. But now?” Lady Beatrice smiled slightly. “Now he’s had time to think about what truly threatens you. And it isn’t gossip about a kiss.”

Emma’s heart gave a treacherous leap of hope.

“You think so?”

“I think,” Lady Beatrice said carefully, “that a man doesn’t defend a lady so fiercely unless his feelings run very deep indeed. Though he might not yet be ready to admit it.”

Before Emma could respond, the Duke called for the games to resume. As she returned to her seat, she found Lord Limnwood watching her with an intensity that made her breath catch. For the first time since that morning, she wondered if perhaps all was not lost after all. The remainder of the evening passed in a blur of cards and forfeits, though none quite so challenging as those earlier ones. Emma found herself hyperaware of Lord Limnwood’s every movement, every careful word. He played his cards with perfect attention, yet she noticed his eyes straying to her whenever he thought she wouldn’t notice.

As the clock struck ten, the Duke rose to signal the evening’s end.

“A most entertaining series of games!” He beamed at the assembled company. “Though perhaps tomorrow’s activities might prove less... provocative.”

Emma couldn’t quite suppress a shiver as she remembered that tomorrow’s entertainment would involve flower arranging - which meant working closely with Lord Limnwood again. As if reading her thoughts, he looked up, their eyes meeting across the table.

“Miss Everton.” He rose, bowing perfectly. “Might I escort you to your aunt?”

Her heart leapt at this unexpected courtesy.