Chapter Nine
P
Linus eyed that evening’s gathering, wondering which of the guests his sisters meant to foist upon him this time.
Lady Belinda had been pleasant enough, but she hadn’t so much as smiled at a single jest—of his or anyone else’s—and she’d not seemed any more interested in him than he had been in her.
The Misses Romrell were yet a mystery, his encounter with them being exceptionally brief.
None of the three was included in that evening’s festivities.
A young widow, Mrs. Blackbourne, had joined the party for the evening. Linus firmly suspected he would find himself in her company often. His sisters would see to it.
Mr. Stroud, a gentleman likely near Linus’s age, numbered amongst the new guests as well. Thus far, Stroud was innocuous, although he had taken an interest in Artemis that would bear watching.
Miss Hampton, Linus had noted straightaway, was not in the drawing room.
He felt the oddest mixture of relief and disappointment.
He wished to know her better, if for no other reason than to discover why she made him nervous.
Despite that discomfort, he enjoyed her company.
He sensed there were hidden depths in Miss Hampton that few were permitted to see, and that was endlessly intriguing.
Beyond the pull he personally felt, there remained the need to thank her properly for the service she had rendered Oliver that afternoon.
Lud, if she hadn’t found the boy before he’d reached the river, the results might have been disastrous. Linus had sworn to Adam and Persephone that he would personally teach Oliver how to swim, a skill he’d learned in the navy.
The dowager stood before the group, having already welcomed the guests to the evening’s entertainment. “Her Grace and I have decided upon a game of tableau vivant for this evening.”
A murmur of enthusiasm rolled over the gathering.
“You will be divided into two teams,” the dowager continued. “Each team will be assigned a scene to portray. His Grace and I will be acting as judges when the tableaux are staged.”
Though the dowager presented Adam’s role as a magnanimous thing, Linus suspected the assignment was actually the result of Adam flatly refusing to participate in the staged scenes.
“The team that is deemed the winner will receive a prize.”
“What is the prize?” Artemis asked, never one to worry over being demure.
“The duke will agree not to throttle you,” Harry suggested.
“Capital,” Lord Lampton declared, earning Adam’s obvious annoyance.
The dowager waited with obvious enjoyment for the amusement to die down. “The teams will be a little uneven, I am afraid. Lady Lampton is not feeling well enough this evening to join us.”
That was unfortunate. Linus suspected Lady Lampton was a calming influence on her husband, something that would have made keeping Adam’s temper in check far easier.
“Our first team will consist of Her Grace, Mr. and Mrs. Windover, Mr. Stroud, and Lord Lampton.”
Heads turned about as the team already named began searching each other out.
“Our second team will be Mr. Jonquil, Mrs. Blackbourne, Miss Lancaster, and Mr. Lancaster.”
Mr. Stroud spoke immediately. “That is not so very uneven. Only a difference of one participant. I don’t see any reason why the other team should lodge a complaint.”
No one had lodged a complaint. Indeed, Mr. Stroud had come the closest with his veiled implication that the dowager’s acknowledgment of the uneven numbers had been so unnecessary. Linus knew enough of civility to recognize the faux pax for what it was. One simply did not insult one’s hostess.
The dowager, ever gracious, ignored the criticism and moved along. “I am designating Lord Lampton and Mr. Lancaster as the heads of their respective teams and will give them their assigned scenes.”
She gave a paper to her son, then crossed to where Linus stood.
“If it will set your mind at ease,” he said, “I am fully confident we will trounce the competition despite our smaller number.”
The dowager, in a voice the tiniest bit dry, said, “Oh, but the sides are not so very uneven. Only a difference of one participant.”
An exact recounting of Mr. Stroud’s observation. The dowager had a sharp wit; there was no denying that.
“It is a shame Miss Hampton did not join us this evening.” Could the dowager tell he was fishing about for information?
“Oh heavens.” She held her hands up in a show of sudden realization.
“Of course Arabella should be here.” The sigh that followed was one of frustration.
“I often forget how likely she is to assume she is not included in an activity if I haven’t very specifically insisted otherwise.
Of all my boys, only Corbin ever needed that reminder.
It seems I am out of practice with one who is so very quiet and keeps to herself. ”
“She is perhaps a little reserved, but when we have spoken she has not struck me as shy.”
The dowager’s brows drew upward. “She spoke with you?”
He nodded. “A couple of times.”
