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“I . . . I understand that you lost both your parents at a young age,” she hesitantly said.
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the snapping of the heraldic banner flying above them, and the cry of a hawk circling overhead.
“I was seven when my mother died,” he said. “And I . . . we lost my father two years later.”
His tone was flat. Too flat.
A quiet sorrow that had as much to do with her mother as with his terrible loss rustled in her chest.
Kathleen reached out and touched his arm. “I’m so sorry.”
His gaze shifted to her hand resting on his sleeve. “You needn’t be. It was a long time ago.”
“But—”
Grant suddenly leaned over the parapet and looked down. “Ah, there’s Angus, waving at us. The carriage must be ready.”
When he turned back to her, his polite smile was firmly back in place. “Shall we go, Miss Calvert?”
The message was clear. Her sympathy—or anything else she might offer—was not wanted. As far as Kathleen was concerned, that was perfectly fine.
Chapter Eight
Will, the Kendrick’s under-butler, deftly caught the perfectly thrown cricket ball.
“Wide,” called Angus.
Kade whipped around to stare at his grandfather in disbelief. “Grandda, that bowl wasnotwide.”
Angus shrugged. “Looked wide to me.”
“It was well within Her Grace’s reach, and you know it.”
At the opposite end of their makeshift pitch, Gillian grinned as she casually leaned on her bat. “There’s no need for titles whilst playing cricket, my boy. And if it was such a good bowl, then why didn’t I strike it?”
“Because you know that Angus is throwing the match your way?” Kade retorted.
Kathleen smothered a laugh. A dreadful umpire to begin with, Angus had clearly decided to side with the ladies. He’d already made several outrageously bad calls against his grandson’s team, composed of Will, a footman, and two of the Kendrick grooms, one of whom switched between teams to fill in the gaps.
It was possibly the most ridiculous match in the history of cricket, and Kathleen had spent almost as much time laughing as she’d spent fielding the ball. It could barely qualify as a real game, given the small size of their teams and how the rules were being largely ignored by almost everyone but Kade and Kathleen.
Restless after two weeks away from her family, Gillian had suggested a match as a way toshake out the fidgets. Jeannie had thought it a smashing idea, and Kathleen had been unable to refuse. She loved cricket and was the best fielder in the family, though she rarely got to play since Helen disapproved of girls playing cricket.
Angus had suggested using the small park in front of Kendrick House for their field and had also agreed to serve as umpire. The other team members had been dragooned from the staff, and Gillian had decreed that the teams would be the ladies against the men. Kade had protested, since he was the only member of his team who’d actually played cricket. The duchess had insouciantly ignored his objections.
Playing in the public square had given Kathleen a bit of a qualm. True, the pretty little park was generally quiet, especially in the late afternoon, but it was still surrounded by houses. So far, their visit to Glasgow had been scandal free, and she wanted to keep it that way.
“We’ll ask Vicky,” Gillian had suggested. “If she says no, I suppose we’ll just have to go for a another walk to get some exercise.”
“Ugh,” Jeannie had said with a grimace. “I’m sick of walks.”
Victoria, going over the monthly accounts with Henderson in her study, had absently given her approval. So after they’d unearthed the necessary equipment out of the attic, they’d marched out to the square. Gillian and Kade had measured out the pitch, and Kathleen had explained the basic rules to Will and the somewhat bemused staff.
But if not for the blatant advantage provided by Angus, the men’s team would probably win. Kathleen had grown rusty, and Jeannie’s powerful swing was erratic. Gillian was the only member of their team with the athletic skill to offset superior male strength.
Angus, grabbing the kitchen stool meant to serve as a wicket, pretended to be outraged by Kade’s accusation. “Are ye truly accusin’ yer old grandda of being a cheat? Because if ye are, yer not too old for me to paddle yer bum.”
“You can borrow my bat if you like,” Jeannie offered with a sly grin.
