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Chapter28
James found me the following morning in the library, wearing a look of mischief so broad I was equal parts alarmed and entertained.
“What have you schemed this morning, sir?” I questioned, setting Evelina on my lap.
“I’ve found the components needed for a certain activity which I am certain will bring both of us joy.”
“Oh?” I could not, for the life of me, figure what it could be. But the way James stood before me grinning, his hands behind his back as he rocked on his heels, it was clear he was feeling mightily proud of his idea. I did not wish to dampen his enthusiasm.
“So long as it does not involve horses, I am prepared to enjoy whatever you’ve come up with.” I set the slip of paper inside the book and closed it, but not before James noticed what I’d used to mark my place.
“That was one of the notes I wrote when I left for York, was it not?”
“Yes, I use it as a marker.”
“Can you believe that was only last month? It certainly feels much longer since that occurred.”
I took his hand. “Much, much longer.”
He looked at me from the side, taking my arm to lead me from the room. “You must have liked the little notes I left if you kept them.”
“They were decent, I suppose.”
He glanced over sharply, and I smiled broadly.
“You little tease,” he muttered, his low voice diving directly to my belly.
“I’m learning from the best.”
James directed me to the door which led to the lawn in the back garden of the estate, and I was surprised to find a small table set out containing a pair of battledores and a shuttlecock. I had played this game as a child with my cousins at their annual house party and disliked it excessively then. I imagined the years since had not altered me enough to enjoy it any more now.
But James was too proud of his idea, too convinced—heaven knew why—that I’d enjoy the game, for me to do much else but pretend.
“Battledore and shuttlecock,” I said. “I have not played since I was a girl.”
“I realize it is often a children’s game, but I do not know why that is the case. My brothers and I pull out our old battledores on occasion still, and it is great fun. The bird is not too difficult to hit at least a handful of times.”
For some, perhaps. He obviously believed he had hit upon an activity that was so easy, anyone could master it. I was about to show him how truly inept a woman could be when it came to sporty pursuits of any kind, at any level.
We each took up a battledore and separated on the lawn. James tossed the bird into the air, its feathers glinting in the sunlight, and whacked it in my direction.
I ducked. In my defense, the thing was coming directly toward me.
“You are meant to try and hit it back to me, Liss.”
“Oh, is that how it’s played?” I bent to retrieve the bird and puffed a breath from my cheeks. I tossed the shuttlecock into the air and spun my battledore, but missed it completely, and it plopped on the ground.
“Give it another go, darling.”
Darling. I could quite get used to that. I picked up the bird again and tried to hit it with much the same result.
“Again?” James called. His dubious tone betrayed his uncertainty. “Perhaps if I move closer?”
As though that would help me to hit the bird I was tossing in the air. He was sweet in his unrelenting optimism. I tried to smile. “I am sure that will help.”
James moved closer still. I tossed the bird into the air and swung my battledore as hard as I could, connecting the netting with the shuttlecock. It flew straight and fast, landing squarely on James’s face.
He shouted in surprise and tossed his battledore to the ground, lifting his hand to cover his eye.
