That went astoundingly well for something they didn’t plan.
Beth giggles and grabs Gwen’s hand to tug her back down to their seats. Gwen threads their gloved fingers back together, a rush of excitement coursing through her at the prospect of a true afternoon with Beth. Even if she does have to share her with Lord Montson.
They settle in together, all four of them crowded around the table, too close and a little too warm. But she’s sitting at the table with Beth, poised for a whole afternoon with her, their knuckles knocking together, shoulders brushing. Her cheeks are starting to ache from smiling.
Albie ends some story about another boxing match and then the boys turn back to them. Montson seems to return to propriety and smiles at Beth. A brief, awkward silence descends on the table and some of Gwen’s joy slips away.
“Miss Demeroven, I meant to ask, Lady Gwen says you can best her in chess. Is that true?” Albie asks.
“It is,” Beth says quickly.
Albie whistles. “That’s a feat,” he tells Montson. “Lady Gwen can best even the most senior Lords in the House.”
“Oh dear, and you can beat her?” Montson asks, looking at Beth. “I’m ruined.”
Gwen sucks on her cheek, her chest tightening to see Beth’s attention turned to Montson, that pretty blush coming out for him too. She goes to pull her hand back, telling herself it’s to give Beth the best advantage in flirting, but Beth’s grip tightens. Perhaps she’s not as comfortable as she appears. She’s become a better actress in the last two weeks.
“I’m sure you can still beat me at archery,” Beth offers. Gwen can’t help but scoff. “What?”
“You’re a perfect shot,” Gwen says, giving Montson a sympathetic look as he playfully slumps in his seat. “You’d have to teach her something new. She’s annoyingly good at everything.”
“That’s not true at all,” Beth says, even as she goes further scarlet.
“You’re not tall,” Gwen allows.
Beth huffs. “Well, you’re very pale.”
“You’re paler!” Gwen argues, grinning as Beth’s eyes sparkle with challenge.
“Lady Gwen’s terrible at group dances,” Albie puts in. Gwen shoots a glare his way. “I am too. We were the worst at lessons.”
“Abysmal,” Gwen agrees, eyes still narrowed. “But I can stay in a boat.”
“She made me laugh!” Albie exclaims.
“You fell out of a boat?” Montson asks.
“Courting Lady Meredith,” Gwen says, smiling as Beth leans into her, giggling. It sends a little spark through her chest, that laughter just for her.
“A lovely girl,” Montson says, clapping Albie on the shoulder. “What’s a little embarrassment for love?”
“Nothing,” Albie says, holding his chin high. “Though Father almost had my hide. The suit was new.”
“I’m sure he’ll forgive you,” Montson says seriously. “The chance for grandchildren forgives so many sins.”
Beth blushes, and Albie snorts. Gwen forces a polite chuckle, but the very thought curdles in her gut. She doesn’t want to consider Beth taking tea with Montson, let alone having babies with him.
Montson blinks and then goes scarlet. “I’m sorry, that was rude.”
“Funny,” Albie finally says, when neither Beth nor Gwen has offered something else. Albie glances over at Gwen, raising an eyebrow. She tightens her jaw, searching for something respectable to say to be polite.
“I’m sure Lady Demeroven would forgive Miss Demeroven for falling into a lake as well,” she pushes out, forced sweetness in her voice.
“Oh, never,” Beth says, picking at the lace of her dress. “The money and the hours hemming this? She’d make me sew a new one.”
“Could you?” Montson asks, genuinely curious. Gwen laughs, how ludicrous. “What?”
“I suppose Icould,” Beth allows, her thumb stroking against Gwen’s wrist. The sensation almost makes her shiver. “But it would take ages, and the material—”
