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13
Romy lost.
By onebloodypoint.
The game had dragged on much longer than anticipated. The sun was already low in the sky, and most of the other guests had either moved to the terrace to enjoy tea or gone up to their rooms before dinner.
Blythe strode past them on his way to the house, escorting Theo. He took Romy aside, whispering in her ear to pursue justice. Someone, he said, must put Granby in his place.
Haven appeared next, a smirk on his handsome face. He waited until Granby took his turn before murmuring cryptically to her, “He is already beat, Lady Andromeda. Only he doesn’t know it.”
No amount of goodwill, however, gained her the final crucial point she needed. When Granby knocked her bowl, putting him closer to the jack, she blinked stupidly in shock. The shot shouldn’t have been possible, given the distance and—
“The green is uneven,” she stated with assurance.
“I see you are prepared to accept your loss graciously,” came his sarcastic reply. “What a poor loser you are, Lady Andromeda.” The breeze was ruffling his hair again, making the dark strands drag against his collar.
Romy pulled her eyes away, refusing to allow the sight to distract her. Why didn’t he cut his hair? Like the gardens, the thick waves had been left to grow wild in blatant contradiction to the rest of Granby.
“It is rude to gloat, Your Grace.”
“I am a duke. I don’t need to gloat.”
The worst part of her loss was not Granby’s pleasure, which was considerable, but the fact that now Romy could not help Silas. He was destitute and homeless because of her.
Distraught over her loss, she walked back and forth along the green, looking for the flaw the carefully manicured lawn hid from view. So intent on her task, Romy neglected to inquire what Granby would demand for winning. Maybe an apology for insulting him. He’d probably enjoy watching her grovel. Or perhaps Granby would request that she and Theo leave The Barrow and return to London.
Theo would be furious.
Romy swallowed her pride, dipping low before him. “Thank you for the game, Your Grace,” she said as politely as she could, though the words choked her. “I’m sure you’ll inform me in due time what it is you require from me.”
“Undoubtedly,” he said quietly. Bowing to her, Granby turned on his heel and strode back to The Barrow, leaving Romy alone on the lawn with her thoughts.
* * *
Hadhe not left her on the lawn, David would have kissed her senseless.
Annoying,exquisitecreature.
An afternoon spent watching her athletic grace and bold determination to vanquish him left an ache stretching across David’s chest. Every swish of her skirts pulled him closer to her warm, lavender-scented, female skin, teasing his nostrils and causing his cock to twitch.
His desire for Andromeda existed in blatant defiance to the very ideals David had been raised to believe.
Once he reached the steps leading to the terrace, he paused, looking back at her. The sway of her skirts whispered to him, drawing his attention to the delicate line of her back.
Andromeda was pacing back and forth at the edge of the green, pausing at the point where a small, barely noticeable slope began. She hunched down, running her fingers over the grass.
Clever girl.David had never appreciated a woman’s intelligence the way he did Andromeda’s.
She’d been bloody magnificent during their match, openly triumphant with each point she picked up, never willing to concede his victory until the final moment. Andromeda displayed a bold confidence in her ability. There was no demure batting of lashes or false shows of modesty in her dealings with him. No blatant compliments to salve his masculine ego. None of the behavior young ladies were admired for. Instead, Andromeda openly challenged him over the fate of an elderly servant, bristling with the indignity she assumed David had bestowed upon him.
Silas had indeed been released from David’s employ, but not in such dramatic fashion. Blythe had deliberately left out some important facts. In contrast, David’s father, Horace, would have sacked poor Silas without a thought.
Unfortunately, the change in tailors hadn’t resulted in an improvement in the size of David’s collars, though Smithfield, the man he now employed, assured him the measurements were correct.
David glanced out once more at Andromeda. She’d started pacing back and forth again. He could almost hear her muttering to herself that he’d swayed the game in his favor.
He had.
