Page 10 of The Perfect Rose

Quentin smiled at Miriam, and his cheeks went a little ruddy. Had she embarrassed him, or did he harbor feelings for Frederick’s sister?

Frederick swallowed and tried to clear his head. This house party was already making him analyze intentions and secrets far too much. A change of subject was in order. “How are your crops looking this year?” The Redford’s property bordered the north of their estate and struggled producing crops year after year. It had been a problem nagging at him for some time. That and the fact that Quentin was trying to undo generations of heirs gambling away the family coffers. Rebuilding the family’s wealth was a noble undertaking, but surely it would take a long time.

“Much the same as the last few years; we can’t seem to get the plants to thrive with how wet the land is.”

Frederick nodded, thinking. From the corner of his eye, Lady Rose covered her mouth with one gloved hand and laughed a musical laugh at something Samuel said to her. Why was it she seemed so nice when he saw her from afar? Every time he had a personal interaction with her, she was all needles. Then Miriam produced what was almost certainly the same laugh as he’d heard from Lady Rose, complete with the gloved hand covering her mouth. It wasn’t Miriam’s normal laugh. Odd.

Frederick shook himself; what had he been thinking? Oh yes, the Redford’s estate. Quentin was an underappreciated gentleman, about the same age as himself, and as strong as an ox. He’d done much of the labor on the land himself, and it had to be frustrating not to have better success. Truthfully, one of the reasons Frederick had insisted that the Redfords were invited to the house party was an excuse to feed them for a couple weeks. Not that they would admit the extent of their financial woes of the past couple generations, but Frederick wanted to help out his childhood friend. Quentin was proud though, keeping his struggles to himself even if they were the source of gossip at times. “I’m still thinking on how we can help you turn that plot into something more effective.” He tilted his head toward Quentin who nodded his head in understanding. He never had been a man of many words.

A high-pitched giggle from Miss Haybury cut through the peaceful air. He turned and spied the woman attempting to feed Lord Hanby a grape, which the man was refusing with a stone face. For how substantial her dowry was, her words and actions didn’t ever quite line up with those of the upper crust of society. How the woman felt it was a time to giggle was beyond Frederick. He glanced at Miriam, who sat cool and collected. She was quieter than what he’d expected for the occasion. Her attention was also on the other blanket, but he noticed that she was an exact mirror of Lady Rose: her posture, the tilt of her head, the pursed lips as if she was praying for patience. Miriam was obviously copying Lady Rose from afar.

Frederick sighed. At least in this instance, Lady Rose was correct, Miss Haybury was making quite a fool of herself over Lord Hanby. The giggling had only increased, the viscount only looking more upset.

Samuel stood and offered his hand to Lady Rose. She accepted and the two took a turn about the nearby grounds. Frederick watched Miriam out of the corner of his eye. What had been an admirable mimic had turned into a hawk-like glare toward the couple. The change had Frederick wondering: Was Miriam interested in Samuel? She’d been around him enough to have formed an attachment. What could be more natural? He’d have to keep an eye on her more closely to know for sure. If she preferred his best friend, he’d do all he could to help her along. A match between two of the people he cared about the most would be perfect for him. However, he figured it was good to let Miriam stew about Samuel and Lady Rose for the moment. It might bring her feelings to the forefront more than anything else.

Watching Samuel and Lady Rose turn past a hedgerow, Frederick owned the fact that his friend would be a good fit for either Lady Rose or Miriam. He decided to keep an eye on Lady Rose and Samuel to gauge for himself whether the two were forming an attachment of some sort. He got to his feet and brushed himself off. “Miss Coolidge, would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you toward the archery targets?”

Jane Coolidge blushed as easily as Frederick laughed. She reminded Frederick of a brown rabbit, stealthy and soft looking, with a small nose. “Thank you, Mr. Hastings.” Miss Coolidge took his arm hesitantly. How was she feeling at this house party? Being new to the neighborhood and thrown in with a handful of people who had shared quite a history with each other was likely more than a little nerve wracking.

“How do you fare with a bow and arrow, Miss Coolidge?”

She shrugged in response. Frederick hadn’t known her long enough to interpret that action.

