“Oh, don’t go in yet. I’ve hardly spent any time with you this whole week.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I’m sure there’s nothing we need to discuss concerning the estate now. Surely whatever it is can wait until Fellingsdown’s summer party is over.”
“Do you think the estate is the only topic I’d like to discuss with you?”
“Perhaps not, Mr. Waverley. But as I’ve indicated before, I’m not interested in furthering a personal relationship with you.”
Fire flashed from Waverley’s eyes. She wasn’t sure if the reason for his anger was because she’d called him Mr. Waverley, which he hated, or because she’d rebuffed him yet again.
“Then perhaps you should consider how essential I am to the running of Lathamton Estate. Or that I am next in line for the Lathamton title – after your son, of course.”
How dare he!
“Are you issuing a warning?”
“What would I have to warn you about? I’m just stating a fact. Developing a friendship with Lord Fellingsdown may not be beneficial to you. Or to your son.” He paused. “Or to Fellingsdown.”
Cassie couldn’t find her voice. Was he serious? “What are you saying?” she finally asked when she could speak.
“Nothing, Cassandra. Except that from the day Lord Lathamton took me into his home, I’ve controlled the estate. I was trained to take care of it because it was obvious Everett would never be capable. I’m not about to hand everything over to an interloper who already has more than he needs or deserves.”
Cassie clenched her hands at her sides and faced Waverley with all the bravado she could muster. “I’m going to forget you said something so foolish. And so threatening. Lathamton Estate belongs to my son, the Earl of Lathamton. If you ever make such traitorous remarks again, you will find yourself banned from setting foot on Lathamton property ever again.”
The look in Waverley’s eyes held more hatred than she’d ever seen before. She was suddenly terrified.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she said and walked away from him. Her legs trembled and her stomach lurched, and she thought she’d be ill.
What if he were serious? What if he posed a threat to her son? To Harrison?
She had to think. She had to figure out what she could do to protect them.
The next day was as perfect for the big competition as anyone could have ordered. The temperature wasn’t too warm, nor was it too cool. The breeze wasn’t too brisk, but gentle enough to make an exquisite day.
Even the moods of the guests sitting around the luncheon table contributed to the almost carnival-like atmosphere. There was an abundance of laughing and joking, and the never-ceasing buzz of conversation that centered around only one topic – the croquet match.
Elly wished it were over. She wasn’t sure how she would survive until it was.
She looked up and down the table. Even Harrison seemed resolved to enjoy the challenge. He took the light ribbing from the other guests with a humorous attitude and accepted the teasing comments from his siblings with a smile.
Cassie, of course, remained quiet, and even a little remote, but Elly could understand that. Cassie was probably as nervous as she was. But they seemed to be the only ones. Everyone else talked of nothing except the match.
George, Jules, and Lillian placed their wagers on Harrison and Cassie. Spence, Patience, and both Elly’s brothers-in-law opted to back Elly and Charfield.
Even their two aunts were divided, Aunt Gussie convinced that Elly and Charfield would come out the winner and Aunt Esther equally convinced the victor would be Harrison and Lady Lathamton.
And so the banter went. It had begun, of course, the minute Jules called for a wager. Talk throughout dinner last night had been of little else, and even though Elly hoped everyone’s excitement would die down, it hadn’t. Now, just minutes before the match was to begin, everyone seemed, if anything, even more excited.
Everyone except her. She was so nervous she hadn’t been able to eat much of her breakfast and even less of her lunch.
The twins had planned a superb menu of cold meats and cheeses served with a variety of warm breads, and for desert, a special iced lemon custard. She tried to do justice to their exquisite planning but it was impossible. Having everyone gathered together in the same room only added to the guests’ excitement as they discussed the upcoming croquet match.
The close outcome of the previous match between Fellingsdown and Charfield only fueled the debate over which team would come out on top. Of course, special care was given to avoid commenting on Elly’s inexperience – or inability. Or on the fact that Lady Lathamton hadn’t played much of the previous match so no one knew how she would react under pressure. Thankfully, at least for now, the comparison was between Brent and Harrison.
That should have made her feel better, but it didn’t. All she could do was push the food around on her plate and pretend to eat. Anything more would probably cause her churning stomach to revolt.
