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“That I do, but my brother, Walter, has reminded me of something we do every year.”
“Our cricket match!” Walter said, looking up from the newspaper. “We always play toward the end of the summer and this year’s game is long overdue. I hope you will play too, Mr Blake?”
Marcus was surprised when Mr Blake didn’t answer right away, but he downed what was left in his glass before lifting his chin and nodding with a smile.
“I’d be delighted to.”
Marcus did not miss the hesitation there. The more he watched Mr Blake, the more he was certain that there was something hidden, perhaps a secret or a nervousness he was unwilling to speak of. Marcus had to hope that in time, his new friend would come to confide in him.
***
“Then swing it forward,” Sherborne said, demonstrating to Violette how to use the cricket bat.
“Right, I think I have it,” Violette said, taking the bat from him and giving it a go herself.
“That looks about right.” He stepped back, appraising her form as they stood in the centre of the lawn, waiting for Lord Northrive and his brothers to come out to play the game. “I’m still surprised that for all the sports you do know, cricket isn’t one of them. Even I used to play in the back-to-back houses.”
“Well, my brother didn’t like cricket, and my father was certainly never interested in showing us any such games. It just passed me by,” she said, taking another swing.
“Look sharp, here they come,” Sherborne said, before making an appearance of walking away. “Remember, keep your sleeves down.”
“It’s too hot!” she complained, to which he just rolled his eyes. They had discussed the matter more than once, and regardless of her arguments, Sherborne always won, pointing out how delicately built her wrists and forearms were, they would give her away in a moment.
With him out of earshot, she looked toward Lord Northrive and his brothers as they approached. Peter and Laurie were already trying to push one another over and steal the ball from each other, meanwhile Lord Northrive was rolling up his sleeves and walking directly toward her. The flash of muscle on show made her breath quicken and her cheeks flush red.
“Keep calm, Victor,” she said to herself, adopting her male name.
“Ready for this?” Lord Northrive said as he reached her side.
“As I’ll ever be.” She winced as she watched Peter and Laurie continue to play fight. The night before, she had addressed them as Lord Peter and Lord Laurence, as was custom, but they had both quickly insisted that she call them Peter and Laurie instead. “What do the victors of the match get?”
“Pride,” Peter said, coming to a stop and adopting a formal stance, which was quickly ruined by Laurie nearly shoving him over again.
“Hmm, I’d prefer a port,” she said, looking to Lord Northrive and prompting him to laugh.
The game was faster paced than Violette had anticipated, with her constantly having to change positions, sometimes running across the lawn in order to catch the ball and other times taking up the position of bowler. It was not long before it was decided that despite her inexperience, she could well be the best player amongst them.
“He’s better than you,” Peter said again from where he stood behind the cricket stumps, just a little beyond where Lord Northrive stood carrying the bat.
“No, he’s not,” Lord Northrive said. Violette grew rather distracted looking at him, thinking of the sweat beading on his forehead and the strength displayed in his athletic arms as he geared up for her to throw the ball. It made her mind go to rather fun places, to imagine what it could be like to see Lord Northrive above her with those forearms braced on either side of her.
“What if I am?” Violette said in challenge, tossing the ball into the air and catching it with one hand.
“I’ll wager you that port that you cannot hit the stumps without me hitting the ball,” Lord Northrive said in a challenge.
“Then we have a wager,” she said and backed up a little bit. As she took up position, she heard Peter teasing his brother again.
“He’s still better than you.”
“No, he isn’t! Be quiet, Peter,” Lord Northrive urged.
With care, Violette took her run up and threw the ball. It worked perfectly, flying straight past him and into the stumps, just as Lord Northrive struck with the bat, hitting only air.
“I knew it!” Peter said loudly, jumping for delight, just as Lord Northrive dropped the bat and shook his head.
“It seems like I’m owed a port,” Violette said, matching his stance.
“God damn it,” he said with a laugh. “I need to stop betting against you.”
