“He’s looking now, Caro.”
“No one gave you leave to call me that.”
“You did once,” he argued. “Many years ago. Has that permission been rescinded?”
“We were children.” She tugged at her mallet.
He did not relinquish it. “If it really bothers you, Caro, I won’t say it again.”
Her brows shot up. “You just did.”
“It does not count until you direct me.” He looked intoher eyes, aware Dennison might not have been the only man to pay attention to the way he was acting toward her.
“You may use it,” she said quietly. “We are old friends, after all. But perhaps not in company.”
“It slipped out at the ball that first night. I would never have intentionally been so reckless.”
“Yet here you are, forcing me to speak to you with hardly any space between us.”
Tristan looked down into her blue eyes. “This is nothardly any space, Caro. I can show you what hardly any space would look like.”
She swallowed, drawing his attention to her throat. “We had better begin playing.”
“You can take a turn first.” Tristan stepped back. He needed to cool off.
Caroline took her ball and mallet toward the first iron ring and placed them at the starting point. She pulled her mallet back and swung hard, knocking the ball with a loud clack. It rolled forward on the grass, but veered to the side, and she exhaled heavily.
She was not unaffected by him.
Tristan lined up his ball and aimed his mallet, hitting it close to Caroline’s. She glanced at him. “Did you do that on purpose?”
“Our balls are attracted to one another, it seems.”
She pressed her lips into a flat line.
He leaned on his mallet like a tall walking stick. “You know, this won’t work if you appear unhappy to be speaking with me.”
Caroline’s face immediately transformed into a genial smile. “Is this better?”
“To be honest, I enjoyallexpressions that play out onyour charming face. Each new one is like a gift, and I never quite know what I am going to get.”
“If you’re going to be ridiculous, I will have great trouble appearing pleased.” She turned from him before he could assure her he meant every word. He had a feeling she wouldn’t believe him, anyway.
Her ball landed nearer to the iron ring but listed to the right this time. Either she was flustered or her aim was abhorrent. Tristan hit his ball just behind hers, and she gave him a look of exasperation.
“What?” he asked innocently. He was certainly trying to remain near her ball, but only because he’d have liked to remain nearher. A few surreptitious glances at Dennison proved the man was watching them. The beginning of their plan was in motion and, unfortunately, Tristan was certain it was going to work. Perhaps not today, but over time, it would work.
“Win the game so we can be finished.”
“I’d rather remain beside you,” he argued, reaching to pluck a bit of dust from her sleeve. He pressed his hand to her forearm, aware of the heat of her stare as he did so. “If we finish the game, you will go off and find Miss Fielding, I presume.”
“Is she here?” Caroline asked, her gaze sweeping the crowd. Her voice was dry.
Tristan reclaimed his hand, glancing to where Miss Fielding was speaking to Lord Bengard and his sister. Miss Fielding was dwarfed by the pair of dusky, lithe siblings, her light brown hair shining in the sunlight beneath a chip straw bonnet. Bengard’s dark brows were slashes above his deep-set eyes. Something about his expression felt off to Tristan, but he had already shared his concerns with Caroline on that score.
When he turned his attention back to his partner, she was watching him. “You still don’t like Lord Bengard.”
“Don’ttrust,” he corrected. “I have trouble trusting the man. Entirely different.”
