The object of his interest looked at her sister, then back at him.
“I’m sure we were both thinking of the picnics we had as youngsters, consisting of a bread, cheese, and an apple. We used to pretend it was a feast just for fun.”
“In that case, I am sure you will be delighted by my cook’s idea of picnic food. Also, there are proper facilities in the pavilion, and if your parasols aren’t protection enough for your fair skin, we can always go in there to get a break from the sun.”
With the three of them settled down and drinking barley water, the match began. Almost at once, Jasper was kept busy answering their questions about the rules. He explained who the favored players were, identified old Mr. Lord at one end, watching as he always did, and soon had the women cheering at the correct moment of play.
The only blight was when he had to ask the men beside him to keep it down for becoming rowdy.
“There are ladies present,” he said, sending them a quelling glare.
“There shouldn’t be,” one said, and Jasper handed his glass to Rigley who stood by his elbow before rising to his feet. In two steps, he was nose-to-nose with the lout.
“And why not? Don’t you think I would rather keep company with their beauty than have to look at your homely visage?”
A younger man next to him started to laugh. “He’s got you there, Will. You are a muffin-faced squab, you must admit!”
The squab in question turned red in his muffin-face, but then he glanced past Jasper to the ladies whom he knew were watching.
“Apologize for being loud,” Jasper ordered him. “And tell them they are most welcome at Lord’s.”
The man hesitated, but then he sniffed and tugged his jacket.
“My apologies, ladies, for my rough language. And it’s ... it’s nice to see you here.”
His younger friend broke out into gales of laughter, but Jasper was satisfied and backed down.
They were treated to several guest players for the match, although this meant nothing to the Sudbury sisters, as he’d come to think of them under his protection. The rest of the afternoon was spent enjoyably. Everything in the picnic basket — the pigeon pie and cold lamb, bread and jam, and currant cakes — was perfectly acceptable. Declared a fine feast, indeed.
As he hoped, Marylebone Cricket Club beat St. John’s by four wickets. When they packed up, about to head toward the carriage at the edge of the field, suddenly, another merry party crossed their path. To Jasper’s dismay, by surprising coincidence, the Viscountess Chandron, overly dressed and most would say inappropriately so for the time of day, was at the center.
Even more surprising was her frank stare, both at him and at the Sudbury sisters. As befitting each of their ranks, Miss Sudbury, while not looking the least bit pleased to run into the wife of the man who had assaulted her, gave a curtsy first. However, when the viscountess should have returned a greeting to the Countess of Worthington and to himself, she instead gave a cunning smile.
“Bothsisters, Marshfield?”
Stunned, not believing she could mean what her words implied, not in public, he said nothing.
Then she settled her narrowed glance on Miss Sudbury’s sister. “I gather you enjoyed yourself at my home,” she said.
However, the Countess of Worthington shook her head, plainly puzzled. Before she could say anything more than “I believe you are mistaken,” Lady Chandron gave her the shoulder, letting her group of hangers-on surround her again as she walked away.
Everyone in his circle knew the viscountess was a piece of work, but she usually kept her vulgarity hidden within her boudoir.
Lady Worthington looked at her sister and then at him.
“What a strange woman? I’ve never met her before. I wonder why she thought I was ever in her home.”
“The last ball I attended was at Lord and Lady Chandron’s home,” Miss Sudbury explained, “and I’m sure it was my relation to you that got me in the door. More than that, I cannot say, as I don’t think I spoke a word to her.”
Yet her glance darted toward him. Clearly, Miss Sudbury was unsettled. He wished he had some comforting words, but he knew she wouldn’t want him to mention the viscount’s attack in front of her sister. Nor was he certain why she seemed on edge regarding the viscountess, unless she was affronted by the improper innuendo behind the woman’s words.
And then he thought no more about the Chandrons as he helped the ladies into his carriage.
“We are firm converts to the joys of cricket,” the countess said. “The physicality of the sport, the speed of the runners, and how hard they could throw and hit the ball, it was all very exciting.”
“It was,” Miss Sudbury agreed. “Yet without your tutelage, sir, on where the trig was and who the colt bowler was,” she added, trying out some terms he’d taught them, “it would not have been nearly so enjoyable.”
He couldn’t help smiling. “It was my pleasure to introduce you both to the game.”
