“No, thank you, my lord. I believe I can manage,” she said.
She heard her mother make a little noise from the crowd. Wonderful, it seemed she had done something else wrong. Refused the assistance of a potential suitor, in front of others. Forget that she had been playing better than he had for the entire round.
But now she was in a pickle. She knew she could make the shot before her. It was long, but she had a good angle. If she did so, though, that meant besting Crossworth. She wasn’t supposed to do that. Etiquette said that a lady was to defer to a man. Especially one she might link herself to.
And yet, if she won, she would face Lord Kirkwood in the final round. There would be such pleasure in defeatinghim, if only to take the smug satisfaction from his handsome face. To show him that poor manners could not be rewarded.
She drew a long breath, swung her mallet and hit it just so. The ball rolled and she leaned forward, feeling all in the crowd do the same. It began to slow as it approached the ring and Lord Crossworth smiled.
“No shame in—” He cut himself off as the ball cleared the ring and the crowd behind her erupted in applause and shouts of support.
Crossworth turned toward her, a smile on his face that did not reach his eyes. He held out a hand. “Good show, Miss Lockhart.”
“You are too kind. It was purely luck,” she lied. “And your good advice.”
She took his hand and he shook it, but he squeezed as he did so, a little too hard to be friendly. She pulled her hand away and rubbed it slightly as he turned from her and went to accept the condolences of the other gentlemen.
“It will be Clarissa and Kirkwood to the death, it seems!” George crowed. “I’ll be taking wagers to the side if anyone would like to partake.”
He was teasing and Clarissa laughed, but many of the gentlemen actually approached him. She shook her head. Men could be ridiculous on what they wagered on.
As the servants gathered up the balls and retrieved mallets from the other players, Clarissa made her way back down the alley. Her father stepped in as she did so, his long face even longer with a scowl.
“Why did you defeat the viscount?” he whispered.
She glanced at him. “It was a friendly game, Father. I merely had the luck of it.”
He glowered at her. “I have spared no expense to bring these men here for you to exhibit without competition. Do not make me regret it. When you face off with Lord Kirkwood, don’t repeat this foolishness. He is even more important than Crossworth and could raise you higher if you don’t muck it up as you’ve done so many times before.”
“You cannot possibly wish for me to match with?—”
But she couldn’t finish the sentence. Her father moved away from her and she sighed, letting her shoulders roll forward. She should have guessed her parents would see Kirkwood as a mighty catch, despite how ill-suited he would be to her. That didn’t matter to them. It was not supposed to matter to her.
“Deference to one’s parents,” she murmured as a reminder to herself. She didn’t have to fear. Kirkwood couldn’t possibly want her. And if she behaved correctly, she might catch the eye of some othergentleman and that would end their interest. Not Crossworth, it seemed, for he still glared at her.
But there were others here who would watch her match with Kirkwood. So she would have to be demure. Meek. And let Kirkwood win, just as her father suggested.
“That was an excellent show, Miss Lockhart,” Kirkwood said as he stepped up to her at the end of the alley. “I was mightily impressed by your final shot.”
She looked up at him. He seemed genuine in the compliment. Probably trying to soften her up for the battle to come. No, not a battle. She was letting him win, after all.
“I certainly cannot compare to you,” she choked out.
His brow wrinkled and he opened his mouth, but the footman arrived with their balls for the game and the crowd gathered closer.
“You have the rank, my lord,” she said, inclining her head.
“A gentleman always defers to the lady,” he replied. “Please.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. He wanted her to go first. Out of politeness or because he wanted to see her shots to know what he needed to do. A good strategy, honestly, but one that irritated her once more when it came to him.
“Thank you,” she managed to choke out with a false smile. “How kind.”
He made that little sound in the back of his throat again, almost a chuckle that she doubted anyone else could hear. She stepped up to the line at the beginning of the alley, set her ball down and drew a breath. Let him win.
She knocked the ball with the mallet and it rolled forward with just half the strength that she had used in the prior game. There was polite applause as she stepped aside and Kirkwood took his place on the line. He shot her an odd look, then swung his mallet and hit the ball with a crack. It rolled and she frowned as it stopped just barely farther than her own.
They moved forward together, the crowd on either side of thealley doing the same. “You can best him, Clarissa!” Marianne called from the side with a wide smile. “Do it for the honor of the ladies!”
