“Well done!” Robert called, clapping his hands. “A most impressive stroke!”
Cordelia laughed. “Jasper, you make it look effortless! I daresay the ball itself obeys you.”
Hazel nodded approvingly. “Quite the demonstration of skill, I must say.”
Jasper’s grin widened as he glanced toward Matilda, expecting… no,hopingfor even the slightest acknowledgement.
Nothing.
Her grey eyes were fixed on Hazel, bright and sparkling with laughter as she recounted some joke Hazel had just told. Her animated and joyful lips moved, but she didn’t so much as glance in his direction.
He raised an eyebrow, amused and infuriated in equal measure. “Not a word of praise?” he muttered under his breath. “I would have thought the lady who nearly fainted at my presence yesterday might at least acknowledge my… skill.”
Cordelia leaned close, whispering conspiratorially, “Perhaps she’s just plotting how to embarrass you, as usual.”
Jasper snorted quietly, though his attention remained fixed on Matilda. She was radiant, lively, and utterly immune to him at this very moment, and it drove him madder than any opponent on a battlefield ever could.
He swung his mallet again, this time with a flourish, making a show of guiding the ball perfectly to the next stake. Cheers erupted from the others. And still, Matilda laughed with the others, completely ignoring him.
Jasper was lining up his next shot when he noticed Matilda stepping a little too close to the stake, completely absorbed in the trajectory of her ball. A slow grin spread across his face. Perhaps a little distraction would remind her he existed.
“Careful, Lady Matilda!” he called, feigning alarm.
She didn’t flinch. “I assure you, Duke, I am perfectly safe,” she replied, still laughing with Cordelia.
Jasper leaned slightly forward, pretending to be concerned, but the thought struck him: if she misstepped, she might tumble right into the path of his ball. He frowned playfully at the idea. This would be a perfect, harmless scare, nothing more.
He gave the ball a gentle push, and it rolled straight… right toward her feet. Matilda shrieked and jumped backward, flailing her arms. Jasper acted shocked, throwing up his hands.
“Good heavens! Are you unharmed?” he asked, rushing forward, though secretly he was thoroughly entertained.
“I… I’m fine!” she exclaimed, brushing grass off her skirts. He noticed that her cheeks were pink with that mixture of shock and outrage he relished so much. “You… this is exactly why I refuse to trust you in any activity requiring balance!”
Jasper grinned, leaning casually on his mallet. “I only meant to… test your reflexes. It appears they are excellent.”
Matilda’s grey eyes narrowed dangerously, though her lips twitched in spite of herself. “Test my reflexes? You nearly sent me flying!
“Merely enhancing your skills, Lady Matilda. Consider it… practical instruction,” he replied smoothly.
Matilda muttered under her breath. “I do not have the words for how irritating you are.”
And that, for some reason, only seemed to spur him on.
Matilda was not often in the mood to be playful. Yet the afternoon sun, bright but not oppressive, and the merriment of her companions had managed to soften even her usual reserve. They were now gathered beneath a canopy of white canvas, where a table had been set with fresh tea, cakes, and the promise of further entertainment.
Evelyn was flushed with happiness and a sisterly zeal which could never be resisted nor entirely approved, and she now leaned forward in her chair with the triumphant look of one about to announce a wicked scheme.
“We shall play charades,” she declared, “just as we used to in Bath. And this time in pairs! It will be livelier, I am certain.”
Matilda, who had been at first inclined to think very well of the idea, felt her contentment diminish with every word.
Pairs.Of course.
She had not survived six-and-twenty years, one ill-fated marriage, and countless mortifications only to be placed inprecisely the company she wished to avoid. And indeed, she needed no oracle to tell her how this would be arranged.
Cordelia clapped her hands. Hazel arched a brow of amusement. Evelyn smiled too broadly for innocence.
“Matilda and His Grace, the Duke of Harrow will be the first pair,” Evelyn announced with the triumphant tone of a hostess certain she has contrived a delight.
