Page 33 of The Good Fortune of Miss Robbins

Even Miss Allen, with her injured ankle, came out to play pall mall.

The weather was perfect, with only a slight breeze and some clouds but no threat of rain as Miss Allen pulled names written on small pieces of paper out of Lord Markeley’s hat to see who would go first. Rose Rutledge’s name was chosen first, mine was next to last, and Lord Brookhaven was last.

The one-foot-tall iron hoop stood about a hundred feet away from us on the grassy lawn. Traditionally, the alley on which one played pall mall was not grassy but made of hard, bare ground, but “the grass is very short here,” Lord Brookhaven said, “and so it shall serve nearly as well.”

After we had started to play, Lady Derringer came strolling out.

“Come and join us,” I called to her.

“We can work you in,” Lord Brookhaven said. “Not everyone has taken a turn yet.”

“I may not stay,” she said. “I’m expecting a letter from a friend, so I shall just watch.”

By the time it was my turn, Mr. Merritt had the best score. It had taken him three hits with his wooden mallet to get the ball through the iron hoop at the end of the grassy alley. No one else had done it in less than five tries.

I set my feet on either side of the ball, drew back my mallet, and hit it.

I hadn’t shared the information that I’d played pall mall before. Mrs. Southey believed it was an appropriate exercise for young ladies. Therefore, the garden at Mrs. Southey’s school possessed analley and iron hoop, and all the girls who boarded at the school were gifted a mallet their first Christmas, and there were spare mallets for the other girls. I’d been playing pall mall since I was six years old.

The ball rolled straight. Lord Markeley’s eyebrows rose. “It’s still going.”

The small amount of conversation that had been going on suddenly ceased. Someone gasped. Then my ball passed cleanly through the hoop without touching.

“Oh my!” Millicent exclaimed.

“Well done!” Mr. Merritt clapped his hands.

Miss Allen’s voice trailed off as she said, “I’ve never seen anyone...”

Rose Rutledge was glaring, as was her mama.

“How did you do that?” Millicent said.

I couldn’t help smiling as I turned to Lord Brookhaven. “Your turn, my lord.”

“I’m not sure if there’s any need for me to take a turn now.”

“Don’t forget what you said, that we would play in a cutthroat manner and that there were to be absolutely no tears.”

His mouth fell open slightly.

Mr. Merritt guffawed and slapped his own leg. “She has you there, Brooksie!”

“Cutthroat indeed!” Lord Markeley was looking on with wide eyes and an even wider smile.

“Miss Robbins is quite right,” Lord Brookhaven said. “No crying. I suppose I must take my turn now.”

I was so relieved he was taking my win—and my jest—with such good grace. And now, as his gaze settled on me . . . it made my heart swell to bursting.

“It’s the only way to finish the game.”

“Very well, then.” He stared a moment longer, his grin turning into a crooked frown.

He took his first shot, which went short and wide. After two more, his ball went through the hoop on the fourth hit.

“Well done, Brookhaven,” Lord Markeley said, “but you were bested by myself, and especially by Miss Robbins.” With an exaggerated bow and a smirk, he acknowledged my win.

Mr. Merritt came over and tipped his hat to me. “I hope you will not be offended when I say that I was surprised that you bested me.”