“An excellent match,” she declared, the two women laughing as they shook hands.
“An excellent match,” Melody seconded, suddenly nervous as she glanced around. “But who shall I play with next?”
“My partner is in need of a new partner,” the Marquess of Ramsbury’s familiar, friendly voice chimed in. “And I would not mind playing a game with you, Lady Selina, if you are not averse?”
Melody relaxed. “Thank you, Lord Ramsbury.”
She wandered off to the next set of cones, while the Marquess came to stand with Selina for a moment. After all, she still had not said whether or not she was averse to the idea.
I have no reason to be, do I? No, it will be a good thing to play a match with him. A show of accord.
“Would you like to throw first?” Selina asked.
The Marquess shook his head. “Ladies first. Always.”
“That is very kind of you.”
Selina took her position. Still bolstered by her previous triumph, she threw her ball with confidence… and cringed as it rolled right past the cone. The gleam of it seemed to mock her.
“A fine attempt,” the Marquess said, smiling at her. “Now, let me see what I can do.”
He rolled the ball with an expert arm, bending slightly at the knees, his back curved. The ball practically glided through the short grass, the faint knock of it hitting the cone sounding far louder than it could have been. It was a knock to Selina’s pride, too.
“Again, Lady Selina?” the Marquess asked, not gloating at all.
More determined than ever, Selina agreed and fetched her ball.
However, it seemed that her winning streak was over, as her next two throws missed the cone entirely. The Marquess had no such bad luck, hitting the cone each time. Indeed, if he had not been so precise, he might have won by more, for the ball would not have bounced back from the cone.
“I really think that, on occasions such as this, one is supposed to let the bride win,” Selina said with a wry chuckle, taking her loss well.
The Marquess smiled. “Ah, well, I am afraid I am an exception to that rule. For me, I may not have won the bride, but I defeated her.”
Selina laughed at the jest, glad that he, too, was taking his loss in good spirits. A few others playing nearby joined in with the amusement, their laughter drifting across the lawn.
Turning to see if Philip had heard, she blinked in surprise when she found him scowling in her direction.
“Youare the one marrying her, Philip. You cannot possibly be jealous,” Zachary teased as he lined up his ball.
Philip snapped his attention away from Selina, who was laughing so giddily in the Marquess’s company. “Who said I was jealous?”
“Your face. Your sour glare.” Zachary laughed and threw the ball, which glanced off the side of the cone. “What threat is the Marquess of Ramsbury to you?”
“That is nonsense. I am not jealous at all.”
Zachary quirked an eyebrow. “She is allowed to laugh with other people, Philip. If you deny her that, you will not have a very happy marriage.”
“It is not laughter with other people that irks me,” Philip protested. “It is the way the Marquess keeps staring at her when she is not looking. I do not think she is aware at all.”
“She is a beautiful woman, and her joy at the thought of marryingyouhas made her even more beautiful. Of course, gentlemen are going to stare. Plenty of them were staring last night, but I did not see you scowling.”
“I was in her company then,” Philip replied. “Gentlemen were not saying whatever they liked to her.”
Zachary chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “I think you need to take a deep breath and calm yourself.Youhave her;hedoes not.”
“No, I know exactly what I need to do,” Philip replied, casually tossing his ball toward Zachary’s cone.
It rolled right up to it, flush against it. A winning roll.
