Chapter 11 #2
“Not at all.” When Davies joined him at the same time Miss Tate arrived, James found himself talking with far more exuberance than necessary. “I think the four of us could have a smashing game full of excitement and sabotage.”
“Sabotage?” Miss Tate asked in alarm, her eyes wide.
Hannah took hold of her hand and squeezed. “Sir James is only teasing. Neither of us is very competitive.”
James would likely become competitive if Davies didn’t stop smiling at Hannah.
“We simply want to have some fun,” Hannah said.
“And get to know one another,” James added, hoping Davies and Miss Tate would speak more to each other than to him or Hannah. “Shall we?”
They began the game, the four of them slipping into a silence that left James itching to turn back time and choose a different activity.
Miss Tate mostly kept her eyes on the ground until it was her turn, and Davies hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he was not very good.
Hannah, on the other hand, had quite the control over her ball, and James couldn’t help but wonder if she would play to win or follow through with her hint of losing the ball in the trees.
They had played a few rounds before Hannah finally broke the silence. “Did you say you are new to Upper Lambourn, Miss Tate?”
Miss Tate, who had just started to swing her mallet, widened her eyes and missed her ball. “Oh! Er, yes, I arrived only a couple of weeks ago.”
Just in time for Mother to introduce her at a harvest ball, James thought with a grimace. “What brought you here?” he asked, though he would have preferred to remain ignorant in order to avoid the building guilt in his gut.
Miss Tate attempted a second swing, this time managing to knock her ball forward a few feet. “My mother and I came to live with my aunt and uncle,” she all but whispered.
Hannah must have sensed the same discomfort that James saw, because she turned her attention to Davies. “What of you, Mr. Davies? How long have you lived here?”
“All my life,” he said. He took his turn, then leaned on his mallet and let his gaze stray to the other guests and the various games being played.
James leaned close to Hannah and muttered, “Never been much of a conversationalist, Davies.”
“Some men talk too much,” Miss Tate said with a sniff, and embarrassment flooded through James’s chest; he thought he had spoken more quietly. “Sir James, I believe it is your turn.”
James cared little about the outcome of the game, and he hit his ball with far too much force, somehow sending it rolling in the wrong direction. “Ah.”
Snickering, Hannah lined up to take her shot. She was in a good position to pass her ball through the hoop, but her swing was wilder than normal. The mallet hit the edge of the ball, knocking it toward James’s ball.
James tried to fight his grin but couldn’t hold it back. He very much hoped she had done that intentionally so they could continue to stand close together. “I see what you meant when you said you are terrible, Miss Faircott.”
“She is not so bad,” Davies said with a roll of his eyes. “Why did you come to Upper Lambourn, Miss Faircott?”
“My mother and I came to visit a friend of hers.”
“Oh?” Davies’s question came out choked. He cleared his throat, watching Miss Tate take her shot, then spoke again. “How nice for you.”
“I would gladly turn Upper Lambourn into a more permanent home if I had the opportunity,” Hannah said, and a wistful look entered her eyes as she looked at James.
Heavens, she knew how to knock him off balance, and he adored her for it. “What sort of opportunity?” he asked, all thoughts of being cautious vanishing in the breeze.
She smiled, once again capturing James’s full focus with her stunning hazel eyes. “The right one.”
Davies’s ball rolled over James’s foot, startling him off balance in a far less pleasant way. “Sorry about that, Sir James,” Davies mumbled as his ears turned a bright red. “Your turn now.”
Unfortunately, James’s last hit had put his ball in a position that didn’t lend itself to another wild shot in the wrong direction, and he reluctantly lined up to hit toward the finishing stake.
He should have been more strategic about things.
“What about your future, Davies? Any exciting endeavors on your horizon?” Once again, he hit his ball too hard, and it soared past the place he was aiming for.
At this point, ending the game sooner than later would be the best plan of action, but he was doing a poor job of that.
“I’m content as I am,” Davies said with a shrug. “I have income enough from my land to live a modest life. The only thing I lack is a spouse to share it with. My mother is attempting to secure a match for me, but it is proving difficult to arrange an introduction to the lady.”
Hannah hit her ball so hard that her mallet flew from her hands, landing a few feet in front of her. “Oh!” she said but made no move to retrieve it. Instead of vibrant with the pretty blush from before, her cheeks looked alarmingly pale.
Dropping his mallet, James rushed to her side and cupped her elbow.
“Are you well, Miss Faircott?” Blast it all, she looked like she might faint, and James shifted his hand from her arm to the small of her back.
A few people were looking their way with interest, and surely Hannah didn’t want to become a spectacle.
“Come,” he said gently. “Let’s get you away from watching eyes for a moment. ”
Leading her toward the house, James kept a close eye on her in case she swooned, all the while hoping her moment of panic hadn’t come about because of what Davies said about an arranged match.
But he had a feeling that fate was not going to be so kind.