He turned and winked in the direction of where Penelope and Bridget were sitting. Penelope was not quite sure if the wink was intended for her or for Bridget, although Bridget certainly was convinced it was meant for her, as she colored at once.
“You had best be careful, Lord Carlton, for even if Mr. Mavis is no competition for you, my father certainly will be. And he has all but promised my mother that the winning kiss will be hers. He is thus terribly motivated since he does not wish to spend the night out in the barn.”
Daniel laughed out loud at this. Penelope frowned as it was clear Daniel had already indulged in several cups of ale before the competition had even begun.
“Well, tell him that I am very sorry and he is more than welcome to spend the night at Carlton Manor, should your mother follow through on her threats.”
“I shall tell him, should it come to that. In any case, I most certainly hope that you will succeed in beating my father, though do not tell him I said so!” She chuckled and leaned into Penelope, who realized Daniel was not the only one who was already a little bosky.
Before further conversation could take place, Mr. McKenzie, the town’s ironsmith, stepped up onto the podium before them.
“Townspeople!” He hollered, causing a hush to spread through the assorted crowd.
“The time has come at last! The event we have all been waiting for is upon us. The challenge for those of you who have not partaken before, is simple. We have six pints of ale per contestant here.” He motioned toward the table behind him. “The winner will be the one who can drown all six the quickest and then stand up and walk, in as straight a line as can be expected, toward the ribbon over yonder!” He motioned toward a velvet ribbon strung between two tables near Penelope.
“Whoever makes his way through the ribbon first, without stumbling or falling, will then have the honor of bestowing a kiss upon any of these fine ladies here. Now! If the contestants will step up, please!”
At once Daniel, Mr. Mavis, Bridget’s father, and three other men walked up and stood behind their designated spot, the ales before them. Daniel and his friend were busy jesting with one another and laughing.
She found herself glancing up at him, determined to imprint an image of him in her mind. The last image of him before he was lost to her forever. He turned and the smile faded from his face as his gaze settled on her face. They looked at one another for a long moment, a moment that would have lasted much, much longer had it not been for Mr. McKenzie, who clapped his meaty hands together.
“Ready! Set! Drink!” He shouted and at once the men on stage grabbed the large jugs of ale and chugged them. Well, all but Mr. Mavis who took a large sip and grimaced, causing laughter among the crowd.
“Oh la!” Bridget exclaimed. “I fear Mr. Mavis will not do well. You may not be the recipient of the coveted kiss after all, Penny!”
“I fear you are right. It seems as though Lord Carlton will do much better. It is no wonder—he secretly has a great love for ale.”
Bridget looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Does he? I had no idea. What glorious news.” She grinned as though she had already won the prize. Up on the podium, Mr. Mavis struggled through his first jug still while the others had moved on to the second and third.
The competition remained close until the fourth, or in Mr. Mavis’ case the second, jug was finished, then two of the younger men conceded the race, one of them falling off the podium directly into a stack of hay positioned there for just this purpose.
Mr. Mavis, feeling perhaps a second wind of sorts, completed his third jug without incident, while beside him the third young man found himself felled by a coughing fit. The only remaining contenders were Mr. Mavis, Daniel, and Bridget’s father—who was on his fifth jug—with Daniel close behind.
“You can do it, Lord Carlton!” Bridget yelled out, thus distracting her father who looked her way, jug in hand. It seemed in his now inebriated state, he had trouble remembering just why his only daughter was cheering for the competition, allowing Daniel a crucial advantage in finishing his fifth cup and moving on to the next.
Having made up some time, Mr. Mavis was now on his fifth jug, but it all proved too much for him. He stood and swayed and at last fell backwards into the hay stack, laying there with his limbs spread wide until two attendants collected him and placed him to sober up in a tent nearby, along with the other contestants felled earlier in the race.
Bridget clasped Penny’s hand and the two watched as Daniel seemed to struggle with his last jug, holding it before him as though he could not continue, and thus allowing Mr. Hughes to catch up.
Penny frowned. Why would he struggle now, so late in the competition? It almost seemed as though it was on purpose. Surely, he knew he was about to win the competition. There was no doubt about it at all. Was he… trying to lose?
“What is he doing?” Bridget groaned. “Lord Carlton! Drink! Drink!”
A rowdy mood had spread through the crowd like a wave and Bridget was thoroughly swept up in it. Her face was flushed red, her eyes wide, and she had her hands balled into fists, spurring on the man she wanted to make her husband to finish the race against her very own father.
Looking at her from the podium, Daniel closed his eyes for a moment and chugged the rest of the ale, placing the jug down with a loud thud on the table. He stumbled down the podium, holding onto the table until he was down and beside the hay. Up on the podium. Mr. Hughes finished his cup and followed suit. Steadying himself, Daniel made his way toward the ribbon, swaying hither and fro as Mr. Hughes was but a few steps behind him.
She watched with bated breath as Daniel stumbled forward. For a moment, it looked as though Mr. Hughes might overtake him yet but the man stumbled over his own feet, falling flat onto the ground before him.
With the cheers of the crowd pushing him on, Penelope saw Daniel break through the ribbon before him, raising his arms in triumph.
Then Mr. McKenzie rushed forward towards him and took Daniel’s right arm, lifting it up in the air.
“The winner of this year’s competition! Daniel Jensen! The Earl of Carlton!” A cheer went through the crowd like a wave, although around her, several people whispered his name, having not been aware who he was until now. However, the cheers far outweighed the whispers and were soon entirely drowned out by the clapping and shouts of, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
Beside her, Bridget squeezed her hand, bracing herself for what she was sure would follow.
McKenzie called out once more. “And now it is time for the winner to claim his prize! Which lucky lady will it be, Lord Carlton? Put us out of our misery, I beg of you!” The crowd laughed and the anticipation was palpable in the air.
