She held out her hand to Tillie. “What a remarkable show of your skills today, Miss Wickham. It’s a shame women don’t compete professionally in tennis, because you can hold your own on a court.”
“Is August going to be alright?” Tillie whispered.
“He might have a broken nose, but he seems to be in fine spirits.” She turned to Russell, who was looking surprisingly contrite.
“Please know I didn’t deliberately try to maim you,” Russell began. “It was instinctive. But allow me to say I was quite amazed by the backhand you used to return Tillie’s serve. You may turn out to be a formidable tennis opponent one day, if you take to practicing, of course.”
“Encouraging words indeed coming from you, Mr. Damrosch, but I have to admit the backhand I used was simply a defensive gesture, and it would have been more amazing if I’d hit it hard enough that you wouldn’t have been able to return it, which would then have spared August a broken nose.”
“I should go speak to him.”
As Russell and Tillie hurried around the net to speak to August, who was now sitting up as Hannah continued fussing overhim—something they both seemed to be enjoying, which was rather curious since blood was involved—Gwendolyn caught sight of Priscilla and Samuel running across the court. She smiled and kneeled when they reached her, accepting the hug Priscilla gave her and grinning when Samuel gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder.
“You got beat,” Priscilla said.
“I can’t argue with that.”
“But you didn’t start crying,” Samuel said, as if that were worthy of a badge of honor.
“I would never cry over something as trivial as a game of tennis.”
“Everyone was cheering for you,” Priscilla proclaimed.
“The cheering might have been why Miss Wickham and Mr. Damrosch really turned up the heat on your last two games,” Oscar said, stopping beside Gwendolyn and sending her a grin. “But you did put some impressive effort into staying in the game, Miss Brinley, as did Mr. Ryerson.”
“I’m of the belief you actually won the day in the end,” Walter said, strolling up to join her. He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I couldn’t help but notice your oh-so-subtle matchmaking efforts before the game. I felt you were wrong when you said Hannah was suited for someone with a romantic, chivalrous nature. But after August saved you from a tennis ball that would have certainly hit its mark, something that left Hannah looking at him in awe, well, it was clear you were quite right.”
Gwendolyn glanced to where Hannah and August were now beaming at each other, although it was hard to tell for certain if that’s what August was doing, because he had a towel pressed up against his nose, obscuring his face. “Two birds with one stone there,” she said as Phyllis Duveen, with Adelaide by her side, hurried up to join them.
Given the worry etched on Phyllis’s face, Gwendolyn reached out and took hold of her hand, giving it a squeeze. “There’sno need to look so concerned, Phyllis,” she began. “I’m not upset we lost. In fact, I’m unbelievably relieved August and I survived the match.”
Phyllis’s grip tightened on Gwendolyn’s hand. “I thought you handled yourself magnificently on the court, dear. You were very gracious and never suggested the match be forfeited, which shows you and August are possessed of great fortitude. The match, however, is not why I’ve come to speak to you.”
“It’s not?”
“I’m afraid not.” Phyllis blew out a breath, exchanged a worried look with Adelaide, then caught Gwendolyn’s eye. “Forgive me for being the bearer of bad news, but I feel it’s better to warn you than have you get taken by surprise. Your grandmother, Opal Brinley, is here.”
Gwendolyn blinked. “She’s already in Newport?”
“Indeed, and worse yet, she’s here at the Newport Casino.”
Twenty-Seven
Walter immediately exchanged places with Adelaide and took hold of Gwendolyn’s arm. “Allow me to escort you home. My driver can pick us up at the entranceway so there’ll be no need for you to get near your grandmother.”
Gwendolyn’s nose shot into the air even as she shook her head. Her refusal of a speedy retreat wasn’t exactly a surprise. If he’d learned anything about her, it was that she didn’t shy away from contentious situations.
That thought had been reinforced by Catriona as she’d regaled him and the children with stories of what he assumed were her more respectable misadventures, ones that were always rectified by Gwendolyn stepping in and setting matters to rights, no matter what odds she had to face down to do so.
“While that’s kind of you to offer, Walter,” Gwendolyn began, drawing him from his thoughts, “if you’ll recall, I drove myself here using one of Mrs. Parker’s horses and a wagonette. We also promised the children the treat of an ice cream, and I have no intention of denying them that treat. However...” She glanced at the children and smiled. “Our treats will needto wait for just a bit, because I feel the most compelling urge to have a word with my grandmother.”
Priscilla wrinkled her nose. “You don’t look like you’re going to have a nice word with her, Miss Brinley. Don’t you like your grandmother?”
“An interesting question, Priscilla, and one I can’t give you an honest answer to, because, frankly, I don’t know the woman. But that’s a story for another day.” She handed her racquet to Oscar. “Would you be so kind as to watch over this for me? It may be best if I don’t have a readily accessible weapon on hand for the foreseeable future.”
“I thought that’s a tennis racquet,” Samuel said, peering at the racquet as if he thought it might suddenly turn into a pistol.
“It is indeed a tennis racquet,” Gwendolyn returned. “ How silly of me to suggest otherwise.”
