‘I can’t do that.’ Channing sighed and pushed a hand through his hair, some of the anger leaching out of the encounter. ‘What are your intentions towards her?’
Finn shook his head. ‘And I can’t tell you that.’ He hardly knew himself. It had only been a handful of hours since the kiss, only a day since her return to their lives. His actions at the lake had surprised him. He’d not planned to kiss her, just as he’d not planned to nearly kiss her in the stables. Today, he had not let the opportunity go. He only knew that he was drawn to her. She was beautiful and she looked at him like he mattered in the way a man should and not as a future earl. She listened to him. Those traits alone were worthy of his consideration or maybe they were merely signs of his desperation. He would not know unless he pursued this avenue. A good scientist tested his variables.
‘Then we’re at an impasse,’ Channing said wearily. He looked as if he wanted to say something else. His mouth worked, but no words came. He simply left the room.
Finn swirled his brandy in its snifter, idly watching the firelight play across the amber surface. When he’d thought of the impending festivities, this scenario had never crossed his mind: he and his brother quarrelling over a woman and that the woman would be little Catherine Emerson, their childhood friend. Finn tipped his glass sideways to catch the facets of light. Yet, as distasteful as the situation was, he was not willing to cede the field to Channing. Who would have thought it would come to this?
* * *
‘The king has come!’ Catherine yelled in good fun and everyone sitting in the circle of chairs scrambled to exchange seats. Catherine scrambled with them, shrieking and jostling to edge Meredith out of the last chair.
Tonight, Channing was the game master and the young people had the drawing room to themselves for parlour games while the older guests had adjourned to the music room for quieter activities. The room was alive with energy and the games were starting to take the edge off the day’s events, or rather the event.
What did that kiss mean? Mistake or not, something had prompted it and the almost-kiss in the stables. These two thoughts had tumbled around in her head all afternoon and she was no nearer an answer. Perhaps Finn and she should talk, but Finn had made himself scarce, retiring with the older guests after dinner. He wasn’t too old for the games. Marcus and Ellis had joined them, after all. But instinctively, she knew why Finn hadn’t come. The kiss had messed everything up. And yet it was beyond her how something so wondrous, so glorious, could be so off-setting.
There was one last round of change seats and Channing called out a new game. ‘It’s time for our finale, Throwing the Smile.’ Channing paused with a grin, waiting for everyone’s attention. ‘Only this time, we’ll mix in a game of forfeits.’ There were oohs and nervous giggles as Channing explained the game. ‘Marcus will start. He will stand in the centre of the circle and try to make someone laugh. Then he’ll wipe his smile off his face and give a “straight look” to someone in the circle. If they smile, they have to pay a forfeit, instead of sitting out.’ There was an excited outburst of talk at the announcement. Channing raised his hand for silence. ‘As game master, I’ve decided what the forfeit will be. Do you all see the mistletoe ball hanging in the doorway? A Christmas kiss will be the forfeit. Are we ready?’
The game was under way amidst laughter and much commotion debating who had or hadn’t smiled. Marcus struggled, needing three rounds in the centre before Meredith took pity on him when he threw her a stare and she smiled back. ‘I can’t have anyone else kissing him, can I?’ she’d joked, dragging Marcus to the mistletoe ball, but it was Marcus who swept her into his arms with a dramatic kiss worthy of Drury Lane. Then Ellis kissed Alyson and the point of Channing’s game became obvious not long after. The forfeit rule was designed to let suitors claim a kiss or perhaps more covertly for would-be suitors to announce their intentions in a fun, entertaining venue.
The circle began to shrink as people sat down with the ones they’d caught throwing a smile, even though the rules hadn’t required it. There were few people left. Catherine wondered who she’d have to kiss—maybe nice Lord Richard, who had so far resisted the stare, although several of the girls had tried, no one trying harder than Jenny Brightly. Or maybe Channing. Lady Alina had pleaded a headache after dinner and gone to her room. Catherine’s pulse began to race. Channing had made it a point to spend time with her today after she’d returned from the river with Finn. But it had felt different, awkward almost.