Chapter 22 #3
Afterward, as the two men walked from the stables toward the house, they came upon Miss Blake and Kate playing battledore and shuttlecock in the garden. Sophie, he noticed, sat nearby on a garden bench, a large-brimmed bonnet shielding her face.
It was the first he’d seen of their neighbor since arriving home. He inwardly groaned. And in Sophie’s company yet. He hoped Angela would behave herself and play fair.
Kate glanced up. “There’s Wesley. He’ll play.”
Miss Blake turned her ginger head in his direction, her green eyes watchful and wary as he approached.
They had known one another so long, he could read every expression on her long, freckled face, every quirk of her mouth with its heavily bowed upper lip.
It saddened him that they’d lost their former camaraderie and knew he was partly to blame.
But there was nothing he could do about it now.
“Ah . . . the prodigal son returns,” she said with a little smirk. “Hello, Wesley.”
“Angela.” He acknowledged her with a dip of his head, determined to be polite.
Kate bent to pick up two spare racquets and thrust one toward him. “Do say you’ll play, Wesley.”
“How about a game of doubles?” Miss Blake suggested.
Kate regarded Mr. Keith and bit her lip. “That is . . . if you think you can—might want to play?”
Keith grinned. “Thank you, Miss Katherine. I believe I am equal to the task.” He accepted the second racquet and looked at Miss Blake. “Shall we join forces, Miss Blake? Though I suppose you’d rather have Wesley as your partner . . .”
“Not at all, Mr. Keith. I have seen Wesley play.”
Wesley gave her a sour smile. “Be forewarned, Keith. Angela’s a crack shot and will knock you down to reach the shuttlecock before you.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
Wesley wondered how the man would serve with one hand, but he needn’t have worried.
Keith gripped the handle with three fingers, and pinched the shuttlecock feathers between index finger and thumb.
He released the shuttlecock with a little loft, repositioned his hand fully around the racquet and whacked the shuttlecock in a high arc to Kate.
“Well done, Mr. Keith,” Miss Blake praised.
Kate swung hard, sending the shuttlecock high. Too high. The wind caught it and carried it behind her. “Sorry!”
While Kate hurried off to retrieve it, Wesley asked Miss Blake, “How’s the family?”
“Oh, Father is his usual absent self. And if you have not heard, Horace is engaged to be married.”
“Horsey . . . engaged? He can’t be, what, eighteen or nineteen . . . ?
“One and twenty.”
“Good night. I feel quite ancient.”
Kate returned and prepared to serve. Miss Blake adopted a ready stance, bouncing lightly from foot to foot. She looked just as she had when she was twelve years old.
He asked her, “Who’s the lucky girl? Would I know her?”
“Probably, knowing you.” She returned Kate’s serve with a hard smack that bulleted the shuttlecock right at Wesley’s face.
Wesley leapt back to get his racquet under it, but the feathers fell to the ground.
Kate said, “I don’t think Wesley ever met the Fullerton family. Horace met them when they were here on Boxing Day, but Wesley had already left for Devonshire.”
“Yes, it seems Wesley is always leaving.”
“Not always.” He served again, hoping Sophie wasn’t listening to their exchange.
The shuttlecock flew, and Keith ran forward and tapped it lightly to Kate. She hit it back, hard, and Keith had to quickly run backward. Wesley thought he might miss it, but the man had an impressive wingspan—even if only one wing. He reached back, back, and whacked it high overhead.
“Excellent arm, Mr. Keith,” said Angela approvingly.
“Why, thank you, fair lady.”
Miss Blake addressed Wesley across from her once again. “And how long are we to have the pleasure of your company this time?”
“I have not yet decided.” He tapped the shuttlecock, then glanced at Sophie. When he returned his gaze to Angela, he was chagrined to realize she had noticed the look.
Angela stepped backward, raised her racquet, and . . . missed. She never missed.
“Sorry.” She gave her partner an embarrassed half smile.
“No problem,” Mr. Keith assured her.
Angela picked up the fallen shuttlecock and served to Wesley again. “And were you as surprised as the rest of us to meet Stephen’s wife?”
“More so, I imagine.”
Kate spoke up. “And here I thought both my brothers were confirmed old bachelors.”
“Speaking of which, any word from Stephen?” Angela turned toward spectator-Sophie as she said it.
“Not lately,” Sophie replied.
Angela added kindly, “We all pray for a quick end to this renewed threat, and his safe return.”
Sophie nodded. “Thank you.”
Miss Blake sent Wesley a sidelong glance. “We do all pray for Stephen’s safe return, do we not?”
“Hmm?” Wesley murmured, taken aback. He noticed Keith and Sophie both watching them, and said, “Oh, yes, of course.”
Unfortunately, Angela could read him as accurately as he could read her. He hoped her good breeding would guard her tongue.