They stealthily crept toward their wayward guests, who were wholly absorbed and as tense as runners at a starting line, excitedly poised over a makeshift roulette wheel.
Angelique, Delilah, and Captain Hardy watched them, unnoticed, for a few seconds.
And then: “Whose idea was this?” Captain Hardy said conversationally.
Years later they would still talk about how all five men shot straight up in the air simultaneously, their eyes as white as cue balls, as it was one of the funniest things they’d ever seen.
They were still furious about it, of course.
And no one was surprised when four frantic arms thrust out and aimed accusatory fingers at Lord Vaughn.
“I see. And who’s been winning most often?”
Four arms pointed at St. John again. In front of whom a few pence were piled.
Captain Hardy reached down, got St. John by the earlobe, and pulled.
Needless to say, St. John was outraged. “Ow ow ow let go ow I’m standing! I’m standing!”
“You turned our ballroom into agaminghell?”
Delilah said this. She and Angelique were equal parts incensed and wounded, which was a devastating combination for all of the men present.
It appeared to have rendered them speechless.
St. John regarded them wordlessly, his face warring between defiance and abject contrition.
“It’s not ahell, per se,” St. John finally said quietly.
St. John blanched at their expressions after that.
“Shame on all of you! Shame on you. We are so disappointed!Wirsindsoenttäuscht!”Angelique scolded.
Hans, Otto, and Friedreich were scarlet with rue. Mr. McDonald’s face was nearly as flaming as his hair.
They peered down at the roulette wheel, a clever little makeshift construction cobbled together from what appeared to be a scrap of wood left over from when Mr. Hugh Cassidy built the stage, foolscap carefully cut and inked, and various little bolts and screws. They wondered if it was a team effort or if St. John had methodically put it all together himself.
“‘Do not fashion roulette wheels’ is not in our rules because we all assumed you were gentlemen, and that it would be not only unnecessary butinsultingto spell out such a thing. I cannot believe grown men cannot find another way to pass the time.” Delilah's incredulity was scathing.
“Imagine what you could do with your life if you applied your ingenuity to almost literally anything else, St. John,” Captain Hardy added.
Never mind that St. John, as a gentleman and heir to a viscount, was not obliged to do anything with his life but enjoy it.
“We are going to discuss your fate,” Delilah said. “Please meet us in the reception room in exactly one hour to hear it. You may all wish to pack your bags just in case. You may recall we locked you out once before, St. John, and we have no compunctions about barring you permanently. Forever.Shameon all of you.”
All the men flinched again at her forceful “shame.”
It was Angelique who had arrived at an almost poetically brilliantly solution, which they presented to the pale and chagrined men squeezed together on one of the pink settees an hour later. Mr. McDonald had opted to stand.
“We’ve decided not to evict any of you. Instead, you, St. John, will learn to play the cello. You, Otto, will teach it to him.”
“I—” St. John squeaked.
“But—” Otto protested.
“You are not yet invited to speak,” Angelique said politely. “You will learn to play at least one very simple song competently within the next fewdays or we will tell your parents, the earl and the countess, what you’ve done and insist that they pay not only the fees for your room, but room and board for our German friends here as well. We know your father and he willnotbe pleased. I expect unfortunate things might happen to your allowance.”
She turned to Angus McDonald.