Page 29 of Lady Dramatic
Chapter Eight
Serenity was muchbuoyed by the evening so far. She and Lord Thorpe had settled the question of the weather between them. Were it only a misting, the dog walking would go forward. She’d sent up a silent prayer that nature would hold off on raining for the next days. Nature loved her rain so well, and it did such a lot of good, but if it could hold off just a little while, she would be most grateful.
She was beginning to not know what she thought of Lord Charles. He seemed somehow younger than Lord Thorpe. Of course, he was younger by a few years, but more than that. He seemed more boyish, perhaps. Really, it had been foolish to claim he had played Fact or Fib at a house party. It was the sort of thing Verity might do—claim to have knowledge she did not in fact have.
She supposed she must be lenient in forming her opinion, as certainly he’d said it to impress her and she could not condemn an effort at a compliment.
They had gone into the drawing room and arranged all the furniture in a wide circle with an ottoman in the middle. Verity and Winsome had made the separate piles of yellow and blue tickets. She was gratified to note that Lord Thorpe paid close attention to where she would sit and took the chair next to her with alacrity. Winsome was on her other side, and that left Lord Charles between Lord Dashlend and Verity.
“Well, now,” the duke said, “Gentlemen, you’ll be asked questions and my daughters will decide if it is a fact or a fib.”
“That’s the main thing,” Dashlend said. “It does not matter if you tell the truth or not—theydecide.”
“That’s why you cannot win,” the duke said. “Do not bother trying. We’ll all be drowning in blue tickets in no time at all.”
“Blue is for fibs and yellow is for facts, and a blue cancels out a yellow,” Winsome said.
“Valor has asked to go first,” the duke said. “She rightly reminded me that last season she got overtired and threw a fistful of blue tickets in Stanford’s face.”
“I do get tired,” Valor admitted. “If I gettootired, anything might happen. Now, Lord Charles, what is the first thing you noticed about our Serenity?”
Serenity looked down at her hands. It was no surprise that Lord Charles and Lord Thorpe would be interrogated ruthlessly. Though she knew it was coming, it was uncomfortable and thrilling at the same time.
“Oh, well I would say it must be her bright eyes,” Lord Charles said.
“Fibber!” Valor cried, hurling a blue ticket at him. “You noticed her hair—everybody knows it.”
“See?” the duke said laughing. “All right, who is next?”
“I am not done,” Valor said darkly.
Serenity was getting the idea that her youngest sister was fast on her way to being overtired. It was not surprising, she supposed, as her usual time for retiring had passed hours ago. Hopefully, there would not be a repeat of last season’s dramatics.
“Lord Thorpe,” Valor said, “what didyoufirst notice about our Serenity?”
“How joyous she was to be out in the snow,” Lord Thorpe said. “Not everybody can appreciate the changing moods ofnature. And then her hair was very charmingly escaping her bonnet.”
Serenity’s sisters all looked at one another in surprise. “Fact!” Valor cried, throwing him a yellow ticket.
What an answer! It was positively perfect. It was as if Lord Thorpe really understood her.
“Very good,” the duke said, laughing. “Now who will be next to interrogate our guests?
“I am not done,” Valor said, tears brimming in her eyes. “Nobody else can get married. No more weddings! Fact!” Then she took a pile of yellow tickets.
The duke motioned to Charlie, who understood it was time to retrieve Mrs. Right. “There now, my girl, you really are getting tired.”
“Yes, I know,” Valor said, sobbing into her father’s sleeve.
Rather than continue on with the game while Valor was in such distress, they waited on Mrs. Right to collect her before they proceeded.
Lord Thorpe very kindly said, “Lady Valor, I am much impressed that you have remained in the drawing room to play the game with us. It is exceedingly late for a youth of your years.”
As Valor wiped her tears with her father’s sleeve, she said, “It reallyislate and Iamjust a youth.”
Mrs. Right hurried in. “There you are, love. You’ll never guess who’s turned up—Mrs. Wendover has been returned and looks forward to a reunion.”
“Oh Nelson,” Valor said, climbing off the sofa, “you are very good to bring her home.”
