Chapter 11 #2
“Miss Robbins is quite right,” Lord Brookhaven said. “No crying. I suppose I must take my turn now.”
I was so relieved he was taking my win—and my jest—with such good grace. And now, as his gaze settled on me . . . it made my heart swell to bursting.
“It’s the only way to finish the game.”
“Very well, then.” He stared a moment longer, his grin turning into a crooked frown.
He took his first shot, which went short and wide. After two more, his ball went through the hoop on the fourth hit.
“Well done, Brookhaven,” Lord Markeley said, “but you were bested by myself, and especially by Miss Robbins.” With an exaggerated bow and a smirk, he acknowledged my win.
Mr. Merritt came over and tipped his hat to me. “I hope you will not be offended when I say that I was surprised that you bested me.”
“Not at all.” I did my best to hide my own smirk.
“Shall we play again?” Mr. Merritt asked the group.
Everyone seemed agreeable, so Miss Allen drew names again. This time I was first. And once again, my ball went through the hoop on the first hit.
“What is happening here?”
“How, Miss Robbins?”
“Is it your mallet?”
“Something’s not right here. No one is that lucky.”
The latter comment was made by Miss Rose Rutledge.
“Tell us your secret, Miss Robbins.” Thomas Merritt stepped toward me and leaned on his mallet. “How do you do it?”
“The secret,” I said, “is that I’ve had a lot of practice.”
Everyone was talking at once, giving their opinions, some loudly and some whispered to their neighbor.
“Well played.”
I turned to see Lord Brookhaven standing near my right shoulder. He was smiling in a congratulatory way.
“Did you know about this?” Miss Rose Rutledge demanded, staring at Lord Brookhaven.
“Know about what?” he asked, his expression bland.
Lady Rutledge scowled.
“That she was born playing pall mall and couldn’t miss?” Lord Markeley said.
“That she would show us all up?” Mr. Merritt added.
Lord Brookhaven took his time answering. “No, I did not know of Miss Robbins’s experience with playing pall mall. If I had, it wouldn’t have mattered—not to me, at least. It appears she has earned her expertise at playing the game from extensive practice.”
Both Rutledge ladies continued to look disgruntled, perhaps more so because of his coming to my defense.
“It is not as though anyone has placed any wagers on the game,” Lord Brookhaven continued.
“Speak for yourself,” Lord Markeley muttered, exchanging a look with Mr. Merritt.
After some more grumbling, I said, “If I may? To make the game harder, my friends and I added small iron stakes to the alley. We had to hit each stake once on our way to the hoop. For example, if we put a zigzag of three stakes on the alley, we would have to hit the ball so that it touched each stake once, and then get it through the hoop. And if you like, everyone else could just get their ball through the hoop without having to touch the stakes.”
“That seems fair,” Rose Rutledge said.
“I will do what Miss Robbins does,” Mr. Merritt said. “I will hit the stakes and take my ball through the hoop.”
“I will as well,” Lord Markeley said, then murmured, “though I know it is folly to play pall mall with Miss Robbins.”
Lord Brookhaven sent a servant to fetch three iron stakes, then said, “Everyone may do as they wish. When it is your turn, you must announce whether you plan to hit the stakes or whether you simply wish to hit your ball through the hoop.”
It was a livelier game after that. Lord Brookhaven looked as if he was enjoying it.
Out of the next three games, I won two quite easily and tied the third with Mr. Merritt. I was able to observe Lord Brookhaven’s good-natured way of playing, as well as Miss Rutledge’s petulance.
Mr. Merritt and Lord Markeley were quite competitive and enjoyed wagering over the outcome of each game, and Millicent seemed in awe of the liveliness of the gentlemen. And I enjoyed myself immensely.
We decided to pause our playing and have tea.
As we were walking, I ended up a bit isolated from the others as we passed through the hedge.
Then I saw Miss Rose Rutledge draw near, as if she’d been waiting for me.
She said in a hushed voice, “I don’t know what you aim to achieve from this little game, but you will not get your claws into Lord Brookhaven. He would never marry a servant.”
She said the last word with a sneering twist of her lips.
I stared at her, too surprised to think of a retort.
Her face changed as she seemed to catch sight of someone, and she called out, “Lord Brookhaven.”
He was rather close behind me. Had he heard what she’d said about him never marrying a servant? I couldn’t tell from the impassive look on his face.
