Chapter Twelve #2
“Get her, Miss Pine! You can take her, I know you can,” Miss Raught returns.
“Miss Pine’s got nothing on Rosalie; we’re going to win,” Miss Linet argues.
Catherine and Lady Rosalie exchange a heated series of volleys, gasping and panting and making more noise than they should,
but it’s fun. The four of them shouting and making a ruckus is delightful. And Lady Rosalie is just so . . . glorious.
After five more minutes, Catherine is sweating and suddenly aware that they’ve attracted a crowd. She can hear the gentlemen
chiming in with Miss Raught’s and Miss Linet’s increasingly competitive calls.
They should stop. Should act ladylike. Shouldn’t exert themselves or be so loud and boisterous. But damn if she’s going to let the boys prevent her from beating Lady Rosalie.
Lady Rosalie, whose eyes are alight, brows down, jaw set, parrying back and forth with Catherine as if the glory of England
might hang in the balance.
“Come on!” Miss Raught yells.
And Catherine finally manages to get the birdie past Lady Rosalie, sending it sailing so far over her head, it hits the hedge
and bounces to the ground.
“Ha-hah!” Catherine exclaims, jumping up and down.
Miss Raught nearly tackles her in a hug, shrieking in glee. It’s only two points total, but it must have taken fifteen minutes.
Catherine holds on to Miss Raught’s arm, beaming and sweaty and victorious.
“Ugh!” Lady Rosalie shouts, throwing her racket toward the hedge.
There’s a brief silence where Miss Raught, Miss Linet, Catherine, and all of the surrounding men stare at Lady Rosalie. Lady
Rosalie looks across at Catherine, scowling.
It starts slowly, the joy and amusement and sheer wonder of seeing Lady Rosalie so discomposed making her laugh. And then
Lady Rosalie’s lips twitch, and Catherine loses it altogether, until they’re both laughing, Miss Raught and Miss Linet joining
in.
Lady Rosalie wipes at her eyes and walks over, extending her hand to Catherine. Miss Raught lets her go so Catherine can take
her palm in a sportsmanlike shake, even though they’re both still teary with laughter.
Catherine knows the whole party is watching them—can practically feel her mother’s glare from the patio where all the mothers have gathered—but it all falls away the moment their hands meet.
The touch of Lady Rosalie’s palm feels like lightning shooting up Catherine’s arm, tingling. She never wants to let go.
“You are, in fact, a worthy opponent,” Lady Rosalie says.
Catherine can’t help but snort while laughter titters around them. “Glad to have lived up to such low expectations.”
“Oh, I had high hopes. You . . . have exceeded them,” Lady Rosalie says. Her palm squeezes Catherine’s, softly, almost like
a caress.
Catherine swallows, her throat tight. She knows—she knows—Lady Rosalie doesn’t mean anything by it. Knows that she’s not speaking some kind of code. But it doesn’t stop Catherine’s
treacherous stomach from clenching.
Do they have the same expectations?
Lady Rosalie’s brother, Mr. Tisend, pushes through the crowd of onlookers, and they hastily drop their hands. His entrance
seems to disperse the rest of the gentlemen, which pulls Miss Raught and Miss Linet into other conversations, leaving Catherine,
Lady Rosalie, and Mr. Tisend alone on the battledore court.
Catherine clenches her fist, trying not to think too hard about how Lady Rosalie’s touch might feel all over her body.
“Finally, a worthy competitor to join my battledore team,” Mr. Tisend says gleefully. “Excellent show, Miss Pine.”
“Thank you,” Catherine says, proud that her voice doesn’t crack.
Lady Rosalie’s still staring at her, as if their hands touching might have affected her just as much as it did Catherine.
Which is thrilling, and complicated.
“We’ll need to stage a game expediently. I’ve been dying to beat her for years.”
Catherine looks over to meet his excited smile. “I’d be delighted. It’ll give Lady Rosalie a chance to reclaim her title.”
