Page 46 of Lady Graceless
What was she doing there?
*
LADYFELICITY HADled the ladies from the dining room. Now Miles, Stratton, and the duke were left to their port.
“We will not stay long, gentlemen,” the duke said. “Eh, Stratton? He knows how we do it—a half glass here and then I’ll bring the bottle into the drawing room.”
Miles attempted to cover his surprise at the idea, though he’d seen the same done at the inn. He supposed Lady Margaret would not mind it; she’d probably help herself.
Stratton only nodded. “You’ll be grateful for a drink, Dashlend. I heard mention of Fact or Fib.”
“Yes, what is that game, exactly?” Miles asked. “I do not believe I am familiar with it.”
The duke laughed surprisingly heartily at that inquiry. “It is a chance for my daughters to quiz you mercilessly, denounce you as a fibber if you do not answer the way they wish you to, and trounce you at it. You cannot win, therefore it’s best to just pour a deep glass and let them have their way.”
Miles looked to Stratton, who nodded sadly. “They’ll ask you questions, then they decide if it is a fact or a fib. Doesn’t really matter if they’re right—they decide. Then they’ll give you a ticket—blue for fib and yellow for fact. Two yellow tickets wins the game, but a blue ticket cancels a yellow ticket.”
“Don’t even bother attempting to keep track of it, you’ll be drowning in blue tickets no matter what you do,” the duke said.
“They can ask anything at all?” Miles asked. It sounded as if it could get very personal.
Stratton nodded. “I am fully prepared to be asked if I stare at my wife while she’s sleeping. I do not, by the by. Not often, anyway.”
The duke chuckled. “We put old Stratton through the mangle last year. I thought he might jump out the nearest window.”
“I might have, had one been open.”
“Well,” the duke said in a genial tone, “if a gentleman has not got enough stalwartness in him, he’s got no business in this house.”
Miles did not comment, but he thought that must be true. It was only a dinner, and yet he’d seen a matron barge in and name the host “an uncouth excuse for a duke,” a letter written by the butler was read at the table, accusing the housekeeper of delusions in matters of the heart, the butler had dramatically exited from the house while shaking off a three-legged dog, and now he had Fact or Fib hanging over his head.
Being lost at sea was not as harrowing.
“What’s it to be, Dashlend?” the duke asked. “Are you to make a run at my Grace?”
Miles was momentarily stunned. Make a run? Did he inquire into Miles’ intentions? He had not set any intentions yet. Not firmly. Or maybe a little firmly but not written in stone. Not yet.
“Do not answer him, Dashlend,” Stratton counseled.
“Hah!” the duke cried. “Stratton begins to know me too well! No matter, we ought to rejoin the ladies. I’ll bring the bottle, you two bring your glasses.” The duke paused. “Ought I to bring in a glass for Lady Margaret? My instincts tell me she would not be opposed.”
“That is very astute, Your Grace. Though, I believe the lady prefers brandy.”
“Charlie?” the duke said. “See to it. You’ll need to be on your toes now that we’ve sent Mr. Button packing.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Charlie said, seeming delighted.
Miles took a deep breath. He was to go in and face Fact or Fib. Afterward, he was to lead a tipsy elderly lady to his carriage, get her in there, and then make certain she reached her bedchamber without breaking her neck on the stairs on account of wine and brandy. He must bring all his stalwartness to bear.
Chapter Twelve
GRACE HAD BEENpleased that Lady Margaret had made it a point of taking her aside in the drawing room and making various sorts of comments and asking questions, all of them round the subject of Lord Dashlend.
Her sisters were all in a corner, conspiring together on what sorts of questions they would pepper Lord Dashlend and Mr. Stratton with. Even Felicity was in on it.
Lady Margaret said, “I always wonder, when two people have met under extraordinary circumstances, if fate did not have a hand in it.”
Grace had wondered just the same, though the vicar had often railed against praying for things like love and luck—he said God had more pressing matters to attend to.