“Miss Rutledge,” he said cooly, then addressed me. “Do you think Samuel and Annabelle would enjoy this game?”
“Oh yes. I wanted to ask if we could leave the alley set up as it is so that I can teach them to play.” My words were a bit halting, as I was still recovering from the shock of Miss Rutledge’s words.
Was she truly worried that Lord Brookhaven might want to marry me?
That I was scheming to make him propose marriage?
There was a pain in my chest that I’d better not examine just now, right here.
He was gazing into my eyes, and the thought occurred to me that Rose Rutledge was jealous—jealous of me and the attention Lord Brookhaven paid to me.
It was such a strange thought, but once again, I couldn’t examine my feelings just now, as I was completely captured by his gaze. There was such a serious expression on his face. What was he thinking?
The rest of the day and evening, Rose Rutledge seemed to hover around Lord Brookhaven, while his mood was quiet and his expression morose.
William paced around his room after all his guests had retired to bed.
He wished he’d never invited Rose Rutledge to his house party. How dare she speak to Charlotte Robbins that way?
But it was evidence of two things: one, that he had allowed his feelings for Charlotte to show more than he’d intended; and two, that his plan to try to get his friends to accept Charlotte Robbins into their social circle was not working as well as he might have liked.
Even Merritt and Markeley were beginning to notice his attitude toward Miss Robbins was more as an admirer than employer.
They’d mentioned it to him the night before.
“You know you can’t marry her,” Markeley had said as he and Merritt caught him in the hallway near their rooms.
“If you wish to set her up in her own place, no one will judge you, as long as you’re discreet.” Merritt said the words quietly.
“So you wish me to ruin her while saving my reputation?”
“Ruin her?” Markeley sneered. “She’s a governess.”
William thought about punching him in the face. “You must think me a selfish heathen who cares about no one but himself.”
“What do you mean?” Markeley said, looking truly confused. “Miss Robbins could hardly get a better offer. She’d never have to work another day, and you’d provide well for her, I’m sure.”
Again, the thought of punching him was very appealing, but William knew the man was only speaking as a selfish, privileged young gentleman of the ton, unused to thinking of the welfare and the feelings of others.
And both Merritt’s and Markeley’s spiritual state was much worse than he’d imagined, that they could be so off-hand about leading an innocent woman into a life of degradation and sin.
“Send her away, then,” Merritt said. “But don’t throw yourself away on her. Even now you could have Miss Rose Rutledge for fifty thousand pounds. Or many other young ladies of even higher social standing.”
He turned his face in the opposite direction, taking a moment to calm himself. When he was confident he could speak in a cool, collected manner, he said, “So you think her unworthy of marriage to a gentleman?”
They both stared at him for a moment. Finally, Merritt said, “That is not the issue.”
Markeley added, “You’re not making sense.”
“The issue is not her worthiness as a wife but your worthiness as an earl. You should be marrying the daughter of an earl, or at least the daughter of someone . . .” Merritt seemed to be searching for the right word. “Someone with an old name and a fortune.”
“At least one or the other,” Markeley added.
He could try to explain to them that he wanted someone who was worthy due to their good character.
Or he could tell them that he wanted to make certain he didn’t end up married to someone like his mother—or his father.
But they’d never understand. To them, marriage was similar to winning the best prize in a contest, and neither the prize nor the contest had anything to do with the person’s character or temperament.
“So if it was discovered that she had an old name or a fortune . . . ?”
“Since she was a governess, she’d need both to be accepted,” Merritt said.
“A large fortune, though . . . that’s probably all she needs to make her respectable.” Markeley raised his brows. “But there isn’t much chance of that, since she’s an orphan.”
“You’re not going to do anything impulsive, are you?” Merritt gave him a worried look. “I remember you liked to defend the weaker boys in school. It never got you anything but a bloody nose.”
“Just find her a place in town,” Markeley drawled. “Put her up, give her a little money, and enjoy life a little before you have to get married and produce an heir.”
William’s face was growing quite warm. He glared at Markeley.
“That I will not do. And Miss Robbins would never . . . never let anyone treat her that way. You don’t know her, obviously.
She has self-respect, and she believes in right and wrong.
She’s not like you, not like the wealthy and privileged who take whatever they want. ”
“Easy, now,” Merritt said. “You’re ‘the wealthy and privileged’ too.”
“Don’t go getting crusty,” Markeley said.