Page 9 of The Earl and Miss Muffet
Anton shrugged. He was in a pensive mood.
Gunther cleared his throat. “Look, Mary and I will take another turn with Miss Muffet tomorrow. You needn’t feel so burdened by this. We know you are busy.”
“Nonsense,” Anton said, much too quickly. He wanted to spend time with Miss Muffet. That is what scared him. “It’s my duty, and I won’t shirk it. Thank you, though. I promise to let you know if it is too much.”
Terrance smiled. “And this is why you are the earl and not me. You’re a better man than Gunther and I could ever hope to be.”
“Leave me out of this,” Gunther said. “I should like to think I am as good as Anton.”
Anton chuckled, feeling a bit lighter. “We shall see after a game of charades. You know I am the reigning champion.”
The three men walked the short distance from the dining room to the drawing room and made themselves comfortable in the semicircle of seating. Anton’s place next to Miss Muffet was purely by coincidence, as it was the last open seat since his mother’s embroidery basket and sewing things took up half of a sofa. After he sat down, he realized it was too dark for his mother to sew and grew suspicious again.
Mary stood. “Let’s divide into teams. Mother, you shall have to play. Blake, mother, and I will be on a team since we are sittingon this side of the room, and the rest of you shall be on the other team. I will go first. I have thought of just the thing.”
“And likely told Mr. Gunther beforehand,” Terrance said. “I think he and I should trade places to make this fair.”
Mary huffed. “Very well. If you insist. But only because I know you desire to be on the more superb team and not because I have any intention of cheating.”
The tiniest giggle erupted from Miss Muffet. Anton turned his head to see. Not even a smile graced her lips. Surely, he had imagined it.
“This is a person.” Mary strutted across the room and pretended to fluff the front of her hair.
“Easy, it’s me,” Gunther said, before sitting up straight with a look of disgust. “Wait, are you mocking me? I thought you said you loved me.”
Elena giggled again, and this time Anton caught her small smile. He laughed too. “You aren’t on her team anymore, Gunther, remember?”
Gunther groaned.
Terrance shook his head. “Mary, you know most of the world plays this game very differently than you do. They act out every syllable in a line of phrases and create challenging riddles.”
“The old way is stuffy,” Mary argued. “Besides, I was only getting us excited about playing. It is all about acting now. Each team acts out a phrase or word. We can be as elaborate as we want with costumes and props. It’s all quite exciting.”
“Can we play a simplified version?” Anton asked. Mary’s version could extend over several nights. “How about the teams all act out together, but they do it without costumes or props.”
“You are eliminating half the excitement,” Mary whined.
“We can go first, dear,” Gunther said. “Just to show you how charming we can make this game.”
“Let’s convene to the dining room to discuss our part,” Anton suggested. He extended a hand to Miss Muffet and helped her up from her seat. Once the door was shut behind them, Anton turned to his teammates, “Any brilliant suggestions?”
Miss Muffet’s soft voice broke through the silence. “I have an easy idea since you seem intent on keeping this simple.”
Anton had not expected her to be eager to play. She clasped her hands in front of her, as if she too did not expect her ready answer. His eyes took in her dress tonight—an orangish-brown that was not the least flattering. Not that it mattered to Anton. It was nice to have an excuse to look at her while she spoke instead of stealing glances.
“Simple sounds perfect,” Gunther replied. “But we must draw it out a bit to satisfy Mary.”
“What about a bluestocking?” Miss Muffet asked. “Three syllables but the parts to the word would make it simple to act out.”
Anton nodded. “I like it. We could act out some sort of dyeing of cloth for blue.”
“Yes,” Gunther said. “You put out your arms in a circle, and Miss Muffet will make a dipping action into the vat.”
“And what will you be doing, Gunther?”
“I will be a blue cloud, dancing rain on you.”
Anton raised a brow. “Very original of you.”
