Page 56 of The Duke's Auctioned Spinster
“That shouldn’t be fair, Edmund, you practically took the shot for her!” Beatrice said. A few people teased him for breaking the rules like that, while Rose remained quiet because she was starting to think that it was she who was breaking their private rules.
The more time she spent with Edmund, the more her feelings were developing, and she wasn’t sure what she could do to stop them. She had come to enjoy their time together, and it felt as though she was only beginning to know the real him. But itwould all come to an end soon, and they would likely never see each other again.
Although she still didn’t want marriage, she wanted at least to know him, to speak with him, to bicker and banter with him because while he was infuriating, she couldn’t deny that he made life exciting.
The game continued. Amelia still gravitated toward Edmund, although she did not require as much coaching. Neither did Rose. Shots were made, points were scored. Edmund continued to make farcical shots, sometimes standing with his back to the ball and swinging the mallet through his legs, other times holding the mallet in his hands and kicking the back of it with his foot.
At one point, Rose saw an opportunity to knock Amelia’s ball out of bounds. Amelia’s last shot had gone askew, and the ball was close to the side of the lane. Rose adjusted her stance and aimed carefully. Her ball slammed into Amelia’s, sending it careening out of the lane, while Rose’s rolled forward.
“Oh dear, that’s entirely my fault for leaving it too close to the side. Good shot, Rose,” Amelia said, taking it in good spirits.
As the game was drawing to a close, the points were close.
“If you get the ball with this stroke, then you will win,” Nathaniel said. There were a few men around him checking the scores. Rose looked at the iron hoop, which was still some way away. Her ball was at an angle as well, so it was no matter of a simplestraight shot. Ordinarily, the best tactic would have been to take one shot to set up the ball and then another to score.
But if she wanted to win, Rose was going to have to take a risk.
And Rose did want to win.
If she made the correct shot, she would be able to score, but it required precise aim, as the angle meant the ball would only just squeeze through the hoop. If she were off by even the smallest margin, then the ball would careen off the iron hoop and bounce off.
Rose took a deep breath to compose herself. A hush came over the crowd. Everyone watched with bated breath as the good-natured game suddenly became serious, for it called down to this one moment, to this single shot.
Rose swung her arms and hit the ball cleanly. She followed through with the mallet and forced herself to watch. The ball rolled down the lane. People clasped their hands, gasped, held themselves ready to leap in the triumph of victory or sink in the despair of defeat. Murmurs emerged from the crowd as they would the ball on, as if they could have some influence on its course.
But its course had been set by Rose’s strike, and there was nothing else that could influence it now. She watched, waited. For a moment, it seemed as though it was going to veer away from the hoop. As it got closer, she became sure that she wasgoing to narrowly miss, that there would be a loud clang as it struck the iron hoop and bounced off.
She closed her eyes at the last moment, unable to watch. But as she did, she heard a great roar rise up.
“You did it!” Edmund cried.
“Well done, Rose!” other people shouted. Rose opened her eyes and saw her ball, resting beyond the iron hoop. People gathered around her, patting her on the back and shaking her hand, and Rose had never felt such a sense of belonging before. She smiled and thanked everyone.
Then they parted, and Edmund approached her.
“Well played,” he said, inclining his head, smiling with pride. They were both standing on the lane, and he turned to everyone else.
“What a fine contest that was, and what a way to bring it to an end. We were evenly matched, but in the end, a daring stroke of genius sealed our victory. To Rose!” he said.
“To Rose!” everyone echoed.
Edmund clasped her hand and lifted it above their heads. His grip was firm, and he held it for a long time. Because of the way she felt, she couldn’t focus on the moment of triumph, only on him, on the pressure of his hand against hers, on the warmththat seeped into her palm, on the way they were standing together with everyone assuming that one day soon they were going to announce an engagement.
And just for a moment, she could almost believe it herself, that she could stand beside him for the rest of her life and partake in these games, put up with his antics, and share victories and defeats with him. It was almost as though a dream was forming in her mind, and the more she thought about it, the more desirable it became.
“What a jolly good show,” he said, quietly enough for her to understand that the words were meant for her and her alone. There was a glint in his eyes, and she began to suspect that he wasn’t just referring to her winning shot.
Then she thought about how he’d acted with Amelia, and she wondered if he was trying to provoke her, test her, make her act out of character.
Was this just a game to him, like everything else?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rose had spent the afternoon resting. That evening, she still wanted some peace and quiet, so she went to the library.
Perhaps it was for the best to keep her distance from Edmund for the time being. There had been enough moments to convince everyone that something was stirring between them, so when she eventually told people she was heartbroken, they would not question it.
She was perusing a shelf when she heard footsteps behind her. Familiar footsteps.
