“Are you paying attention... at all?” Beth asks.
Bobby blinks and looks back at the jack, which he’s missed by more than a foot. “Um, of course?”
Beth shakes her head. “She’ll be insufferable now, you know.”
Bobby shrugs guiltily and steps back for Gwen and Demeroven to make the uncontested winning throws. Beth did a perfectly commendable job, but he’s pants at lawn bowling. Which normally doesn’t rankle—he’s long since given up on any hope of besting either of the girls at sports—but it does make him a little ashamed in front of Demeroven.
He pulls off his coat just as Albie declares them the losers. Gwen whoops while Beth politely congratulates Demeroven.Albie then leads Gwen, still gloating, off toward the other teams for the next round. Beth looks over at Bobby and shrugs helplessly before she follows them, giggling at Gwen and Albie’s antics.
Bobby stretches, shaking his head, dejected. He glances over and finds Demeroven staring at him, his face a bit flushed. Bobby stills, confused, and then realizes he’s sweaty and unjacketed himself. And Demeroven is... admiring him? How interesting.
Maybe they finally have something in common.
“Would you like to join me at the club this evening? I have a feeling you must have opinions about what sailing bets to place at Cowes, given your background, and I could use some serious help, or Gwen will bet me under the table,” Bobby says.
Simple, innocent, but friendly. That’s all he’s extending. Friendship. He is absolutely not imagining an evening at Thomas Parker’s club. At least not yet. They have to learn to swim before he throws Demeroven directly into the deep end. He needs to really suss the man out first.
But all that open regard on Demeroven’s face disappears in a single blink. Demeroven hurriedly pulls on his jacket and adjusts his collar, his face flushing. “I don’t gamble, if you recall,” he says.
“Right,” Bobby manages, too surprised by the sudden chill in the man’s voice to come up with something more elegant. “I, ah, simply thought it might be fun.”
“Well, I don’t gamble,” Demeroven repeats. “Gambling makes men incautious.”
“I... suppose that’s true,” Bobby agrees slowly. “I just thought it would be something we could—”
“I cannot afford to be incautious, regardless of how much our cousins want us to be friends,” Demeroven says, his wordsrushed and clipped. Then he turns on his heel and marches stiffly after Beth and Gwen.
Bobby stands there, totally perplexed.Heisn’t incautious. Was that meant to be a slight against his family reputation? He doesn’t even know if Demeroven has any inkling of his father’s past.
Bobby hovers for a moment, unsure. He watches Demeroven join Beth, Gwen, and Albie, observing the last of Prous’ game. Watches Albie lean down to ask Demeroven something, Gwen listening eagerly beside him. Bobby feels his shoulders come up. He heads for the drinks table, too confused and oddly discomfited to force himself to join the group and cheer on Demeroven and his cousin now.
No matter what they do, there’s just no escaping the mess their father left for them, is there? Bobby pours himself another dram and retreats to his original spot against the hedge, the party coming full circle. He watches at a remove as Gwen and Demeroven go on to trounce the remaining competition. There was never any doubt.
Bobby lets the burn of alcohol down his throat mirror the quiet discontent he feels. He’s just insulted, that’s all. It’s not that, for a brief moment, it felt like he might be able to make a friend out of James Demeroven. That he was getting along with Gwen and Beth, that he maybe shares a particular worldview—that he seemed mildly interesting, with his history of sport and his ability to discuss races with Gwen.
He can’t be disappointed. So he must be angry. That’s what he’s feeling. It’s the only other option.
Beth breaks off from the crowd to head his way and Bobby sighs. He won’t be good company now, and, even though it’s sort of Beth’s fault for sticking him with the baffling man, he can’t be mean to her.
He’s only known her for a year, but already she’s like the sister he never had. Gwen will always be his annoying, delightful cousin. But Beth is a kindred spirit.
“I think it’s going well,” Beth says, turning to lean back beside him.
Her blue skirt presses into his leg. She holds out her hand and he passes his drink into her waiting palm. “You do?”
“He and Gwen are certainly getting along.”
“That’s something,” he admits. Gwen is usually a decent judge of character. But this time he’s not so sure.
Beth passes his drink back to him and takes his arm. He groans and she laughs. “I’ve been sent to get you. Gwen wants to discuss our week.”
“With Demeroven?”
“Of course,” Beth says primly, winking at him.
He really does want to pull away from her, but she’s such a petite woman, it wouldn’t be fair. And she’d best him in a contest of strength any day, even with all the boxing he’s been doing over the last six months.
Gwen, Albie, and a clearly uncomfortable Demeroven meet them by the large weeping willow at the back of the garden. Beth releases him to take Gwen’s arm, and Bobby watches them lean against each other, there in broad daylight, with no one any the wiser.
