Page 21 of The Best of Friends
“At the rate we are proceeding, we will end the Season with precisely the same number of points, and no one will be the winner.”
“Oh, but I have one more than you do.” She took hold of his arm, squeezing it in her excitement. “I will earn a point for a purple dress. My parents prefer my dresses to be blue, but the one I ordered from Miss Martinette’s is going to be purple.”
“I should choose a book on music composition from the lending library. My brother would certainly never choose that for me.”
She still had hold of his arm, enjoying his easy enthusiasm and lack of disapproval. Her parents never had appreciated her inability to hide her eagerness. “You would enjoy the book, which makes the point all the more meaningful.”
“Does that mean you would give me an additional point?”
She laughed, not overly worrying that she would be condemned for it. “No additional points. I mean to be an ogre about this.”
“Shall we begin?” Lord Aldric asked the room, claiming all their attention.
Everyone was quickly situated.
Mr. Fortier led the discussion after that, his French accent more subtle than his wife’s. “As we have new participants joining us, I will quickly review the evening’s challenge. We will, this evening, work as teams to extemporize short poetry and do so based on prompts drawn from hats. At the end of the evening, we will recognize those who composed the best, most unique, most entertaining, and most ridiculous poem.”
Oh dear. Daria was not particularly adept at games that required intellect and cleverness.
“You don’t seem overly enthusiastic,” Toss whispered, having taken the seat beside her.
“You witnessed my struggle with the games at the house party. I haven’t the quick-wittedness that pastimes such as this require.”
“I thought you did marvelously well at all the games,” he said. “I have no recollection of your being utter rubbish.”
“Your memory is being kind to me.”
“Or perhaps your anxious thoughts are beingunkind to you.”
“We will create three teams,” Mr. Fortier continued. “One will have only four members compared to the others’ five.”
“You’d best make thatyourteam,” Mr. Greenberry said.
In explanation, Mater leaned closer to Toss and Daria. “Mr. Fortier is quite adept at crafting poetry.”
Then Daria would look even more foolish.
Something in her thoughts must have shown in her expression. Toss took hold of her hand. “I have learned of this group of ladies and gentlemen, both from Charlie and from Mater, and I do not think you need to worry that any of them will be unkind.”
“I’m certain they won’t say anything, but... they’llknow.”
“Know what?” he asked quietly.
“I’ve always been a bit stupid. It is such a miserable thing watching people realize that about me.”
“I spent a fortnight in your company at the house party,” Toss said, “and a few evenings thus far this Season, and I have not yet ‘realized’ that about you. You should know that I am well able to judge such things, as I attended Cambridge with some shockingly thickheaded people.”
She smiled a bit at that, grateful for his kindness. Grateful forhim.“Do you have a knack for poetry?”
“Not at all. But I have my suspicions thatgoodpoetry is not the aim of this evening.” He leaned forward enough to talk past her and address Mater. “Are we meant to createimpressivepoetry?”
Amusement dancing in her face, Mater said, “Absolutely not.”
Toss turned to Daria once more and laughed. The sound wrapped itself like a wonderfully warm blanket around her heart.
Chapter Nine
Lord and Lady Aldric bothheld hats out to Mr. Fortier, who drew a slip of parchment from each. “A meal,” he read from the first slip. The second read, “Harrowing.” He folded the papers together and slipped them into the watch pocket of his waistcoat. “Best of luck.”
