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Archie considered pressing the matter—they had spoken in London just over a fortnight ago, and Freddie had not mentioned a woman, to say nothing of marriage—but he decided against it. “I would much rather you didn’t have them moved. I will quite happily take a spare bedchamber.”

“Are there any?” Freddie asked doubtfully.

“Mother never puts any guests in the west wing on this floor.”

Freddie’s face screwed up. “I should think not. Entirely unsuitable for human accommodation, isn’t it?”

“The rooms have remained largely untouched since I was a boy. She will hate it above all things.” He grinned.

The next quarter of an hour passed without incident until the men rejoined the women in the drawing room, where Mother announced that they would be playing parlor games after tea.

Archie yawned. He might have known parlor games would feature heavily during the party. They provided an acceptable excuse for just the sort of flirtation and physical contact she would be hoping for.

She swept over to him, and for the next few minutes, Archie was treated to a catalog of the guests present—or the unmarried female ones, rather. She mentioned the men in passing, but she extolled the virtues of the women as though she was eulogizing them.

Eulogizing their celibate lives, perhaps.

“Miss Caldwell is looking very well, is she not?” Mother said, looking pointedly across the drawing room.

“Very well indeed.” Archie fiddled with the cuff of his coat.

Mother elbowed him. “Do you even know who she is?”

“No,” he admitted. But just then, his gaze landed upon a young woman who was looking at him as though waiting for him to take note of her.

She smiled, held his gaze with her pretty blue eyes, then turned away.

“I had hoped Miss Orston would be in attendance,” Mother said, “but alas, both of her parents have taken ill, depriving her of a chaperone.”

Mother had spoken of Miss Orston before. Her father was a viscount, and her parents had recently acquired an estate some twenty miles from Bellthorne. Archie had not yet had the doubtful pleasure of meeting Miss Orston—an oversight he had taken pains to bring about.

“Mm,” Archie responded absently.

The young woman Mother had identified as Miss Hollis was trying to persuade the woman Archie had met in the corridor to join Blind Man’s Bluff. She was not finding success.

Mother looked at him. “The viscount and his wife are ill, Archibald. Is that not most terribly upsetting?”

“Most upsetting,” he agreed blandly. “And who is that young woman? The one speaking with Miss Hollis.”

Mother had pointed out every single woman in the room save her. Her gaze sought the young woman, but when it found her, disappointment overtook her curiosity. “I believe her name is Miss Prescott. Shall we join the games?” She left him to join the group.

Archie’s mouth lifted curiously at one edge. It would seem Miss Prescott did not enjoy Mother’s endorsement. It made her all the more intriguing. How did she come to be here at all if Mother did not look upon her with favor?

Miss Prescott had managed to convince Miss Hollis that she would not be participating in Blind Man’s Bluff, but she was not alone as a spectator.

Mr. Fowell—the man who had elicited blushes during dinner—took the chair beside her. She smiled politely when he addressed her, then shifted almost imperceptibly away from him.

Archie took amusement in watching her respond civilly when what she clearly wanted was to watch the games afoot. Based on the way her eyes lit and she shifted to the edge of her seat as she laughed watching, to play them.

Which was why Archie found it so curious that she had refused to do just that.

Doubly intriguing, then.

Archie’s friend, Oliver Cole, wore the blindfold, and a number of guests shifted to avoid his chaotic movements. Miss Caldwell was among them, gathering up her skirts and rushing out of his reach.

And toward Archie.

“Do come play, Lord Dalmeer,” she urged, reaching for his arm.