Page 89 of How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days

‘How fatiguing,’ Lady Hesse said.

An impasse.

‘Perhaps I might read to you?’ Prett said. ‘I have just finished my newest piece for La Belle Assemblée.’

‘Charades it is,’ Mr Brandon said promptly. ‘Shall we do teams?’

Out of the corner of her eye, Lydia spotted Reeves making quietly for the door.

‘Perhaps Reeves should act as master of ceremonies,’ she suggested hastily, ‘so that we might all play?’

‘Wonderful,’ Lady Phoebe said, her usual briskness returning as she sprang into organizational action. Within two minutes, she had split the party into two and bade Reeves write out some simple words and concepts on folded pieces of parchment. Lydia’s group, headed by Sir Waldo, and rounded out with Prett, Miss Hesse and Mr Brandon, were to go first, and they huddled outside the drawing room and watched as Sir Waldo unfolded the parchment.

‘Misfortune,’ Sir Waldo said. ‘Hmm … How would one act that out?’

‘I would suggest a tale from mine own life,’ Prett said, ‘but I do not think I could perform without weeping.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t,’ Mr Brandon muttered.

‘You may cry if you wish,’ Miss Hesse said, laying a gentle hand upon his arm.

‘Perhaps something simpler?’ Lydia interceded.

‘What about the Battle of Seedaseer?’ Sir Waldo suggested. ‘That would have been misfortunate, had I not been there to save the day – though I was almost a boy at the time, you know.’

‘Perhaps a little ambitious?’ Lydia wondered.

‘We would need a full theatrical cast,’ Mr Brandon agreed incredulously. ‘Let us keep the matter simple: the first syllable is “mis”.’

‘We are misses,’ Miss Hesse said to Lydia. ‘Perhaps we might … promenade or some such, in a missish manner?’

‘Perhaps,’ Lydia said dubiously, ‘though the spelling …’

‘Your time is up,’ Reeves bade them from the other side of the door.

‘It shall have to suit,’ Mr Brandon said hurriedly. ‘We shall have to improvise “fortune”.’

They re-entered the room. The others had gathered together around the fire and watched as Lydia and Miss Hesse linked arms and began walking towards them. Lydia flushed to have so many eyes upon her – she could only hope that Pip and Jane were getting on well upstairs, to justify such humiliation.

‘Have we any clues, Reeves?’ Dacre asked.

‘My lips are sealed,’ Reeves told him.

‘Noun? Adjective? Adverb?’ Dacre persisted.

Reeves merely smiled.

Lydia held up a single digit.

‘First syllable!’ Hesse said at once, leaning on the edge of his seat, world-weariness vanished in favour of boyish enthusiasm.

‘Walking.’

‘Promenading.’

‘A stroll!’

Lydia gestured to herself, pointedly.