Chapter 13
Thirteen
Mateo heads back inside, Malcolm wiggling his eyebrows at me suggestively behind Mateo’s back before gesturing for me to go ahead of him.
I bashfully follow Mateo through the door, parting the crowd of guests partying in the hallway until we step into the drawing room.
It’s a vast space with tall windows and patterned floral wallpaper, gold chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, and a statement fireplace at one end with mismatched furniture including a soft pastel-green sofa, two red velvet armchairs and a pink chaise longue.
In the middle of the room stand Ambrose, now holding a cigar in one hand, and Lady Maycourt, also holding a cigar, both flanked by their teams and their teams’ entourages.
Clara is perched on the arm of the sofa, the other High Fives gathered behind her like they’re posing for a portrait with their matriarch, and the DQ team have brought along their groupies, too: a mixture of men and women in designer suits and dresses, Cartier watches on their wrists, the diamonds embedded in their jewellery glinting in the dimmed light of the chandeliers.
The scene looks at once surreal and spectacular.
‘This is like a posh English version of West Side Story,’ I whisper to no one.
‘I say we settle this outside right now!’ Fitz is saying, getting in Basilio’s face, who smirks with his teammates while Eric grabs a fistful of Fitz’s shirt and yanks him back.
‘Your team is as big an embarrassment off the field as it is on it,’ Ambrose says drily to Lady Maycourt. ‘Why don’t you control your nephew before he hurts himself?’
‘Fitz, calm down,’ she snaps, turning back to her fellow patron. ‘It was you and your team who insulted me first, Ambrose, and the boy is fiercely loyal. Can’t fault him for that. You wouldn’t know much about loyalty, though, would you?’
Ambrose looks bored. ‘If you’re referring to Claire, I can assure you that she was perfectly aware of what was going on, no matter what she might say for the courts.’
‘I was talking about your business and polo endeavours, not your third wife, Ambrose,’ Lady Maycourt mutters, scowling at him. ‘For goodness sake, I wouldn’t stoop so low as to make this personal.’
‘Oh please,’ he spits. ‘You can act all high and mighty, above it all with your British title, but I know the real you, and I know there’s nothing you wouldn’t do when it comes to winning. Shame it’s all for nothing. Maycourt is a joke this season.’
‘Oi!’ Fitz roars, before Eric tells him to pipe down.
‘It’s not worth it,’ Eric adds. ‘We’ll beat them at Cowdray.’
Lady Maycourt smiles fondly at Eric, pointing her cigar in his direction as she says to Ambrose, ‘Now that’s what I call class.’
‘Class? You lot?’ One of the DQ players with bloodshot eyes and a red wine stain on his shirt snorts with laughter. ‘Maycourt is scraping the barrel so low, you guys hired a fashion model with no idea about ponies to work for you.’
‘Hey,’ I say, putting my hands on my hips and causing all eyes in the room to turn towards us, having been oblivious to our presence before. ‘I wasn’t a model.’
Two of the women on the DQ side of the invisible line through the room snicker behind their hands. I realise it would have been better if I hadn’t bothered correcting him.
‘Ash is testament to my yard’s brilliance,’ Lady Maycourt declares, saving me as she regains the room. ‘Thanks to my team’s tutelage, she is becoming as good a groom as anyone working in the stables, and, according to reports, a bloody good rider, too.’
I glance at Mateo, but he’s too busy glowering at Basilio to notice.
‘Safe to say she’ll be one of the best grooms in the business when the season’s over,’ Lady Maycourt continues loftily.
‘Oh yes,’ the wine-stained DQ teammate says, his eyes trailing down my dress and back up again, ‘we all know from her previous job how good she is at making her way to the top.’
Mateo, who has remained silent and still up until now, bursts into life, striding up to him so fast, it causes him to stumble backwards, growling, ‘What did you say?’ in his face.
‘I… um,’ the wine-stained man stammers, leaning on an antique writing desk for balance.
Basilio steps in front of his teammate, blocking Mateo.
‘You’d better step back,’ Mateo warns in a low, venomous tone.
‘Or what?’ Basilio challenges. ‘What will you do, Mateo?’
‘Calm down, boys,’ Lady Maycourt orders in a weary manner. ‘You’re meant to be gentlemen, so start behaving like it. Save the fury for the polo field. Mateo. Para!’
His eyes blazing and fists clenched, Mateo reluctantly draws back from Basilio and I feel like the whole room breathes a sigh of relief.
I’m staring at Mateo in awe, my heart hammering as he moves to stand to the side of the room on his own, folding his arms across his chest. He refuses to look at me and I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.
‘How gallant,’ Ambrose remarks.
‘We look after our own,’ Lady Maycourt states simply.
‘You have to, considering what you go through. My God, I’d need a dedicated support group if I suffered the amount of losses on the pitch that you do, Eliza!
’ Ambrose hoots with laughter, his team laughing behind him while the Maycourt team glare at them.
‘You can never quite find the right combination. Something just won’t click for you, will it? ’
I don’t know why I suddenly feel the urge to defend this team.
Maybe it’s because Lady Maycourt looks stung by that last comment, as though Ambrose has touched a nerve, and she’s been so good to me.