“Gladly,” Lady Rosalie says, bringing Catherine’s gaze back to her narrowed eyes. Good lord, that look sends almost as many
tingles over Catherine’s body as her touch did. What’s happening to her?
“But first, some refreshment,” Lady Rosalie says. “And then we might entice Mr. Dean to fill out the court?”
Catherine reluctantly looks over at Mr. Dean. He doesn’t so much as glance their way, too busy talking with Mr. Fortes and
Mr. Sholle. Mr. Sholle notices her looking and Catherine turns back to Lady Rosalie, whose eagerness has dimmed.
She doesn’t like that Mr. Dean has that much power to influence the mood of someone like Lady Rosalie. “We’ll rematch at the
next event. If Mr. Tisend can wait that long to give you a thorough trouncing.”
“I’ve been plotting my victory against my dearest sister for years. It can wait another few weeks. However, the crab puffs
won’t. We should get over there before Mr. Rile eats them all.”
And suddenly he has both Catherine and Lady Rosalie by their elbows, dragging them across the lawn to grab plates of hors
d’oeuvres.
Miss Raught and Mr. Rile are chatting by the canapés. Catherine glances back at Miss Linet and finds her wandering toward
the tea tables with another gentleman Catherine doesn’t know. Mr. Fortes is still talking with Mr. Dean and Mr. Sholle. Perhaps
she’s given up on him, then. For the best, really; he seems as inattentive as Mr. Dean.
It’s good to see both Miss Linet and Miss Raught smiling, getting well-deserved attention. Though Catherine wishes they were still playing battledore, all the gentlemen be damned.
“Between your athletic prowess, your artistry, and your musical aptitude, you two may be the most impressive ladies in all
of Bath,” Mr. Tisend says, hurrying to pull out both of their chairs as they settle at one of the white-linen-covered tea
tables.
“You’re laying it on too thick,” Lady Rosalie says, swatting him away until he plops into the chair between them.
Catherine wishes she and Lady Rosalie were side by side, and is grateful at the same time that they aren’t.
“I just didn’t think we’d meet another lady as talented at athletics as you are,” he says to Lady Rosalie.
“I simply had a good opponent,” Catherine says, watching Lady Rosalie blush.
“Oh, please. I bet you’re that competitive with everyone,” Lady Rosalie says, passing her a strawberry macaron.
They’re her favorite. How did she know?
Catherine takes it, shaking her head. “It’s always been a problem with my brother. Embarrassed our parents with our shouting
at more than one company picnic.”
“Oh, I’d like to meet your brother,” Mr. Tisend says. “Perhaps that’s the true match to be had.”
“He’d like you,” Catherine says, glancing at Mr. Tisend. “And you as well, Lady Rosalie.”
Lady Rosalie’s smile is suddenly soft and Catherine feels heat climbing up her neck. She does think her brother would like
her. He might not understand how much Catherine likes her, but still. She wants them to meet.
She passes her cucumber sandwich over to Lady Rosalie to push the strange, warm feeling out of her chest. But that just makes Lady Rosalie smile more. Catherine’s noticed she favors them, is all.
“Oh, please do join us.”
Catherine looks up to find Mr. Dean standing beside Lady Rosalie. And only Mr. Tisend noticed. Whoops.
Mr. Dean sits down on Lady Rosalie’s other side. The air at the table changes immediately. Lady Rosalie sits up a bit straighter
and Catherine forces herself to sit back, so she and Lady Rosalie aren’t leaning around Mr. Tisend anymore.
It’s quiet for a minute, neither of them coming up with anything to say, even though they should both be trying to engage
him in conversation.
“We were just saying we’ll need to have a rematch between Lady Rosalie and Miss Pine,” Mr. Tisend says. “Perhaps we could
play next weekend. Lady Rosalie and I have been planning a trip to Blaise Castle. I’d be delighted to accompany you, Miss Pine,
if Mr. Dean will accompany my sister?”
