"His shoulder?" Lady Alexandra looked puzzled. "You mean the one on his knee, surely?"
"Right," Sasha said desperately. "His knee. I meant his knee, obviously. I was thinking of his… other scar. From a completely different accident." Christ, why had she mentioned body parts? What was wrong with her?
"What other scar?" Lady Alexandra asked with increasing suspicion.
"The one from… cricket?" Sasha said, grasping at straws. Rich people played cricket, didn’t they?
On the other side of the table, Sophie was burying her face in a napkin and Archie was biting his lip.
"Cricket?" Lady Alexandra looked even more puzzled. "Ambrose has never played cricket. He detests team sports."
"Right. Yes, my mistake. Um…" Sasha could feel sweat beading on her forehead. "Polo?" Rich people definitely played polo.
"He fell off his pony precisely once, dear, and that was quite enough equestrian adventure for one lifetime. He’s the only member of the family that doesn’t ride."
Ambrose was making increasingly frantic gestures, but Sasha was too panicked to decode them properly.
"Fencing," she said desperately.
"Now you're just making things up," Sophie said helpfully.
The table fell silent. Even Tiffany looked up from her phone, sensing drama.
"Perhaps," Lady Alexandra said with dangerous politeness, "you two might spend a little of your time here getting to know each other a little better."
At which point, Archie took pity on them all and changed the subject to the local hunt. Leaving Sasha feeling like she’d run a marathon and firmly come in last place.
WHEN DINNER FINALLY ended, Sasha escaped to the terrace, desperate for air that didn't smell of her own embarrassment.
The evening was still warm, though the earlier rain had left everything smelling fresh and green. She found a quiet corner near the rose garden and was taking deep, calming breaths when footsteps approached.
"Ah," Victoria said, appearing beside her with a glass of wine. "Didn’t mean to interrupt."
"You’re not," Sasha replied. "I think your grandmother is probably researching private investigators as we speak. Not sure I’m really pulling this off."
"She’ll reserve judgment for a while," Victoria said, leaning against the balustrade. "Though I have to admit, the fencing scar was inspired. Very… creative problem-solving."
"Right. Distinct lack of ferrets though." Sasha looked out over the darkening gardens. "I suppose it could have been worse. I could have claimed he got it in a duel."
"It’d be over another man's honor, though," Victoria said pointedly.
Which seemed like a less than coy reminder. Sasha groaned, then remembered that the last time she’d seen Victoria was when she inexplicably walked away in the rain. "You got rather wet earlier," she said, then immediately regretted the phrasing when Victoria's eyebrows rose.
"I'm sorry?"
"From the rain. When you ran away from the greenhouse." Sasha felt her cheeks warming. "That came out wrong."
"Did it?" There was something in Victoria's voice, something that made Sasha look at her more carefully.
"You seemed to be in quite a hurry to get away."
"Perhaps I was avoiding something."
"What were you avoiding?"
Victoria moved closer, close enough that Sasha could catch her perfume on the evening breeze. Close enough that she felt a pulse in a place that didn’t normally have a pulse. "Poor decision-making, probably."
"Ah." Sasha's heart was doing something complicated in her chest. "And how's that working out for you?"
