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CHAPTERSIX
Evan had been attemptingto control his temper and his jealousy since Rangeley had joined them.
The man was handsome as sin and just as ethical. Evan could spot a practiced rake, which Rangeley most certainly was.
Were the rumors true about Rangeley hunting for a wife? And who had he chosen for prey?
The idea of the man pursuing Evie… Evan’s gaze landed on the her as she moved toward the fourth hoop to begin the game.
Evie hit a good shot toward the first hoop, both women cheering. He was glad he’d managed to hang onto his temper as he watched her celebrate with the other woman. While Rangeley clearly held some interest in Evie, she seemed completely immune to the earl, her attention on Lady Matilda and, well, himself.
Her gaze had begged him to understand and he did. Evie and Matilda were well matched and would make fine friends.
And he’d managed to figure that out before he’d frightened Evie away with a fit of temper. If he could only execute that control more often, he’d truly be better for it.
“Which lady do you think would make a better Lady Rangeley?” Rangeley asked, stroking his chin in thought.
Then again, the game was young and Rangeley was exceptionally annoying. “Pursue Lady Evelyn and I shall break your fingers one at a time. Slowly.”
“Lady Matilda then,” the other man answered, stepping away with an unconcerned shrug to hit his first ball.
But Evan grabbed his shoulder, stopping him before he could walk away. “Don’t you fancy a real connection rather than an arbitrary choosing of a woman?”
Rangeley’s false smile finally slipped. “Both women are attractive yet quiet enough that they don’t have the same prospects as some other ladies of our set. And as I need a wife quickly…either would make a fine choice.”
So. The rumors were true. His frown deepened. “What about your happiness? Hers?”
Rangeley looked at him as though he’s suddenly sprouted an extra head. “Saving my future would make me exceptionally happy and grateful. And as to her happiness, I would endeavor to make the lady who chose to be my wife as happy as I could.”
That was a decent answer that left Evan a bit perplexed. Could marriage be that simple?
He thought of his cousin and his young bride. Clearly, they thought so.
Rangeley stepped up, swinging at his ball as he attempted a roquet. “Yes!” he shouted, his ball knocking into Evie’s. He swung the mallet around in a wide confident arc of celebration and then gave a happy whistle.
Matilda went next, her shot heading for the first hoop and Evie let out a whoop of joy. Evan smiled to hear her. She looked radiant as she clapped with joy.
“You were putting me on,” Evie said to Matilda. “You’re wonderful.”
Matilda shook her head. “It’s all a matter of math, really. And that…I understand.”
Evan stepped up next, his gaze settling on Evie as her lashes fluttered down on her cheeks. He hit the ball, missing the angle slightly, his shot going wide and out of bounds on the east side of the court. “Blast,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Don’t worry on it, Wingate. We can’t all be good.” Rangeley slapped his back as moved toward his ball to begin their next round of turns.
Evan held his breath as he tried to control his rising irritation. It was just a game. But as Rangeley crossed to stand next to the two ladies, his ball near theirs, he leaned down close and whispered something to both of them.
That cad of a man was going to outcharm Evan simply by being calmer. And that made Evan even angrier.
Angrier at Rangeley but mostly, angrier at himself.
The game continued, his irritation only rising as his playing grew worse and worse. He stepped on a ball, earning himself a foul, missed a shot entirely, swinging over the top, and then narrowly missed a hoop that should have been an easy shot.
By the time they were halfway through, he wished he’d stayed inside.
He muttered his irritation under his breath as he tried not to curse out loud. Had he been looking forward to this?
Rangeley had ruined the game.