“More than once?” That was clearly unexpected. “I have not known her to be very open, even with those she knows well. She must feel some degree of ease with you.”
How odd that she, by the dowager’s account, was apprehensive in nearly everyone’s company except his, while he was hesitant only in hers.
“I will send word to Arabella,” the dowager said.
“She will enjoy the evening’s entertainment, and we will be the better for having her here.
” She slipped a folded paper in his hand.
“Your tableau,” she explained, then made her way quickly but with a very countess-like degree of dignity to a maid sitting diligently near the door.
She was sending for Miss Hampton. The nervousness he felt was, this time, mingled with a growing hint of excitement.
“What is our assignment?” Artemis said.
He unfolded the paper. “It says, ‘Linus.’” He flipped it over, wondering if he’d missed something. Had the dowager forgotten to include the assignment in addition to the name of the team’s leader?
Artemis moved closer, pulling Mrs. Blackbourne along with her. The dark-haired beauty was deposited—there was no other word for Artemis’s almost forceful placement of her—at Linus’s side.
Both ladies eyed the paper in his hand.
“That really is all it says.” Artemis sounded rather put out.
Mrs. Blackbourne maintained her calm far better. “It is odd, I will acknowledge. We cannot truly proceed without an assignment.”
“Perhaps ‘Linus’ is our assignment,” Charlie said. “He was the subject of a myth, was he not?”
“He was, indeed,” Linus said. All the Lancaster siblings were named for figures in Greek mythology, himself included.
Mrs. Blackbourne laid her hand lightly atop his arm. It was an unexpectedly forward gesture, considering they did not know each other at all. Linus moved his arm free but did so subtly in order to not draw undue attention. He did not wish to embarrass either of them.
“At the risk of making something of a spectacle of myself,” Mrs. Blackbourne said, “I will confess I am not familiar with the details of Linus of old.”
Artemis took up the explanation before Linus had a chance.
“He was the creator of melody and rhythm, and he was murdered with his own musical instrument in an act of petty revenge. What it lacks in visibility, Linus’s myth more than makes up for with excitement.
Art. Intrigue. Even death. It is absolutely perfect for a game of tableau vivant. ”
Mrs. Blackbourne met Linus’s gaze and offered what could only be interpreted as a look of conspiratorial amusement. She, it seemed, had taken Artemis’s measure quickly. Did she also realize that Artemis was part of his sisters’ conspiracy to find him a match? If so, she did not seem to object.
“Oh, Linus.” Artemis took hold of his arm, excitement rendering her noticeably giddy. “Do let me plan our tableau. Please. I am ever so much better at these things than you are. We will be victorious for certain if I am in charge.”
Linus didn’t particularly want to undertake the arrangements. He nodded his agreement. “Although I reserve the right to put a stop to anything I feel needs stopping.”
Artemis rolled her eyes. “I am not a child anymore.”
“No, but you are still Artemis.” He dared her to contradict him.
Despite her show of displeasure, Artemis’s lips twitched. “If I promise to behave, will you allow me to plan our tableau?”
“With supervision.”
She sighed, her shoulders rising and falling. “Older brothers are such a burden.”
“Yes, they are.” Charlie couldn’t possibly have sounded more empathetic.
“Well, then,” Linus said, “let us give the planning of this endeavor to Artemis and do our utmost to trounce young Mr. Jonquil’s older brother. He is heading the other team, you will remember.”
Artemis stepped directly to where Linus stood, forcing him to move aside, which necessitated Mrs. Blackbourne’s moving as well. She did not return to her previous place but rather kept near him. The young widow certainly didn’t want for boldness.
He offered what he hoped would be interpreted as an innocuous smile and placed some distance between them.
“Linus will, of course, be assigned the role of Linus,” Artemis declared. “We will also need to fill the part of his parents and choose someone to portray Heracles.”
Miss Hampton stepped inside the drawing room.
A bubble of excitement formed in Linus’s chest. She paused at the doorway.
Her expression was not one of ease and pleasure but of uncertainty and worry.
She sought out the dowager, who smiled at her and motioned to the side of the room where Linus’s group stood.
Miss Hampton pushed out a breath, not looking the least bit eager to join in the evening’s diversion. She crossed the room toward him.
He had been the one to suggest she be included. Seeing her discomfort made him doubt the wisdom of that idea. Maybe she really was shier than he had realized.
“I see the dowager convinced you to join us,” he said.