Catherine blinks down at him. His eyes are twinkling. She glances at Lady Rosalie, who doesn’t look the least bit surprised
by the invitation.
“I’d be most pleased,” Mr. Dean says. “I can arrange for my aunt to join us as chaperone, if you’d like.”
“Our aunt would like to come,” Lady Rosalie says, her voice perfectly calm.
“How wonderful. I’d love to discuss art with her,” Mr. Dean says.
Catherine notices Mr. Tisend wince and has to bite her lip against a laugh.
“Miss Pine?” Mr. Tisend asks.
Catherine glances over her shoulder at the patio, where Mother is watching them, frowning.
“I actually got a chance to ask your father this morning at the baths, but haven’t had a moment to ask your mother,” Mr. Tisend
adds.
“And my father said yes?” Catherine asks, pulling her gaze away from her mother’s clear disapproval.
“He did,” Mr. Tisend says brightly.
Catherine should interrogate why he asked her father about an outing before her. Why Lady Rosalie never mentioned anything.
Why her father didn’t mention anything before she and Mother left for the tea.
“It would be an overnight. Our aunt knows the current owner of Blaise Castle, who has invited us for dinner on Saturday. We’d
travel early Saturday, see the castle, have dinner, and return in the afternoon on Sunday, if that suits?”
It’s exactly the kind of outing Mother doesn’t want—Lady Rosalie and Catherine “competing” directly for Mr. Dean’s attention,
with only Mr. Tisend and Lady Jones there for comparison. But it would be rude to refuse the invitation. A missed opportunity to spend that much time alone with Mr. Dean. How could she possibly say no?
And on top of it, an invitation from Mr. Tisend, who has already spoken with her father? Were he anyone else, Mother would
be dumping Mr. Dean for the son of an earl.
Not that either of them would truly be winning. Catherine thinks marrying Mr. Tisend would be like flaying herself alive forever,
forced to marry the wrong Tisend sibling.
Not that she wants to marry Lady Rosalie.
All the heated looks in the world don’t mean that Lady Rosalie wants what Catherine wants. But at least with this trip she could know for sure.
“Would you like to accompany us?”
Catherine swallows, embarrassed for getting so caught up in her head, and with such thoughts. “I’d be delighted,” she says,
smiling as wide as she can.
“Excellent!” Mr. Tisend says, grinning at her, and then turning to grin at his sister.
“I wonder if the current owner might give us a tour of the woods. I’ve been meaning to organize another hunting party and
it would provide a good change of scene,” Mr. Dean says, pulling Mr. Tisend into conversation around Lady Rosalie.
Lady Rosalie leans back and Catherine mirrors her without a second thought, so they can see each other around Mr. Tisend’s
back. Lady Rosalie smiles and takes a bite of her sandwich.
The following weekend now seems ages away. Catherine needs to know what Lady Rosalie is thinking. Whether her smirks and smoldering
looks mean what Catherine wants them to, what Catherine hopes they do.
She notices Mr. Tisend nudging Lady Rosalie. Lady Rosalie swallows and Catherine’s momentarily distracted by the bob of her
throat. Why is that so . . . alluring?
“I need to pick up my new traveling cloak for the trip, and imagine you might need some accessories as well,” Lady Rosalie
says before Catherine can gather herself. “Would you like to go to the shops on Tuesday?”
“I would,” Catherine hears herself say.
Lady Rosalie nods and Mr. Tisend nudges her again.
Catherine watches her nudge back, her lips tilting up.
Something rises in Catherine’s chest that feels suspiciously like unfounded hope.
Catherine doesn’t know what they’re about, but they’ve orchestrated the picture-perfect outing.
Just the four of them, and the mischievous Lady Jones.
Catherine and Lady Rosalie might find all kinds of reasons to be alone. Especially if Mr. Tisend can keep Mr. Dean talking
like they are now—like she and Lady Rosalie aren’t even there.
This is going to be something, isn’t it?