“Ah, Gough. You must have known of me before you came into my employ,” Gideon quickly said, confident in the utter loyalty of his staff. “How many women does it seem I have hosted in this house, Gough?”
“Women, Your Grace? A few, I should guess. No more than...”
Gideon waved a hand. “Ignore the question, chap. Didn’t mean to put you on the spot. Have the letters taken out to the table where Her Grace is breakfasting.”
He turned back to the window and found himself looking into Catherine’s eyes. Her latest wild shot had brought her closer to the window, and they stood separated by a depth of a few dozen feet and a pane of glass.
“Are you joining me?” she asked, hands gesturing wildly, voice muffled.
Gideon opened the window. Birdsong and the buzzing of insects reached him as well as the heady scent of blossom and petals.
“Are you joining me?” Catherine shouted again, moving a few hesitant steps closer.
“Am I still invited, or have you already finished breakfast?” Gideon called out.
“I have not started, and you are still invited. I saw the croquet set and thought I might give it a try.” She lifted the mallet wildly.
“You have not played before.”
“How could you tell?”
“Because I have just spotted the ball beneath that rhododendron over there. There is no hoop there, last I played anyway!”
Catherine blushed, glimpsing the ball and going over to retrieve it.
“I have never played, but it looked fun! Will you show me?”
“Simple to learn, difficult to master. It is a diversion, I suppose. All sports are diverting, that is why I like most of them.”
“That is certainly a change. But perhaps many boys find an interest in games when they become men!”
Gideon saw the trap coming—it stood out in their conversation like a barely concealed snare.
A change. So, Aaron was not a sporting boy when she knew him. Father would not have tolerated that when it was just the two of us.
Gideon’s face went stony. Was the question a shrewdly set attempt to force him to say something that might reveal his secret?
“Will you?” Catherine repeated, louder over the vastness of the lawn.
She held the mallet in one hand, turning the handle absently as she glanced up at Gideon through her lashes. When their eyes lingered together a moment too long, her gaze fluttered away and a delicate blush bloomed across her cheeks.
Ishould refuse. Claim the demands of work. It would be sensible to protect myself from future potential traps.
“Yes,” Gideon heard himself instead saying, “it may be useful for you to be able to play. Particularly when we dine with the Threnthorpes. They do seem to like the accessories of the upper classes.”
He did not know why he had agreed. Could think of no rational reason other than it would mean spending more time in company with Catherine. He found himself watching her pretty, happy smile as she turned away.
“I shall await you then,” Catherine said, retrieving the other wayward balls.
Gideon could not look away. Her beauty was sublime, made more so by the aura of innocence she seemed to possess. He watched her slim figure, admiring the motion of her body as she ambled, swinging the mallet indolently.
He turned from the window, each step away feeling like a small deprivation. As he descended the stairs, he marshaled his resolve. He would be aloof. Unmoved. Deny her any concession.
Thatparticular resolution lasted right up until he reached the lawn.
Catherine was lining up another shot, her stance all wrong, her grip on the mallet an absolute crime against the sport. Before he could announce himself, she swung.
He ducked.
