The Lady Most Willing . . . by and Connie Brockway Eloisa James Julia Quinn

table.
    “Blindman!”
    “Buff,” he mouthed, but Marilla continued marching toward him with unerring precision.
     There was no way Marilla couldn’t see from underneath her blindfold.
    “Oh, I do love a meaningful game,” she trilled.
    Meaningful? Good God.
    He caught Catriona’s eyes. She had hopped up onto the table behind Lady Cecily. Save me , he implored. Surely she would take pity.
    But no, she had her hand over her mouth and was giggling away, the traitor.
    “Blindman!” Marilla called out.
    Bret didn’t even bother mouthing the word this time.
    “Oh, I hear someone,” Marilla cooed, still walking toward him. She held her hands
     in front of her, moving them this way and that. “You must warn me if I crash into
     something,” she called out. “But of course not some one .”
    Bret inched to the left. If he timed it just right, he might be able to squeeze behind
     the grandfather clock. He also might knock over the grandfather clock, but he wasn’t
     so concerned about that at that moment.
    Just a little more . . . a little more . . .
    Marilla turned, following him like a beacon.
    “She’s good at this game!” Taran hollered.
    “I’m good at many games,” Marilla murmured.
    That was when her hands found his chest.
    It was all very amusing.
    Until it wasn’t.
    Catriona had been standing on the table, clutching on to Lady Cecily’s shoulder for
     balance as she watched Marilla stalk the duke. They’d all been laughing, because it
     was funny , it truly was. Even Lord Oakley had started to chuckle, and he never laughed about
     anything.
    But then Marilla attacked.
    “Who could this be?” she asked, placing her hands on Bretton’s chest. “Remember, you
     have to hold still while I guess your identity.”
    Catriona frowned as she watched Marilla move her hands to Bret’s shoulders.
    “Someone very athletic,” Marilla purred.
    Catriona’s arms began to tingle. And not in a good way.
    “Let me see,” Marilla continued. She trailed her fingers up to Bret’s face, lightly
     touching his lips. “It’s definitely a man,” she said, as if that hadn’t already been
     obvious, “but—”
    “Enough!” Catriona roared.
    “Miss Burns?” Lady Cecily said.
    But Catriona had already vaulted off the table and was halfway across the room. “Unhand
     him!” she yelled, and before Marilla could make a response, Catriona had grabbed her
     by the shoulders and wrenched her away.
    Marilla let out a shriek of surprise and would have crashed into a table had not Taran
     leaped forward to save her.
    “Here now,” Taran said accusingly. “That’s not very sporting of you.”
    “She was mauling him,” Catriona growled.
    “It was just a game,” Marilla sniffed.
    “It was—” But then Catriona stopped. Because Marilla hadn’t been doing anything wrong. She’d been playing the game precisely as it had been meant
     to be played.
    Catriona’s stomach clenched, and all of a sudden she realized that everyone was looking
     at her. With pity. With shock. With—
    She looked at Bret’s face, terrified at what she might find there.
    She looked at Bret’s face, and she saw . . .
    John .
    John Shevington, the man with whom she’d fallen crazily, spectacularly, and apparently
     quite publicly in love.
    He would never be the Duke of Bretton to her again. He would never even be Bret. He
     would always be John. Her John. Even if they never saw each other again, if he left Finovair and refused to
     ever take another step in Scotland, he would be her John. She would never be able
     to think of him as anything else.
    “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Because she’d made such a scene. Because now everyone
     was looking at him, and he was going to be forced to save the situation, to find a
     way to laugh it all off.
    Because she couldn’t. It was taking her every ounce of strength not to burst into
     tears then and there.
    “No,” he whispered. “Don’t be sorry.”
    She swallowed, then looked