Time to return to the world.
She hesitates, not quite ready—unwilling to consider the greater reality, that this is likely the first and last—no, no, she can’t let herself go there, or she’ll weep into her breakfast.
Gwen reaches out and takes her hand, twining their fingers together. She opens the door and confidently guides Bethdown the hall. It isn’t so strange, to hold hands with a friend. They can get away with at least that through the halls. And so Beth focuses on the knock of their knuckles and the warmth of Gwen’s palm. She lets herself be led down the staircase and through the grand entryway to the dining room.
Gwen comes to a halt so suddenly Beth bumps into her back, the two of them teetering there in the doorway to the massive dining room. She’d marvel at the enormous mahogany table set and chandelier, but it’s the sight of her mother and Lord Havenfort cozily ensconced at the far end, chairs close together and hands a breath apart on the tabletop, that steals her focus.
Her mother is giggling while Lord Havenfort watches her so fondly it almost makes Beth’s chest hurt. Father never looked at her mother that way, and Mother never looked that free in their own dining room. The only time she’s ever been that at ease around food is in the kitchens, baking with Mrs. Mildred or taking breakfast with Beth, far from her father’s reach.
Gwen’s hand grips at Beth’s as they watch their parents interact. Their parents, who they want to get married, so they could become—Beth swallows hard, her throat tight. They were meant to be getting their parents engaged, not engaging in... it themselves. Suddenly their silly plan seems to have manifested, but everything’s been turned upside down.
“There you two are,” Lord Havenfort says, grinning when he catches sight of them. “Come in, come in. Lady Demeroven and I were just setting the terms of our wager for the match today.”
Gwen slowly drags Beth into the room, guiding her around to sit opposite Mother and dropping her hand as they get totheir respective chairs. Beth feels the loss of her fingers keenly, barely able to meet her mother’s happy eyes. If Mother knew what they’d done—
“Lord Havenfort seems sure that the UEE will win its match against the AEE, which I highly doubt.”
“Doubt to the tune of five pounds?” Lord Havenfort teases.
“I wouldn’t take that wager, Lady Demeroven,” Gwen says as her father passes her a trivet of eggs. “Father wins all his cricket bets.”
“Just because his father went to school with Jemmy Dean doesn’t make the upstarts on the UEE good players,” Mother replies primly, smiling over at Beth. “Beth and I always root for the AEE.”
“Oh, do you?” Gwen asks, and Beth swallows at the playful glint in her eye. It’s the same one she had before the infamous croquet debacle. “Care to make a wager of our own?”
Beth glances over at her mother, still feeling at sea. But Mother’s look brooks no surrender, and she’s not about to let Mother get ganged up on, even by their respective... whatever the Havenforts are to the Demerovens these days.
“Five pounds,” Beth says, nodding as Gwen gapes. “George Parr’s got the lineup all settled, and they’ve won every match so far this year.”
“George Parr wouldn’t know strategy if it bit him on the arse,” Gwen returns.
“Gwen,” Lord Havenfort interjects, laughing even as he tries to frown at his daughter. Mother snorts.
“He wouldn’t!” Gwen defends.
“Well, no of course he wouldn’t, but don’t let me catch you using such language at the match. Miss Demeroven, I’m countingon you to keep her in line. You’ve heard her at Albie and Bobby’s games.”
“Oh, no, you don’t heckle at the first-class matches, do you?” Beth says, hearing the whine in her voice. Mother begins to blush. “Mother does too.”
“She does?” Lord Havenfort crows, grinning over as her mother slouches. “I never.”
“I learned it from you!” Mother exclaims, making all of them laugh.
Beth settles in to listen as their parents bicker and explain the matches they attended twenty years ago. How they were almost expelled once for poor behavior and Mother was kept on the world’s shortest leash for the next week by her governess. Beth and Gwen eat, exchanging easy smiles. It almost feels... normal. As if nothing happened the night before—as if their plan is simply going swimmingly, and they could all be eating at this table, taking bets and teasing as one big happy family.
But as they all sidle into the stands together hours later, freshly dressed and trussed up for a public outing, that ease disappears. In public, in the face of all that they’ve done, Beth feels distinctly uncomfortable.
Can people tell that they’ve lain together? That the way Gwen presses up against her is less than innocent? That her body still tingles with the memory of the previous night, and the blush on her cheeks has nothing to do with the heat and her skirts, and everything to do with the hand Gwen slips into her own?
Mother and Lord Havenfort pay them little mind, sitting too close together on their own and nudging back and forth as the teams step onto the field for the captains to shake hands. The stands are full to bursting, the whole ton out to see this auspicious match. The AEE under new management, the UEE still considered an upstart even five years later—the crowd is wild and she can hear more than one wager being made around them in absolute excess.
“You’re going down,” Gwen says firmly as the teams begin to take their positions.
“Oh, please,” Beth replies, squeezing her hand. Gwen nudges her shoulder. “The UEE couldn’t outsmart George if they consulted mathematicians. They’ve got nothing on our speed and Mortlock can hit circles around Clarke. You’re doomed.”
“Father swears by Clarke. I think you’ll be disappointed.”
“Well, he can’t be right about everything,” Beth counters, glancing over at Gwen’s father, who’s whispering to Mother in much the same way, though Beth can tell Mother’s giving no quarter in return. “And he’s wrong about this.”