Maybe it’s because I’ve genuinely grown to love the Maycourt yard and the ponies and the way of life there.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been bullied and harassed online by cowards on keyboards and I won’t let it happen in person.
Maybe it’s because, moments ago, Mateo was willing to punch that DQ guy to a pulp in the name of defending my honour. Or maybe it’s the champagne.
Either way, I’m jumping in.
‘The only reason you’re talking like this is because you’re scared,’ I accuse loudly, inviting everyone’s eyes back on me.
This time, I’m prepared to be in the spotlight, though.
Ambrose balks at the idea. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘If you weren’t threatened by Maycourt, you wouldn’t bother to engage in whatever this is,’ I explain, gesturing to the two teams. ‘The reason you’re giving it any time at all must be that deep down, you’re scared that our team is a serious threat this year.
I can understand why. Maycourt has better ponies, better players, and,’ I shoot him a smile, ‘better grooms.’
My little speech causes a stir. I hear Jules tittering behind the others somewhere. Lady Maycourt lifts her chin with pride. Even Basilio can’t stop a smile, despite which side he’s on. I’m too nervous to look at Mateo, so I don’t know how he’s reacting.
Ambrose is too stunned to speak at first but then he forces a laugh, pointing his cigar in my direction.
‘I like her,’ he tells Lady Maycourt. ‘Look, Ashley, I applaud your attempt at insight, but you’re hardly a polo expert.
If I want to know which team is or isn’t a threat to mine, I’ll ask a DQ groom, thank you.
They tend to know what they’re talking about, having played polo themselves. ’
‘That means nothing,’ Fitz cries, leaning on the mantlepiece. ‘With my help, I bet Ash would be twice as good at polo as any of your lot.’
I wince at his slurred sentences and casual arrogance, but I’m grateful for his confidence in me, even if he’s too drunk to know what he’s talking about.
‘That so?’ Ambrose brightens. ‘Why don’t we put that to the test?’
Lady Maycourt narrows her eyes at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘We can have some fun here! How about a charity match? The DQ grooms versus the Maycourt grooms.’ Ambrose claps his hands, making me jump.
‘What a brilliant idea! We can raise some money for a good cause I’ll let you pick, Eliza, as a courtesy, on the grounds that it has an equestrian theme – and put on a match that will prove DQ is not only superior on the main stage but behind the scenes too.
Superior in every way: players, ponies, stables, grooms… and patrons.’
A chorus of gasps ripples through the audience.
‘A grooms’ polo match,’ Lady Maycourt says slowly. ‘The DQ grooms versus the Maycourt grooms.’
‘That’s right.’ He points his cigar at me again. ‘She has to be on the team, since this all stemmed from her claim to be as good at polo as any of my grooms—’
‘I didn’t actually claim that,’ I cut in as this spirals out of control.
‘And, to make things fair, you have my word that the least experienced DQ groom will be selected for our team,’ he continues brazenly, ignoring me. He pauses to sneer at her. ‘What do you say, Eliza? Just a bit of fun between two friendly rivals.’
The room descends into a tense silence, everyone watching the two patrons as they stare each other down. Lady Maycourt breaks into a smile, her eyes flashing with mischief.
‘You’re on.’
My mouth drops open while everyone erupts into cheers. I watch in horror as Lady Maycourt places the cigar between her lips to extend her right hand to Ambrose, who mirrors her action, clenching the cigar with his teeth before shaking her hand vigorously to whoops and applause.
Oh God. What have I done?
The tension between the two teams now dispersed as the party atmosphere returns, Lady Maycourt picks her way through the drawing room and exits, sauntering down the hall with me in hot pursuit.
‘Lady Maycourt, wait. Lady M!’ I call out.
‘Yes?’ she answers without looking back, stepping out through the front door and down the steps to the gravel of the drive.
‘We can’t do this,’ I say, lifting my dress to descend the steps.
She turns to face me. ‘Why not?’
‘Because!’ I throw up my hands. ‘It’s ridiculous! I can’t play in a polo match. I can’t play polo! And if I do, I’m only going to embarrass you and Maycourt. It’s going to make everything worse. We can’t beat the DQ grooms.’
‘I don’t see why not,’ she says calmly. ‘I meant what I said in there. Mateo has every faith in your riding ability, so I do, too. You dedicate yourself to polo the way you have to the stables and you’ll be a pro in no time.’
‘Lady M, if you go ahead with this, we are going to lose!’
‘No, you won’t,’ Mateo says, coming down the steps behind us.
‘Mateo,’ I groan, looking at him in wide-eyed panic, ‘I’ve only just started riding again. How am I going to learn how to play polo in one summer? There’s no way I’m going to be good enough for us to win!’
‘Yes, you will. I’ll teach you.’
‘But… this is serious,’ I say, pleading for him to see sense. ‘I’m going to need a lot of training to get anywhere near their level, and you don’t have time for that. This isn’t only my reputation on the line, it’s Maycourt’s, too. Please, we can’t do this.’
‘You have my word that I will be dedicated to your training.’
‘Mateo—’
‘With your natural talent and me teaching you, I think you can be better than anyone DQ have got,’ he says in a manner that won’t be argued with. ‘I can tell that it’s worth my time and effort to believe in you.’