“Both of you?” Hazel echoed, incredulity coloring her tone. “You mean the Duke was in the pond as well?”
“Yes!” Matilda snapped, spinning slightly, feeling the damp curls sticking to her cheeks. “He… well, he was too close! And I had no choice but to grab him as I fell, and oh, it was a disaster!”
Cordelia finally laughed outright, clapping her hands together. “Oh, Matilda! I cannot say I am surprised. You two are hopeless together.”
Matilda’s lips pressed into a thin line, her cheeks burning. “I assure you, I had no part in making it a disaster. It was entirely him!”
Hazel exchanged a glance with Cordelia, her lips twitching with restrained humor. “Entirely him, you say? Somehow I feel that he will find this most entertaining to retell during dinner this evening.”
Matilda groaned, looking down at the puddle forming around her feet. “All I want is to be left in peace for the remainder of the afternoon.”
Cordelia only laughed louder, and Hazel shook her head with a fond sigh. “I think peace is rather the last thing that man intends to grant anyone, Matilda.”
Chapter Eleven
The following afternoon, the Kenton lawn was bathed in warm sunlight, the air fragrant with flowers and freshly cut grass. Jasper had expected a quiet afternoon, perhaps a moment to relax, but that was not to be.
Evelyn clapped her hands and announced with that bright, energetic tone of hers. “Now, everyone! We shall play croquet. It will be fun, and each of you shall play against all others, every man, every lady, for the glory of skill and precision!”
He raised an eyebrow at Mason, who only shrugged with that infuriating calm of his, and cast a glance toward Matilda. She was poised with a mallet in her hand, her skirts tucked just so, looking impossibly proper despite the exertion she’d suffered the day before.
Jasper felt a smile tug at his lips.Croquet. It was a game of strategy, patience, and the occasional jostle of luck. Nothing dangerous, nothing wet. And yet… knowing Matilda wouldbe close, with her eyes sharp and her lips pressed in that determined line, he felt a thrill he hadn’t anticipated.
He picked up his mallet, running a hand over the smooth wood, and caught sight of Matilda across the lawn. She didn’t even glance in his direction. That was perfectly infuriating.
“May the best player win,” he called lightly, raising his mallet in mock solemnity.
She didn’t even blink. She didn’t so much as twitch. Jasper’s jaw tightened. How dare she ignore him?
He strode a few paces closer, trying to catch her eye, but she was wholly focused on the game, perfectly oblivious to his existence. For some inexplicable reason, the complete lack of acknowledgment made his chest tighten with irritation he hadn’t felt in years.
By the time the game began in earnest, with balls clacking and mallets swinging, he found himself watching her movements with more intensity than necessary. Every tilt of her head, every careful step she took, seemed designed to aggravate him by its utter disregard for his presence.
And yet… he could not deny the fascination it sparked. The more she ignored him, the more he wanted her attention. Every missed glance, every serene disregard, was like a dare.
Every so often, someone called her name or offered a suggestion on how to line up a shot, and each time she responded with laughter and good humor.
“Ah, Matilda, perhaps if you aim a touch more to the left, you might clear the stake!” Cordelia called, gesturing dramatically.
Matilda’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling. “Ah, Cordelia, and here I thought the stake was conspiring against me! Left it is! But do not think I shall forgive it if it continues to mock my aim!”
Hazel shook her head, trying not to laugh. “You have a most… inventive way of addressing obstacles, my dear.”
“I assure you,” Matilda said, spinning around with a flourish, “the stakes themselves tremble at my approach. One must always maintain decorum, even when toppling over inanimate objects.”
Jasper’s jaw tightened. She was radiant, playful, and utterly bright in the presence of everyone else, but as soon as he opened his mouth, she ignored him completely. He stepped closer, mallet tapping against the grass.
He tried to near her, but she pulled away from him. In fact, she didn’t so much as glance in his direction. Instead, she laughed and leaned toward Mason. “Mason, do you think the ball prefers polite coaxing or a sharp command? I have yet to discover its temperament!”
Mason raised an eyebrow, grinning. “I believe it favors you, Matilda. But I would hesitate to anger it, it might bite.”
Matilda threw her head back in exaggerated horror. “Bite me? Preposterous! Surely a noble ball would never!”
Jasper’s hands clenched around his mallet, though he tried not to smile. She was impossible. Joyful, irrepressible, witty and deliberately ignoring him.
He muttered under his breath, “I cannot stand it.”
Jasper swung his mallet with precise ease, sending the ball rolling perfectly between the stakes. He glanced up at the group, smiling confidently.
