He tugged discreetly on one end of the ribbon, causing the bow to loosen. I tugged it the rest of the way until both ends hung loose in front of me.
Alexander’s eyes found mine again beneath the brim of my bonnet. “Now pretend I said something extremely amusing, and tip your head back with a laugh. Ensure your bonnet falls to the grass.”
“You already fed me a piece of fruit,” I whispered. “That is quite enough for one day.”
“Lord Kirkham is watching,” he said through closed teeth.
That was reason enough. I threw my head back with a flirtatious laugh, putting one hand to my forehead. I nudged the bonnet off, sending it to the ground behind me. “Oh!” I exclaimed, pressing a hand to my curls. I held back a genuine laugh as Alexander scrambled to retrieve it, biting the inside of my cheek.
He scooped up the bonnet just as I had expected him to. He stood in front of me, straightening the tangled ribbons. I felt the gazes of several guests on us—hungry for fresh gossip, to be sure. Alexander drew a step closer, placing the bonnet on top of my head with a slow, gentle movement. His soft eyes traced over my face. “May I?” He held the ribbons in each hand.
I swallowed, forcing a demure smile to my lips. “Yes.”
He tied the ribbons slowly, his knuckles grazing my neck. My body reacted to his touch, a shiver following each one. I cursed myself for noticing the sensation at all. A furrow marked the center of his brow as he finished the bow and met my gaze again. I thought he was finished, but then he traced the curve of my cheek with the back of his forefinger. “There. Beautiful, as always.” His eyes bored into mine, warm and gentle.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or smile or run away. He was far too good at this. His acting would convince anyone.
It would even convince me if I wasn’t careful.
I drew a deep breath, tearing my gaze away from his adoring eyes. They reached all the way into my soul, prodding around in there and digging up emotions I wasn’t familiar with. No one had ever looked at me the way Alexander was looking at me now, fake or not. It was completely unsettling.
A sound escaped me—a breathless giggle. “You are too kind, Mr. Holland.” My strained smile made my cheeks ache. Contrary to Alexander’s talent, I was not good at this at all. I wrapped my hand around his arm again, glancing at all the faces around us.
Lord Kirkham’s mouth was a firm line, his venomous eyes fixed on Alexander. Octavia glared at me, though Victoria appeared amused. Mrs. Fitzgibbon was all shock, her gaze bobbing in every direction like a startled pigeon. Miss Morton and Miss Rowley shared their cousin’s surprise, though Miss Morton stared at me like I was a thief who had just stolen the very dress off her back.
Lady Tottenham grinned.
We stopped walking when we reached the edge of the open lawn near the rose bushes and lemonade table. Cricket was generally a man’s sport, and did not sound enjoyable in the slightest. I fully planned to sit at the table with the women, even knowing that I would either be snubbed or interrogated. Either one would be painfully awkward.
I studied the field. It was empty. Cricket was played with a bat and ball, with two sets of three wickets set up at each end of the pitch. The lawn was not set up for a game of cricket. Besides that, there weren’t nearly enough guests to have proper teams, even if all of the ladies participated.
“This doesn’t look like cricket,” I said in a quiet voice.
Alexander looked just as confused as I was.
“Ladies and gentlemen, gather round.” Lady Tottenham’s loud voice faltered at the end, and she coughed into her arm. A maid rushed forward to give her a handkerchief. She cleared her throat, continuing in a softer voice. “I promised you a game of cricket, and that you shall have.”
“I don’t see a ball,” Mr. Barnwall said with a frown.
“Or wickets,” added Mr. St. Vincent.
Lady Tottenham laughed, throwing her head back in a similar fashion to what I had just done to drop my bonnet. The high-pitched laughter made three birds take flight out of a nearby tree. “There is no need for wickets or a ball,” she said, wiping at the corner of her eye. “How silly of me. I should have explained.” Her smile disappeared as she snapped her fingers. From behind the crowd, two footman stepped forward, each placing a covered silver tray on the table beside the rose bushes. Lady Tottenham’s violet skirts rustled as she moved to stand beside the table. “I have my own version of the game of cricket.”
“Of course she does,” Alexander muttered.
With a flourish, Lady Tottenham lifted the lid that covered the first tray. A set of gasps came from the front row of guests—Mrs. Pike, Octavia, and Victoria.
I stood on the tips of my toes.
My stomach sank.
Of course. The moment I heard the wordcricketI should have known Lady Tottenham’s true intentions.
On the tray were dozens of dried crickets, spindly legs pointed toward the grey sky.
CHAPTER 12
ANNE
