Page 51 of A Perfect Engagement
“Maybe a statue where the mouth has been chiseled off, like those old Greek ones,” Miss Thornton ventured.
“Oh, is it one of those nude statues? Because my mother forbade me to look at those.” Miss Fenway’s eyes grew wide with distress.
Dear Lord.This scavenger hunt would be the death of him. “I believe the answer is a clock. The clock face, hands that move around but do not wave…” Daniel waited for his comment to sink in.
“Yes! That’s just right.” Mr. Hollister thumped him on the back for the fourth time that afternoon.
“Lord Weston, you are so clever.” Miss Thornton squeezed his arm again. She was standing far too close. Her eyelashes batted furiously, giving her the look of a deranged owl. What had his aunt gotten him into?
Daniel took a large step back. Then he turned to scan the library for a clock not mounted on the wall. “There,” he pointed. “Behind you, Miss Fenway. There is a small clock on the desk.”
Just as Miss Fenway picked up the clock, the doorway to the library was filled with chatter. Miles, Charlotte, Lucius, and Miss Spencer filed into the room.
“Good thinking. This is the last one.” Miles stopped short when he spotted them. He had his arms filled with objects. “Hello, how goes the hunt?”
“Good, we’ve just got one more to solve,” Daniel replied. His eyes strayed to Charlotte. She stood behind his brother, her gaze glued to the floor. Still not willing to meet his eye. He clenched his hand into a fist to resist the urge to reach out and take her hand. To resist the urge to explain everything right here in front of all these guests just so she wouldn’t believe the worst of him.
“Well, I suppose you’ve figured out the book if you are here in the library. Good luck with your last riddle.” Miles walked to the library table and took a slim green book off a stack there. He handed it to Charlotte. “We will be the first back, I’m sure of it.”
Miles always did like to win. He had made most everything into a contest growing up. Hunting, fishing, foot races, and climbing trees had all become contests of strength or skill. Even in their studies, Miles had been an overachiever. He learned four languages, got the highest marks in math and history. But Miles had never had an ear for music, and there Daniel had been able to far surpass him in skill.
Daniel grinned wide. “Thanks for the tip, brother.” He grabbed a book. “Stiff is my spine, and my body is pale, but I’m always ready to tell a tale.We hadn’t gotten to that one yet.”
He received a dark frown from Miles. Then his brother turned to his group. “Quickly, let’s figure out where we are supposed to end the game.” They huddled together in a tight circle to read the last riddle.
Daniel faced his own group. “All right, Miss Thornton read us the last riddle.”
She sent a withering glance at the other group. “Keys open my door, but mine only make a sound.”
The answer came to him like a flash, a pianoforte. He glanced up, and his gaze collided with Charlotte’s. For the first time in two days, she didn’t avert her eyes. Around them, conversation buzzed as their teammates tried to figure out the riddle. A corner of her mouth quirked up in a small smile, and she arched one eyebrow. She had figured out the clue. He nodded his head in return.
Daniel let out a long breath. Perhaps things would be all right between them after all. Misunderstandings could be cleared away easily enough. How he felt about her, perhaps not as easily, but that was his problem, not hers. He would figure something out. He gave her a wink. Then simultaneously, he and Charlotte said, “I know the answer. We must go to the drawing room.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Lord Weston isquite charming,” Miss Fenway chirped.
Her friend Miss Hathaway bobbed her head. “And just as handsome as Lord Hawksridge.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes as she took a sip from the delicate bone china teacup. Those two bird-witted fools would be surprised Weston looked like his twin brother. This afternoon’s tea with the ladies was more interminable than usual. It was Charlotte’s least favorite part of the day. Sitting around, making small talk was not her forte. This afternoon she sat trapped on the settee between the Far Too Cheerful Twits and across from Miss Thornton and her friend Miss Young.
Charlotte glanced across the room where Susanna and Ellie sat with Susanna’s mother and Lady Brooks. Olivia chatted with Mrs. Kenwoody. And Sophia Kingsley sat by herself in the corner with an open book in her lap. Charlotte enviously wondered what she was reading. Olivia caught Charlotte’s eye and sent her a sympathetic look. Charlotte subtly shrugged one shoulder.
“Lord Weston was very attentive during the scavenger hunt today. He is quite clever, which is more than I can say about my other teammates.” Miss Thornton flicked a glance at Nellie Fenway. But the poor girl was clueless to the insult.
“He is very kind. His aunt told my mother she thought we would make quite a nice pair.” Nellie sighed. “He is certainly the type of man who could keep you warm in bed on cold nights.” She and Miss Hathaway giggled like schoolgirls.
Charlotte rattled her teacup, slightly shocked that mild-mannered Miss Fenway would say such a thing. Heat suffused her cheeks as her thoughts flashed back to how warm she felt when the hard planes of his body had pressed against hers as they lay tangled in the hay. And they had been fully clothed. If she could run her hands over the bare skin of those broad shoulders and down across his chest, would he scorch her with his heat?
Her mouth suddenly dry, Charlotte took a sip of her tea before setting down her cup on the table. It was ridiculous to let her mind wander to such things. Entirely inappropriate. And he and Miss Fenway make a good match? Hardly. He would be bored within a week with the brainless girl.
Miss Thornton sniffed delicately. “Lord Weston, as the brother of a marquess, could hardly marry a chit like you, Nellie. I would make a much more sensible wife for him.”
Charlotte gasped at the unforgivably rude comment. Miss Fenway looked as though she had been struck in the face. Then her eyes dropped to her lap, and her chin trembled.
“Miss Thornton, I’m surprised to hear you express an interest in such a…what did you call him, oh yes, a rake. I wonder if you would be able to even handle a man such as that. Or is it that you have plenty of practice handling rakes?” She tilted her head and stared down Miss Thornton as she sputtered in outrage. Charlotte felt inordinately pleased with herself. For once, she had the courage to say what she wanted when the moment arose.
“You think you’re so special. I—” Miss Thornton hissed.
