“Oh, this is quite delightful,” Alethea muttered. “Though I must say that I do not remember the rules all too well.”
“Then you will have company,” Charity said. “I only ever remember the rules that improve my chances.”
“Those are called inventions,” Temperance murmured, but she was smiling. “Or cheating, if you will.”
“Do not accuse me of such a thing,” Charity grinned.
“Shall we, then?” Prudence replied.
“Do they always banter like this?” Stephen said to Maria in a whisper so that only she could hear. A wide smile formed on her face.
“I should say so,” she nodded. “They are what you call a lively bunch.”
“I can see that,” he said. “If this is the company that you kept in the nunnery, then I should say that you were in good hands.”
She blushed. She had not expected him to so directly acknowledge it like this.
“I suppose it made up for the other thing,” she replied. She hated to discuss how tainted she was at the nunnery. Suddenly, something in Stephen shifted, and he got a serious look on his face.
“I did not mean to bring up unpleasant memories.”
“You did not,” she said with a small smile. “At least, not any more than that are always present. Let us go now.”
They went out together: the duke and his duchess, a step ahead because the corridor required it; the three friends behind. Alethea kept stealing glances at Maria.
The south lawn had been striped by the gardeners into neat, pale bands. A footman had set the wooden hoops at cunning angles. The mallets stood in a shallow wooden rack.
“Who dares claim that one?” Charity whispered, delighted.
“No one who means to keep friends,” Prudence said. “We shall remain civil and choose by lot.”
“Ladies first,” Stephen gestured to the rack.
Charity gave Maria a sly smile, as if to saywhat a thorough gentleman.Temperance accepted the courtesy with a small nod.
“Let it be known we enticed you from your letters only to defeat you with mercy.”
“I am not above being defeated,” Stephen said gravely. “Only bored.”
“That we cannot allow,” Alethea said.
Maria stepped to the rack. On impulse, her fingers went to the black ball. She paused, then chose the deep green instead.
“A wise woman leaves that one for a man who needs rescuing,” Stephen teased her.
“Do you need rescuing?” Maria asked.
“Not yet,” he said.
Prudence took blue, Temperance white, Charity cheerful yellow, Alethea hopeful red. Stephen reached last and raised a brow at the remaining black.
“Sir,” Prudence said, respectful and mild, “no one will think less of you if you prefer brown.”
“On the contrary,” Stephen said, selecting the black with a relish he did not trouble to hide, “someone always thinks less of me. I may as well earn it.”
Alethea laughed before she could stop herself. “Forgive me, Your Grace.”
“Gladly,” Stephen said, and looked at Maria as if to share the two words with her as well.