“Perhaps you’d like to try a bit of
my
cold chicken,” Charfield said, inching his plate toward her. “It’s really quite delicious.”
She looked into his smiling face. “I have my own, thank you.”
“I thought perhaps there might be something wrong with your food.”
“No, it’s excellent.”
“Then there must be something else that’s keeping you from eating. Perhaps you ate too much this morning for breakfast?”
She narrowed her gaze and gave him a narrowed glare.
“Oh, that’s right. You hardly ate anything for breakfast either. Do I have cause for worry? I’d hate for my partner to faint during our match from lack of food.”
He was teasing her – again. “You know perfectly well I’m fine.” She smoothed the linen napkin on her lap. “I’m a little nervous, if you must know.”
“Nervous over what?”
She gave him a look she hoped was more deadly than the last, but from the way he continued to devour the food on his plate, she doubted he even noticed her annoyance. Even though her heart raced every time he came near her, she was glad he’d escorted her in to eat and sat beside her. His relaxed presence and confident manner were all that kept her from announcing to the entire gathering that she couldn’t participate in their croquet competition.
It would be easy enough to do. Everyone knew she wasn’t accomplished enough. Her family would understand that she didn’t want to do something that would cause people to stare at her.
“Surely you don’t doubt your ability.”
“Of course I doubt my ability. I only just learned to play. I’m not good enough by half.”
“Your shots are more accurate than any player I’ve ever played against - with the possible exception of your brother of course.”
“Which is exactly why you should have chosen someone with whom you stood a better chance of winning.”
“Is winning so very important to you?”
She slid a piece of fruit from one side of her plate to the other. Finally she breathed a deep sigh and lowered the fork to her plate. “No. It’s not the winning or the losing I care about.”
“Then I fail to see why you are so concerned?”
“It’s me. It’s the assistance I need to swing the mallet. It’s the way I allow you to hold me to keep me from falling. It’s—”
His burst of laughter stopped her words and drew the attention of everyone sitting near them. With a unison turn of heads, the couples on either side and directly across from them turned to see what was so amusing. Elly picked up her fork again and stabbed at a piece of chicken, then put it in her mouth and chewed as if nothing were the matter.
She concentrated on her food until conversation around them resumed then said, “Do you know what people will think when you hold me?”
Charfield was in the process of lifting his glass to his mouth and he stopped, then slowly turned his head to look at her over the rim of his glass - and smiled. His eyes contained more than a bit of humor, as well as the most suggestive look she’d ever seen.
“Yes. Every man here who is not your brother will think I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
“Hardly!” Her loud guffaw caused half the table to look at them again. Elly pretended she didn’t notice and lifted her water and took a drink. The liquid was cool and clean and tasted like sawdust when it went down.
“You have nothing to worry about,” he whispered. “You play like an expert.”
“Beginners luck,” she mumbled.
“Perhaps it was the first time you played, but you were better yesterday. Even better when we practiced this morning at dawn.”
“But what if—”
Charfield turned in his chair, causing her to stop.
“You might as well give up, Elly. I’m not going to let you talk me into finding another partner.”
She clenched her hands in her lap and he placed his long, strong fingers over hers and gave her a gentle squeeze.
When had he started calling her Elly?
When had his touch calmed her like no other touch could?
“You’ll be fine. Better than fine. You’ll be marvelous.”
Elly doubted she’d be fine, but it no longer mattered. Besides, she couldn’t risk talking any more. They’d drawn enough attention as it was.
The staff served the iced lemon custard, which the guests devoured in no time, and when they finished, Harrison rose to his feet.
“Are you and your partner ready, Charfield?”
Charfield gave Elly’s fingers another squeeze beneath the table followed by a quick wink before he turned his attention to Harrison.
“My partner and I have finalized our winning strategy.”
This boast of confidence brought a round of cheers and jeers, depending upon which couple a bet had been wagered.
“Then I suggest we get this competition under way.”
There was an even louder rumble of excitement, then the men pushed back from the table to help the ladies rise. Before Elly could take a calming breath, the room was empty except for her and Brent and Harrison and Cassie. But they were at the other end of the table.
Charfield stood at her side wearing one of the most endearing smiles she’d ever seen. “Are you ready?” he asked, extending his arm.
