Alethea narrowed her eyes in playful challenge.
"Oh, have you decided to not spare me at all?" she teased.
"Absolutely not," Oliver confirmed, chuckling.
"We're going to win! We're going to win!" Clara skipped around Alethea.
"Very well. I see how it is. I shall have to win despite your devious methods," Alethea shook her head, feigning exasperation. Determinedly, she marched off into the clover to find her ball. It had rolled farther than she thought, nearly to the edge of a thicket of bushes that bordered the meadow. She located the green sphere nestled against some brush and fetched it back to the proper spot to resume play.
Each time Alethea tried to make progress, one or the other of the brothers found a way to foil her. They were laughing like children. Oliver would wink at Theodore after a particularly clever shot, and Theodore would respond with mock salute. In return, Alethea began conspiring with the girls. If Oliver's ball lay conveniently near, she would encourage Eleanor to accidentally bump it off line.
It was all good fun.
"I surrender, I surrender!" Alethea announced when she could no longer catch up. "I cannot possibly triumph against such foes."
The game was, in truth, close to finished anyway. By some miracle, Theodore and Clara were ahead now, only one arch away from victory. Eleanor and Oliver trailed just behind, and Alethea's green ball…well, it was decidedly last thanks to all the interference.
"Victory is at hand!" Theodore proclaimed. He lined up for the final shot as everyone watched in anticipation. He struck the red ball cleanly through the last hoop and right against the post that marked the end of the course.
"We win!" Clara shouted, jumping up and down. Theodore hoisted her into the air in triumph. "We win, we win!"
"That was awfully sporting of you, to endure our tricks," Oliver said to her, walking closer.
"I shall have my revenge eventually, fear not."
But in earnest, there would be no revenge. She had only wanted to diffuse the tension between the two brothers and it seemed that she had achieved her goal.
"I don't doubt it," Oliver laughed. To her surprise, he raised her captured hand to his lips and pressed a quick kiss there. Alethea felt the awareness of it ripple through her. They exchanged a glance before separating, mindful of the others around.
Daphne strolled over, hands clapping.
"That was the most entertaining pall-mall I've seen in ages. Who knew you were all such schemers?"
"Learned from the best," Theodore quipped, nodding toward Oliver. "You should see him at cards, really. He is ruthless."
"I play fair…mostly," Oliver shrugged his shoulders.
"Remind me never to wager money against you," Ambrose joked as the onlookers joined them on the field. He gave Oliver a friendly clap on the back. It warmed Alethea's heart to see how at ease everyone was. Even Joyce had come closer, the baby in her in arms.
Theodore caught sight of her and his expression lit up.
"Lady Joyce," he said brightly, "it seems my sister and I owe you and your family a debt for allowing us such a delightful afternoon."
Joyce flushed at being directly addressed, but she managed a reply.
"The pleasure is ours. It's been some time since I've seen Alethea laugh so much." She shifted the baby to her other hip, and Theodore's eyes dropped to the child, then back to Joyce's face.
"You sing beautifully," he said, a bit softer. "I heard you earlier with the babe."
Joyce's eyes widened in surprise at the compliment. She opened her mouth, searching for a response. But at that moment, Oliver stepped forward and cleared his throat.
"We should all have a bite to eat, don't you think?" Oliver announced. He looked between Theodore and Joyce, his eyes carrying a hint of caution.
"Yes, luncheon!" Clara cheered, entirely oblivious to the tension. She grabbed Theodore's hand, tugging him along. "Come, Brother."
Joyce lowered her gaze and murmured something about checking on the baby's nap needs. Theodore allowed himself to be dragged off by Clara, though he glanced over his shoulder at Joyce with a touch of regret.
Alethea inwardly sighed. It had been a brief moment, but progress nonetheless—at least they'd exchanged words.
