Jane rushed to her friend and hooked their arms together. “I’ve piled together the best specimens for you.”
Lillian eyed the mistletoe on the table with skepticism, then the book she carried in one hand with clear longing. “Do you really mean to quiz the gentlemen?”
Jane nodded.
“What about, though? This is entirely unprecedented and not in the least romantic.”
It was not, but that was the point.
“You’ll see soon enough what topics we cover.”
Jane organized them all. The gentlemen would cut the plant into small, tangled bunches, and Lillian and Jane would tie ribbon round them and group them all together with other cheerful accoutrements.
Once everyone was settled, Jane closed her eyes to go over her mental list of questions.
“Well,” Mr. Dour’s voice said, “how shall we begin?” He did not mean with the mistletoe.
Jane opened her eyes and found Mr. Dour’s unsmiling face. “We’ll begin with you, Professor Dour. Is there anything you enjoy other than mathematics?”
His face fell, and the drooping corners of his lips told her one truth—her plan would be an utter success.
George was not sure what he’d expected the outcome of Jane’s system to be, but it was not this. He leaned over to Edmund, sitting close by in an approximation of George’s own posture, ankle crossed over a knee, hands folded over chest.
“Eddy, how long do we let this go on?”
“Into eternity, my friend. I’ve not been so amused in years.”
“But we should not be amused at your sister’s frustration.”
“You should not. You should rush in to save her,Sir George. But I’m her brother. I may be amused when I so desire.”
“But Lord Devon has joined the fray.”
“Isn’t it glorious? Who knew ‘coffee or tea?’ would prove such a volatile question.”
Lord Devon leaned toward Mr. Newburton, mistletoe scattered around his feet, knocked to the floor when he’d slapped his palms on the tabletop. “Coffee is a bold man’s drink! If you cannot stand it as you claim, you are not bold enough for a woman like Lady Jane!”
Jane flinched and covered her mouth with her hand. Did she laugh? Her eyes sparkled like she did.
Edmund whistled. “Perhaps Jane should marry Lord Devon. That was quite the defense. There’s a man ready to joust, my friend.”
George glared at the younger man currently extolling the virtues of freshly ground beans. “To defend the honor of a hot beverage. Besides, Jane does not wish to marry him. Told himno. Three times.” George looked at the clock. Two hours since they’d begun. The mistletoe had long since been abandoned. Surely, she had enough information now.
“Enough.” George stood and marched into the fray. “Jane, what is your preference? Coffee or tea?” Damn, but he wished he could cross his arms over his chest. The sling prevented his attempts to appear intimidating.
Jane dropped the hand from her mouth and tempered the laughing smile there. Shehadbeen laughing. “Both. Depending on the time of day and the season.”
Lord Devon threw his hands in the air.
Lillian cleared her throat. “Lord Devon, if you do not mind me saying…”
He swung toward her, startled, blinking. “Oh, didn’t know you were here, Miss Clarke.”
Lillian blushed and looked down. “My father always says that a bold man speaks loudest.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m not quite sure, but I thought you might… I thought you might like it.” She all but ran away from him, and he seemed to forget her just as quickly, shaking his head and retreating to the corner he’d silently occupied for most of the morning.
