“No,” Maria said, with a spark of mischief. “Allow me to be wrong entirely on my own.”
“As you wish,” he said and stepped back.
Alethea succeeded in sending her red ball through at last and looked so surprised by her own fortune that Charity clapped without meaning to.
“Next,” Prudence announced. “The long run to the elm. Mind the subtle incline.”
“Incline?” Charity said. “I do not believe in inclines on principle. You’ll find out.”
“They believe in you,” Temperance said.
They set off. Stephen and Maria fell into that conversation before either noticed. He measured his stride to hers without thinking of it.
“You seem to be rather apt at holding the mallet,” he remarked.
“And you like to be contrary,” she returned. “Black ball, indeed.”
“It suits me,” he said. “It is maligned when it wins.”
“And triumphant when it loses?”
“Never triumphant,” he said. “Merely entertained.”
She shot him a look that had grown easier between them. “I cannot decide whether you are dangerous at games or only to pride.”
“I prefer to be dangerous to nothing at all,” he said, and spoiled the statement by grinning.
At the mid-point hoop, Stephen sent his ball through on a cruel angle that allowed him to croquet Maria’s green a few feet. Not so far as to ruin her position, but far enough to make her glare.
“Forgive me,” he said.
“You are ruthless,” she informed him.
“Only when it helps you later,” he replied.
“In what universe doesthathelp me?”
“In the one where you prefer to be angry with me for sport rather than…” He caught himself. “Rather than something useful.”
Maria found herself getting amused instead.
“Very well,” she said. “I shall be angry in an entertaining way.”
“Do,” he said. “You are good at it.”
“Duchess Alethea,” Stephen called, “You have a choice, bold or sensible.”
“Sensible,” Alethea said at once, then added, shy but brave, “unless boldness will make Maria win.”
“Boldness will make Mariateaseme,” Stephen said. “Which is better?”
Alethea blushed and aimed sensibly. At the penultimate hoop, Charity overreached, hit a tuft, and sent her ball into a patch of clover.
“Rescue it with grace,” Temperance said.
“Tell us it was intended,” Prudence said.
“It was intended,” Charity repeated at once, brightening.