“Ah, a mystery. You wish to make me wait in suspense. So be it. I will be thoroughly pleased whatever the outcome. If you shoot well, you will be a worthy opponent; if you do not, I will be your tutor. Just imagine it,” he put his hands up before him in the air, “Mr. Frederick Hastings: best archery tutor in all of England.”

Miss Coolidge giggled beside him quietly, and Frederick gave himself a mental pat on the back. As they rounded the shrubbery, they came face to face with Lady Rose and Samuel. Frederick made a mental effort not to engage the dragon. He gave a small bow and turned to his friend. “Have you been practicing without me? It’ll do no good, Samuel. You know I always win.”

Samuel shook his head and raised his hands next to his ears in mock surrender. “I’ll allow you to win just so long as I don’t have to stand on the field with an apple on my head. I’ve seen you miss too many fence posts to trust you that much, Freddy.” He laughed and Frederick joined him.

“That was ages ago. I’ve come a long way since we were boys.” Frederick puffed out his chest.

“Have you?” Lady Rose arched one haughty eyebrow and looked to Samuel as if for confirmation.

Samuel chuckled. “Are we not all still boys at heart?”

Lady Rose dipped her head. “Some more than others.”

Frederick clenched his jaw. Do not engage a dragon. Deep breath. “Would you be up for a challenge then?” he said to her. So much for a deep breath.

“Name your targets, sir.”

“Once I’ve shot with Miss Coolidge, I am happy to oblige.” He led his companion to the grassy area where servants had provided plenty of bows and arrows to choose from. Miss Coolidge chose a good-proportioned bow for herself, and the fact that she had some idea of her skills was evidence that she wouldn’t need as much training as he’d assumed. She shot well, but not well enough to keep his mind from wandering to his upcoming victory. His win against Miss Coolidge was proving to be just a warm-up to what Lady Rose would have to face. After a particularly good shot of his, Miss Trenton approached him and asked for a lesson. He gladly agreed to teach her after he fulfilled his competition. It seemed his archery card would fill up faster than a dance card.

Lady Rose and Samuel stood apart from the group, in conversation. It was impossible to gauge her ability if she didn’t even come near the equipment, but he remained unworried. His mind was busy determining just how handily he could beat the dangerous Lady Rose and still be considered a gentleman. There were no rules that said Frederick had to play nicely, and he’d love to give her a reason to be humble.

When Miss Coolidge told him she wanted a moment to rest, he left her with Miss Trenton and made his way to the dragon. He eyed the surrounding area. The targets were far too close for his skill level. It wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying unless he was challenged a little. He bowed when he reached her. “Lady Rose, what do you say to three shots. I pick a target, you pick a target, and Samuel picks a target?”

“Agreed.” Lady Rose marched off to find a bow. It was the most elegant march he’d ever witnessed, and yet, there was no denying she was preparing for war. He hoped the battle would give her pride a few wounds, but not fell her entirely. He was still too goodhearted to wish her truly miserable. She would still be living in his home during her recovery, after all. He followed her figure toward the bows. Lady Rose was still in the selection process, weighing the bows and testing their strings. She could take all the time she needed; he smirked and turned away.

As Frederick surveyed the field, he noted that save for Mr. Trenton and Mr. Coolidge who were shooting together, the protective parents had taken up a sort of gallery to watch the events under an obliging tree a safe distance from the targets. Lady Gardner seemed particularly interested in the events, watching her daughter through squinting eyes. He’d have to tread carefully so as to not upset the countess. The last thing he needed was to get on her bad side. He spotted a similar large tree across the field. It had a perfect knot in its trunk that would be an appropriate, yet unanticipated target. He smiled to himself and looked around for Lady Rose, who was looking at the targets set up across the lawn.

“Are you prepared to nock your arrows, Lady Rose?”

She scorched him with a look of what he could only interpret as fierce determination and haughtiness. “When you are, Mr. Hastings.”

It was odd. Her words were so normal, so practiced, so expected. He’d been prepared for a verbal sparring, and he deflated a bit. “Do you see that knot in the trunk of the oak across the way?” He pointed across the expanse of lawn.

“Yes, I see it.”