Page 39 of Polo Fever
‘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 polothemselves.’
‘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. ‘Shehas to be on the team, since this all stemmed from her claim to be as good at polo as any of my grooms—’
‘Ididn’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.’
