Matchmaking the Marquess (The League of Eligible Bachelors #3)

Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Much to Lord Montcort’s chagrin, the plan worked beautifully, and Lord Rayburton and Lady Charlotte were the winners of the cherry tarts. And Mia could not be happier for them. If she was being honest, she had very little desire to share a tray of tarts with Lord Montcort. The more time she spent with him, the more he confused her. There had been a time in the carriage when she had thought that they could perhaps be friends, but that feeling had fled with his petulance over the pilfered arrow.

She did not dislike him. That was too strong of a word. Perhaps they just needed a reprieve from each other. Maybe with some time and distance, she would not find him quite so aggravating.

She still could not understand how he was Ben’s dearest friend. She would need to ask Ben about it when next they were together. If they were ever together.

As the noise of congratulations to the winning pair died down, Mia clapped her hands. “For our last game, the ladies will hang a trinket—something that is not commonly known to the group—on the target while the gentlemen avert their eyes. The gentlemen will take turns shooting. Whomever’s trinket you hit, you will either take on a walk or a carriage ride.”

His Grace let out a disgruntled sigh. “You are forcing affections now, are you?”

Mia dropped her head to the side and raised a brow at him. “Affections cannot be forced, Your Grace. I’m simply providing a chance for people to become better acquainted. If the lady does not like you, there is nothing I can do about it.” She smiled sweetly at him, wondering at Ben’s friendship with that man also.

“Well played, my lady.” Lord Montcort leaned over and whispered in her ear.

“Now, if all the gentlemen will please turn around and cover their eyes—no peeking—the women will withdraw their trinket and pin it to the targets.”

There was far more giggling than Mia would have liked. But there was nothing for it.

With all the trinkets in place, the women returned to the tables and Mia clapped her hands again. “Alright, gentlemen. You may take your places. You will shoot one at a time and may aim for any trinket you choose. If there is a certain lady you wish to spend time with…” Mia glanced over at Ben and found him watching her. Her heart skipped a beat. “I suggest you discern as best you can which trinket is hers.” She held up a hand to quell more giggles. “And ladies, do not give away your secret. I expect everyone to behave properly, with no cheating.” At that, she looked at Lord Montcort. For once, he would not have her as a partner. Or if he did, it rested solely at the feet of the fates.

“May we get closer to the target to look? It is deuced difficult to see one trinket from another this far back.” Lord Montcort gave her a knowing look. Did he know which trinket was hers?

She found the thought unlikely. Ben had made that necklace for her when she was only nine. They had found some driftwood on the beach and Ben used his new knife to carve out a little fish. Or that is what he’d said it was. It looked mostly like a stick with some knife knicks in it. But she had never told him that. When she returned home, Mr. Cogsgrove, the gardener, had helped her put a small hole in the top which she’d woven a thin ribbon through to make a necklace.

It had been more than a decade ago and she did not know if Ben even remembered that day on the beach. But surely Lord Montcort did not know of it either.

Lawks, what if Sir Andrew was closest to her trinket? Would she have to go with him? Or what about Lord Rayburton? Perhaps she could trade time with him to Lady Charlotte. She supposed it would not be terrible if her cousin, Mr. Lamb, won her trinket. He was not the best conversationalist, but he was not a dolt either. How had she thought this game a good idea? It seemed fraught with potential problems.

She gave a small shrug. There was nothing for it now. The game was afoot, and the arrows would land as they did. She could not stop it. “Yes, I think that a splendid idea. Please, go look at the target and find the one you wish to contend for.”

The men walked to the far end of the chapel and bent for a closer look.

Ben walked slowly in front of the targets, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked at the trinkets and then at Mia. Then back at the targets. Had he seen it? Did he know which one was hers? She had specifically arranged for this game because she knew it was the one time that Lord Montcort could not stop Ben from winning Mia. Not that she thought she was worth winning. The odds were not in Lord Montcort’s favor.

A smile stole over Ben’s face as he walked back to where the ladies waited, some more anxious than others.

He looked at Mia and nodded. Did that mean he recognized it? She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Never had she wanted for Ben’s aim to be more true and his memory sharp. All she could do was hope he remembered.

She plucked an old beaver off the table and held it above her head. “Gentlemen, please come and draw from the hat. The numbers will tell you your place in line.” She smiled as she caught sight of Ben from the corner of her eye. “And good luck.”

There were grunts of pleasure and displeasure, depending on which number the gentleman drew. As Ben reached in, he looked down at her and winked.

Mia’s stomach coiled like a tight spring about to snap. Or maybe it was the excitement that hummed through the crowd.

He held up his paper to reveal his number—three.

Mia’s shoulders sagged. His early number would eliminate some of the possibility that another gentleman might claim her trinket by accident or ignorance.

“Please arrange yourselves in the proper order. Once a gentleman has shot, the lady whose trinket is closest will retrieve it and bring it to the gentleman so everyone might know who remains and who does not. The gentleman will give back the trinket when they meet for their activity.”

Mr. Bancroft was the first one to shoot. Mia held her breath until the arrow sunk deep into the target. He was left in no doubt as to whose trinket it was when Miss Meecham let out a loud squeal. She hurried to the target and practically ripped the ribbon from it. Nearly running back, she thrust it at Mr. Bancroft. “It appears we have paired, Mr. Bancroft.” Her voice screeched with barely contained excitement.

To his credit, Mr. Bancroft bowed and accepted the trinket with a smile. “I greatly anticipate our walk, Miss Meecham.”

The next to shoot was Mr. Meecham. Whether his aim was true or not, Mia did not know. But the disappointed whelp from Miss Lucy Meecham made it obvious the results did not please the young lady in the least.

“I believe I’m next.” Ben strode forward and picked up the bow. He nocked his arrow and gave one last look over his shoulder at Mia. Closing one eye, he aimed.

Mia held her breath. Had he chosen the right one? She partially closed her eyes, afraid to look.

But when no excited whoop sounded, she squinted toward the target. Happiness welled up inside her, causing her hands to shake.

He’d remembered.

She flicked her gaze to Lord Montcort, wondering how he felt about the outcome.

His face was a mask, but his gaze darted between Ben and Mia. Had he known that was her trinket, or was he just unhappy that Ben had beaten him to it? Perhaps Mia was giving herself too much credit. It was possible that he wished for someone else’s trinket entirely.