way for the contestants to begin to know each other. The ladies shall enter one at a time, and the man who draws the short straw shall follow. The two must remain in the closet for three minutes.”
Molly could hardly believe her ears.
There was a chorus of enthusiastic responses, especially from the men. And Sir Richard, she noticed, was looking at her with peculiar intensity.
Now Molly was no longer tired—she was simply terrified.
Chapter 10
When Athena entered the closet, a sensual smile on her lips, Molly stood mute. Her heart beat so hard when the men chose their first straws, she was afraid she might die. Except for enjoying Harry’s kisses in the carriage and the few moments they’d shared as he taught her to walk the way a proper mistress should, she was having a horrible time at the house party.
How would she make it through a whole week of being a false mistress?
Harry smiled. He had drawn the shortest straw! The Romeo. Molly was tempted to be upset with him, but why? There were other ladies’ men in the world—why should she be aggravated with him? He wasn’t pretending to be decent, after all. At least he was honest about his lack of scruples.
Lord Maxwell raised a brow. “See that she’s entertained.”
Harry didn’t look at Molly even once. He merely opened the door to the closet and disappeared inside with Athena for three agonizing minutes.
No one else seemed to find those three minutes excruciating besides Molly. Indeed, there was more laughter and drinking and silly, flirtatious antics than ever, almost as if the knowledge that the two people in the closet were kissing was a potent energizer of the crowd, an aphrodisiac of sorts.
Finally, the two came out, to much hooting and laughter. Athena looked much satisfied, and her lips were redder than ever. Harry looked exactly the same, which for Molly proved all the rumors that he was a jaded bachelor.
“You don’t kiss and tell, do you?” Lord Maxwell asked Harry.
“Never,” Harry said, playing the gallant. He leaned over Athena’s hand and pressed it to his lips.
The good-natured bantering continued through Hildur’s turn. Lord Maxwell drew the short straw for her. Everyone laughed when Hildur came out and said, “Do not throw
Bunny was next. Captain Arrow was her partner. When she came out, she looked as beautiful as ever, but she said nothing. She simply smiled prettily. Sir Richard gave Captain Arrow the cold shoulder and pulled Bunny to him with a proprietary air.
Which left but Sir Richard and Viscount Lumley to draw straws. Molly and Joan still had to take their turns.
“Into the closet, Delilah,” said Harry.
No one moved.
Harry nudged Molly in the back.
Oh, yes!
She entered the closet, which to her dismay she found completely empty. She was hoping to hide behind a pelisse or a man’s overcoat.
Harry shut the door in her face, but before he did, she gave him a mute look of appeal. He, in turn, signaled to her with his gaze that she must endure.
Now she was alone. In the dark. Her knees began to tremble. She heard the wild laughter outside the closet, and then the “Oho!” which meant that some man had drawn a straw for her.
A moment later, the door opened and shut quickly. All she could see was the outline of a man’s head. She couldn’t tell if it was Viscount Lumley or the despicable Sir Richard.
She gulped, put her hands out in the dark, palms up, instinctively wanting to protect herself, especially if it were Sir Richard.
But her hands pressed against a very trim waist. It was Viscount Lumley. Thank God! Although she did
“Wait!” she whispered.
“Why?” He grabbed her hands and squeezed them in a friendly way.
“I—I—” Her mind scrambled. What could she say that would make him delay the inevitable? “I wanted to ask after…your mother first.”
“My
“Yes, how is she?” Molly hoped his mother was still alive. No man could turn down answering a question about his own mother’s health!
“Actually, she’s quite well, thank you. Except for her gout. She and Father both get that on occasion.”
“Really?”
“Yes, they do. It’s a shame what old people go through, isn’t it?”
“Indeed.”
Their hands were still clasped.
“Do you have any brothers and sisters?” she asked him.
He had five, he said, and at her insistence, he told her the names and ages of each one, and whether or not they were married.
“Lovely,” she replied.
There was another pause.
“Are you ready?” he asked at the same time that she said, “Do you like a good cherry tart?”
“Hmmm, I suppose I do,” he said slowly. “Although I think I prefer apple. Why?”
She squeezed his hands back. “If Cook will let me in the kitchen, I’ll make you one.”
“I’ll look forward to that,” he said, utterly polite.
There was another pause. She felt sweat trickle down her back. The closet was quite stuffy. “It’s rather hot in here,” she said.
“Indeed,” he answered.
“They’re awfully loud out there, aren’t they?” A rhetorical question, really, but perhaps he would respond.
“They are,” he said.
And then someone opened the door. Their three minutes were up. Viscount Lumley dropped Molly’s hands, and they walked single file out of the closet, he first.
“Well?” asked Sir Richard.
The nosy-body.
Molly’s chest tightened. She didn’t like that Sir Richard seemed particularly interested in her, although perhaps she was imagining that.
“We talked,” Lumley said in a disbelieving voice.
“You talked?” Joan asked Molly.
Molly smiled. “Yes. He has a wonderful family.” She turned to the viscount. “Thank you, Viscount Lumley, for the scintillating conversation.”
There was a chorus of boos.
Viscount Lumley looked only a bit dejected.
Molly whispered in his ear, “Remember, the
“Oh, yes!” he said, and grinned.
Harry looked at Molly with a bemused expression.
And then it was Joan and Sir Richard’s turn. Of course, Molly doubted Joan would ever be afraid of anyone, but couldn’t she sense the malevolence rolling off Sir Richard in waves? No one else seemed to, either, except Harry, who spoke to him as little as possible.
