Chapter 22
All seemed bright in the hazy glow of summer daylight. The crowd had thinned after the previous night’s ball, and an air of normalcy had returned to the manor that Selina was beginning to think of as home.
Whatever had been bothering Philip seemed to have been remedied. He had smiled at her across the breakfast table, and at present, he was discreetly resting his hand on the small of her back as a cheerful group stood on the edge of the lawn.
“What on earth is my grandmother up to?” he murmured, his eyebrow raised.
The Dowager Duchess stood in the center of the lawn, one hand on her cane, the other gesturing at strange little cones that had been arranged across the grass. Selina had spotted the servants putting them there earlier, though she did not know their purpose.
“I think she is worried the guests might get bored,” she murmured back.
“Good. Let them be bored. Then, they might return to their homes.”
Selina chuckled. “It will not be for much longer.”
“And I am glad of it,” Philip replied. Then, he lowered his voice to add, “I thought of coming to your rooms last night, but the idea of being seen by any of these people prevented me. I have had more than enough of their presence.”
A flush warmed Selina’s face, her heart skipping a few beats at the thought of him coming to her chamber door. Of course, it was entirely inappropriate before the wedding, but so was what he had done to her in the walled gardens… and she did not regret a moment of that.
“Before luncheon, I thought we could all play a diverting game of cones!” the Dowager Duchess announced.
“The rules are so simple that even I can play it. There are two cones and two players per pair. The idea is to roll your ball as close as possible to your opponent’s cone. The closest, naturally, is the winner.”
A few groans rose from the group.
“Enough of that!” the Dowager Duchess chided. “You shall realize the merit of it soon enough. Now, get into pairs and begin!”
Like diligent grandchildren, the remaining guests partnered up and found themselves a pair of cones.
Selina would have liked to play with Philip, to stay close to him for a while, but Melody had other ideas.
“You must play with me, Selina,” she urged. “This may well be your game.”
Philip gave Selina a gentle push and, with a wink, strolled off in search of his friend, Zachary Langton, the Duke of Ironcrest. She had not had the opportunity to speak to him much, though perhaps that was by design. After all, no one knew more about a person than their closest friend.
“Do you want to go first?” Melody asked as they found themselves a free pair of cones.
Selina stooped to pick up a ball. “Perhaps you should go first, so I can have a word with the memory in my muscles. I do not want to make the same mistake as last night. Then again, this game is about getting as close as possible, not getting anything over the cone, so perhaps I will triumph.”
“Oh, excellent,” Melody said, grinning. “I was hoping you would say that.”
She stood by her cone, and squinting at Selina’s, she propelled her arm forward. The ball bounced along the grass in tiny leaps, stopping a good two paces from the opposite cone.
Buoyed by the idea that she might actually win, Selina took her turn. She glanced back and forth between the cones as if she knew what she was doing, and then, with a little thrill of excitement, she released her heavy ball.
It skimmed across the grass, cutting a rather excellent path toward its target. A smooth throw, indeed.
She almost screamed with delight as the ball bumped into the cone.
“I did it!” She clapped her hands together.
Melody smiled. “You did, indeed.” She paused. “Do we only throw once, or is it best of three?”
Other pairs seemed to be extending the game, going back for their balls and starting again.
With the hope of greater triumph puffing out her chest, Selina, too, went to fetch her ball. “Let us say best of three.”
Melody nodded. “A fine idea. Now that I know what to do, I may be better next time.”
Two throws later, and Selina was aglow with glee. She had hit the cone every time, while Melody had not gotten close at all. Of course, she could not be an arrogant winner, so she made sure to congratulate her friend for her effort.
“An excellent match,” she declared, the two women laughing as they shook hands.
“An excellent match,” Melody seconded, suddenly nervous as she glanced around. “But who shall I play with next?”
“My partner is in need of a new partner,” the Marquess of Ramsbury’s familiar, friendly voice chimed in. “And I would not mind playing a game with you, Lady Selina, if you are not averse?”
Melody relaxed. “Thank you, Lord Ramsbury.”
She wandered off to the next set of cones, while the Marquess came to stand with Selina for a moment. After all, she still had not said whether or not she was averse to the idea.
I have no reason to be, do I? No, it will be a good thing to play a match with him. A show of accord.
“Would you like to throw first?” Selina asked.
The Marquess shook his head. “Ladies first. Always.”
“That is very kind of you.”
Selina took her position. Still bolstered by her previous triumph, she threw her ball with confidence… and cringed as it rolled right past the cone. The gleam of it seemed to mock her.
