Page 42 of War of the Wedding Wagers
He nodded. “It would reveal their true natures in a social setting.” Thornton gave a small chuckle. “Think about it. SirFrederick, with his natural charm and ease in society, will likely excel. Miss Fairchild, on the other hand, with her more serious disposition, might struggle with such frivolity. It will highlight their differences perfectly.”
“Or it could show how they complement each other. Amelia’s quick wit might surprise you, and Sir Frederick might appreciate her intelligence.”
“Really,” grumbled Lady Pendleton, who never liked being relegated to the background in any conversation, “I don’t know why it’s of any interest whether Miss Fairchild and Sir Frederick do or don’t make a match. At nearly five-and-twenty, she’s virtually a spinster. No gentleman has found her sufficiently lively or attractive to even make her an offer. And that’s hardly a surprise, for she gives no one any encouragement. It’s well known that she’s like her plain and dull parent and wants nothing more than to rusticate in the country which is what I hear she plans on doing upon her next birthday when she’ll come into her inheritance, small though that is.”
“And she certainly won’t impress or entrance Sir Frederick who likes his women lively and quick-witted and, it would appear, small and golden-haired if his past predilection is anything to go by,” said Thornton. “But, by all means, there’s little else to do when we’re in a house filled with preening young bloods, and pretty little show-offs. Sir Frederick is far more likely to spring a surprise upon us all by announcing his betrothal to Miss Playford, if you ask me. He’s a dark horse, that one. But, let’s put it to the test. Let me suggest a game of charades to our esteemed host, Lady Pendleton,” he said, leaning towards her with a smile. “I’d love to be proved right about our mismatched couple. Lady Pendleton certainly knows how to up the stakes of a game, just as she did when she wove such a wonderful fabrication about her ancestor, Miss Pernilla.”
“But there was truth in that story,” Lady Pendleton pointed out. “Those are the best lies; the ones that begin in truth.”
Eugenia did not like the way her little prune-shaped mouth turned up, as if it were a virtue to tell a good lie.
“Do you not feel a degree of pity for poor Lady Pernilla who died of a broken heart?” she asked.
“Oh, she didn’t die of a broken heart!” snapped Lady Pendleton. “No one dies of a broken heart.”
“But she did die young,” said Eugenia. “And she did fall in love with a most unsuitable and hopeless match, you said.”
“Yes, a stable boy, of all things! That was the letter I found, and around which I based everything else.” Lady Pendleton sighed. “No, of course she couldn’t marry him but yes, it is always sad when someone dies before they can enjoy the comforts of marriage and know that the children they have brought into the world will be their legacy.”
Eugenia frowned. Was this a veiled reference to Eugenia’s inadequacy? Of course it was.
“But yes, charades this evening would be delightful!” Lady Pendleton said, clapping her hands.
And Eugenia bowed her head before looking at Thornton and saying, “Very well. But don’t be too disappointed when you lose our wager, my dear Thornton. You might find you have underestimated me.”
*
Sir Frederick wasabout to round the corridor corner when, glancing behind him, he saw that Miss Fairchild, like him, was on her way to the drawing room. As she was alone, he stopped and waited.
“Caroline evinced complete astonishment at my suggestion that I had discovered her elopement plans,” he said. “She denies everything. In fact, she was so angry, she demanded I examine the state of her packing so that I could be disabused of the idea that she had any intention of eloping with Mr. Greene—or anyone—tonight, or any other night.” He looked closely at Miss Fairchild for signs of embarrassment. Could she have made the story up as an excuse to speak to him alone?
Strangely, the thought made him smile as he waited for her answer.
Miss Fairchild blushed hotly. “But the note—”
He shrugged as he offered her his arm to lead her into the drawing room where he’d heard the company would assemble for a game of charades. He was not particularly fond of the game, but if Miss Fairchild made her appearance—and his hope had proved correct—he was sure he’d perform tolerably if required.
“No matter,” he reassured her, for she looked quite dumbfounded. “A confusion, that’s all. Perhaps misinterpreted or meant for someone else. Let us speak of it no more.”
“But you’re not afraid of Mr. Greene and your sister—?”
“I shall keep a close eye on the fellow. In a few days’ time we’ll be home and his roguish smile will no longer be a temptation to poor, impressionable Caroline.”
He only realized Miss Fairchild was still dwelling on his words when he glanced down to see her frowning before she said, “Do you think his roguish smile is really the danger? Could it not be that she is starved for anything diverting to do other than respond to his compliments? Your sister is lively, but she’s intelligent. I think she longs for something worthy to occupy her talents and that clever mind of hers. Mr. Greene’s roguish smile would not be such a diversion if she only had something meaningful to occupy her.”
“My sister is hardly a bluestocking,” Sir Frederick responded with a laugh, but Miss Fairchild regarded him severely.
“You use the term slightingly, Sir Frederick. I am considered a bluestocking, did you know?”
“Yes, yes, but you and my sister are worlds apart. Caroline is a delightful scatterbrain while you are a delightful enigma.” He only realized he was licking his lips when he registered her look of outrage.
“Sir Frederick, you agreed never to refer to… what happened earlier today.”
“What happened earlier today?” he asked, wickedly. “Pray, refresh my memory, Miss Fairchild, for I regret I have completely forgotten but wish to be reminded, so I am in no danger of referring to whatever it is that should not be referred to, again.”
“There are people coming,” Miss Fairchild hissed, raising her head proudly and looking straight ahead.
Sir Frederick registered her alarm with amusement as he realized that he was the cause of Miss Fairchild’s discomposure.