“As ready as I’ll ever be. Just don’t say you weren’t warned when you take hold of me so I can take my first swing and one – or all – of my brothers challenge you to a duel.”
“Haven’t you heard? Duels are illegal.”
“So was French wine not that many years ago and we all enjoyed it in abundance.”
Charfield laughed. The deep, rich...genuine sound was the most intoxicatingly wonderful thing she’d ever heard. She couldn’t help but revel in the sense of composure that washed over her. Without the dread she’d felt earlier, she placed her hand on his forearm and rose to her feet.
Harrison stood at the other end of the table. “Are you ready to face your defeat?” It was as if he were intentionally adding a bit of fuel to the already charged challenge and Elly suddenly realized that he was actually enjoying this.
“You’re very confident for a brother who’s never seen his sister hit a ball before,” Charfield said.
“What I
am
confident of,” Harrison answered, crossing his arms over his chest, “is
my
talent combined with my partner’s. I’m afraid you will find us quite undefeatable.”
Elly caught the wink Harrison gave Cassie and the shy smile she answered in return. The air suddenly seemed charged with something quite magical.
No matter what had happened to tear them apart four years ago, there wasn’t a doubt in Elly’s mind they still loved each other and fate had played a very nasty trick on both of them.
She didn’t know what had made Cassie accept the invitation she’d sent, but she vowed she would do whatever she could to play matchmaker.
“Come, Lady Elyssa,” Charfield said, holding out her cane. “It’s time to show this braggart what
real
talent is.”
Elly walked at Charfield’s side across the terrace then down the steps and around the house to the east lawn where the croquet course was set up. The other guests were already there, chatting and laughing about the marvelous fun they would have this afternoon.
“Since I supposedly issued the challenge,” Elly heard Charfield say to her brother, “I insist that you and your partner go first.”
Harrison gave them both a perfectly executed bow and came up with a smile on his face. “On behalf of my partner, I accept the courtesy.”
A cheer erupted from the guests. The gathering was positioned far enough from the players not to interfere with the play, yet close enough that Elly was certain she could feel them breathing down her neck.
But at least she didn’t have to hit her ball first.
She exhaled a huge sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure she’d have the courage to go first.
Cassie’d chosen yellow as her color and she started the game. She tapped her ball through the starting wickets, then took aim and hit her ball toward the first station. Her shot was perfect, stopping a short distance from her goal.
A loud cheer went up and she turned to give the crowd a nod of appreciation.
Harrison was next. He’d chosen the blue ball and his shot landed even closer to the goal, as expected. Another rousing cheer went up from the onlookers and Harrison turned to give them a regal bow, befitting his station as the future Duke of Sheridan.
Elly was next.
She’d chosen the red ball and Charfield placed it at the starting position.
“Are you ready, my lady?”
There was a soft look in his eyes; a calm, encouraging expression on his face. His intent was to put her at ease but she was far too tense for her fears to evaporate.
She nodded, and took her position behind the ball. The group applauded encouragingly, whether to show support for an achievement no one thought she’d be brave enough to attempt, or to encourage her to do her best, regardless of how ungainly her swing might be.
She knew not one of her family or their guests expected perfection. They probably didn’t imagine she’d get her red ball close to its target.
A few even shouted words of encouragement, and she smiled when George’s voice came through with distinction over the rest of the group. She had the best family in the world. They wanted her to succeed at whatever she tried.
Elly swallowed hard, then looked over her shoulder to where Brent stood. “We might as well start.” She prayed she wasn’t making a huge mistake.
The crowd was still cheering her on, urging her to make her first hit. Brent stepped closer to her and placed his left hand on her waist.
The riotous noise coming from the onlookers turned noticeably softer.
Brent held out his right arm and Elly hooked her cane over his forearm. Then, he stepped up even closer and placed his right hand on the other side of her waist.
The silence from the crowd was deafening.
Elly froze.
“Hit the ball, sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear, “or you may not get a chance to.”
Elly shifted her position, then with Charfield holding her steady, she hit the ball.
Brent didn’t release her, but kept his hands around her waist. It took a while for everyone to move their gazes from the improper way Charfield held her, to how expertly she’d hit the ball.