“A fine attempt,” the Marquess said, smiling at her. “Now, let me see what I can do.”
He rolled the ball with an expert arm, bending slightly at the knees, his back curved. The ball practically glided through the short grass, the faint knock of it hitting the cone sounding far louder than it could have been. It was a knock to Selina’s pride, too.
“Again, Lady Selina?” the Marquess asked, not gloating at all.
More determined than ever, Selina agreed and fetched her ball.
However, it seemed that her winning streak was over, as her next two throws missed the cone entirely. The Marquess had no such bad luck, hitting the cone each time. Indeed, if he had not been so precise, he might have won by more, for the ball would not have bounced back from the cone.
“I really think that, on occasions such as this, one is supposed to let the bride win,” Selina said with a wry chuckle, taking her loss well.
The Marquess smiled. “Ah, well, I am afraid I am an exception to that rule. For me, I may not have won the bride, but I defeated her.”
Selina laughed at the jest, glad that he, too, was taking his loss in good spirits. A few others playing nearby joined in with the amusement, their laughter drifting across the lawn.
Turning to see if Philip had heard, she blinked in surprise when she found him scowling in her direction.
“You are the one marrying her, Philip. You cannot possibly be jealous,” Zachary teased as he lined up his ball.
Philip snapped his attention away from Selina, who was laughing so giddily in the Marquess’s company. “Who said I was jealous?”
“Your face. Your sour glare.” Zachary laughed and threw the ball, which glanced off the side of the cone. “What threat is the Marquess of Ramsbury to you?”
“That is nonsense. I am not jealous at all.”
Zachary quirked an eyebrow. “She is allowed to laugh with other people, Philip. If you deny her that, you will not have a very happy marriage.”
“It is not laughter with other people that irks me,” Philip protested. “It is the way the Marquess keeps staring at her when she is not looking. I do not think she is aware at all.”
“She is a beautiful woman, and her joy at the thought of marrying you has made her even more beautiful. Of course, gentlemen are going to stare. Plenty of them were staring last night, but I did not see you scowling.”
“I was in her company then,” Philip replied. “Gentlemen were not saying whatever they liked to her.”
Zachary chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “I think you need to take a deep breath and calm yourself. You have her; he does not.”
“No, I know exactly what I need to do,” Philip replied, casually tossing his ball toward Zachary’s cone.
It rolled right up to it, flush against it. A winning roll.
But Philip paid it no heed as he wandered over to where Selina was playing and subtly passed behind her, whispering, “Meet me in my study in ten minutes.”
He didn’t wait to see her expression or hear her reply. Instead, he circled back to his cones and stood patiently as Zachary released his next throw, acting as if he had not said anything at all.
Five minutes later, he made his excuses to Zachary and meandered back to the manor, taking his time so as not to draw any unwelcome attention.
Was I not clear enough? Did she mishear me?
Philip drummed his fingertips in agitation on the edge of his desk as his eyes darted to the carriage clock for the thousandth time. He had been counting the minutes until Selina was supposed to arrive, and that time had been up a minute ago.
Should he stay and hope she would turn up? Should he go back outside and repeat the sentiment?
He pushed off the desk, agitated, and paced back and forth in front of the fireplace.
He was about to give up when he heard footsteps. Not coming from the hallway outside, but tapping across the terrace that lay just beyond his study. French doors opened out onto the outside world, and just then, Selina’s face appeared behind the glass.
She pushed the door open and slipped inside, hastily drawing the drapes shut.
“What is going on?” she asked, frowning. “I realize we are soon going to be wed, but we still should not be seen without a chaperone while there are guests here. They will spread all sorts of sordid gossip about us.”
“Then we had better give them something truly incendiary to say,” he said with some relief, though he didn’t approach her.
She tilted her head, searching his face. “What’s wrong? Why do you look cross?”
“I did not care for the way your ex-fiancé was talking to you in such a familiar fashion,” he admitted. “I do not want anyone thinking that there is still an attachment between you.”
A bark of laughter left Selina’s lips. “There was never an attachment between us in the first place. That was part of the problem. I barely knew him at all.” Her eyes narrowed, amusement creasing the corners. “You were not… jealous, were you?”
“You were upset about the maid,” he pointed out. “Do I not have the right to be annoyed by your ex-fiancé?”
Selina smiled from ear to ear. “You were jealous.”
“Not in the slightest,” he said, prowling toward her, closing the gap at last, his hands reaching for her waist to pull her against him. “I just wanted to remind you who actually won you.”