“She doesn’t have dark hair, which eliminates half of the women. I can’t imagine Artemis being unable to answer a question without giggling; she’s too adept at acting. And Miss Phelps does not seem likely to giggle.”
It was very astute. And, thankfully, not insulting to any of them. Artemis would have brushed it off if it were. But Gillian knew herself unequal to enduring ridicule when in company. There were few experiences more shattering for her than being laughed at.
Daria took her time guessing during her turn with the scarf and feather. She thought Charlie was Toss and Artemis was Nia. Her time as guesser was proving a bit of a struggle. Daria often said things or asked questions that made less generous people assume she wasn’t overly bright. Gillian had come to know Daria well enough to realize that, while she was not bookish and fumbled a bit with social interactions, she was far from stupid. Daria, however, didn’t always believe that about herself.
On her third attempt, she correctly identified Lisette.
When all the players had switched seats, Daria was beside Gillian. In a whisper, Daria said, “I’m so terribly bad at games. Everyone must think I am absolutely pathetic.”
“Of course we don’t.” Gillian took her hand and squeezed it. “And I haven’t the least doubt the gentlemen don’t think that either.”
Daria looked relieved.
“Should any of them cause you the least grief, you need only tell me. I am remarkably good at returning fire.”
That made Daria smile, which did Gillian’s heart good. Daria was one of the dearest people in the world to her. “Returning fire is not at all your strong area, Gillian Phelps, and you know it.”
“Then what is?”
“Retreat.”
Anyone unfamiliar with the Huntresses’ approach to navigating Society might think Daria, Gillian’s dearest friend, had just called her cowardly. That was not at all the case.
“Retreat is as legitimate and brave a response as the others,” Artemis had assured Gillian during that first Season they’d been friends. “Not responding to a taunt, walking away from an attack—that requires a degree of self-possession not everyone can claim.”
Itwasthe tactic Gillian was best suited to. Unfortunately, not every situation was best approached that way.
Daria turned to Mr. Sarvol, seated on her other side, and whispered, “I am sorry I am not very good at this game. You were so kind to convince Mme Dupuis to allow us to undertake it.”
Mr. Sarvol whispered back, “Charlie and Artemis disguised their voices shockingly well. I doubtanyof us could have correctly identified them. You sorted out that Lisette was your third opponent, and she disguised her voice also. I think you played the game quite well.”
Daria sighed, the sound one of tension finally being released. She felt better, it seemed.
To Mr. Sarvol, Gillian mouthed, “Thank you.”
He gave a single, subtle nod.
Lisette used the feather to poke about until she stopped in front of Charlie’s chair. Lisette had given herself a challenge.
“Are you English?” she asked.
It was a very astute question to ask. The O’Doyle sisters, Mr. Sarvol, and Duke would answer no to that question, though Duke only held the smallest hint of Ireland, his home country, in his voice.
Sounding shockingly like Fennel, Charlie said, “Yes.”
The tiniest shake of her head. “You are not, then, Mr. Kendrick, as you are meant to bedisguisingyour voice.”
How Gillian loved seeing the gentlemen look impressed. They were not well acquainted with Lisette and did not realize that for all her quietness and her uncertainty around others, she was incredibly intelligent.
“I do, however, believe youarea gentleman,” Lisette said.
Artemis beamed like a proud mother.
“You are English; therefore, Mr. Seymour and Mr. Sarvol are eliminated. That leaves Mr. Comstock and Mr. Jonquil, and we have seen ample evidence that one of those two is quite adept atmimicry.” She tapped her chin with the feather. “Therefore, you are Mr. Jonquil.”
The room erupted in applause. With Charlie having offered but a single word, uttered in perfect imitation of another member of their group, Lisette had correctly identified him.
Charlie’s turn went quickly; he identified Mr. Sarvol after only two questions. They undertook a quick changing of seats, and with his feather, Mr. Sarvol found Gillian.