“Surely you won’t be as cruel as your sister and disobey us at every turn,” said Mama.
Katherine turned to the brambles and closed her eyes. She’d done what she could to distract Mama, and Benjamin had wasted the opportunity. A hand at her elbow testified that someone still paid her mind, though she didn’t look to see who it was. Benjamin and Mama bickered back and forth before their voices grew distant as he finally tried to escape and she followed after.
“So, it looks as though we need baskets for two,” said Mr. Archer with a strained tone while Miss Hooper said nothing. “We shall return once we’ve fetched them, Miss Leigh.”
Katherine kept her face turned to the brambles and nodded, reaching for her own trugs.
Footsteps moved behind her, and she hazarded a glance over her shoulder to find the pair walking off together. Her heart sank to her toes, leaving an aching void behind. If anyone bothered to look at her, Katherine knew they would see the pain etched in her gaze and the tightness of her lips. But no one ever did—except Mr. Archer and his attention was currently fixed on the young lady at his side.
Glancing about the area, Katherine moved deeper into the brambles, weaving between the massive bushes until she was well and truly hidden from view. It was one thing to know Mr. Archer was pursuing better candidates for his Mystery Lady, but it was another thing altogether to witness his attempts, and Katherine’s heart couldn’t bear another beating today.
***
“Oh, dear!” said Miss Lyons as the shuttlecock fell to the ground once more. “I am such a dunce.”
David forced himself to smile, despite wishing to agree with her (which was not a very kind thought at all). Shaking the stiffness in his shoulders, he waited while the young lady fetched it and hit it back at him. The shuttlecock flew at him with such accuracy that her innate skill was quite clear, no matter how she pretended otherwise.
They managed a few volleys before she swung in such a wide arc that she was more likely to strike herself than the shuttlecock, and when it fell to the ground once more, she stamped her foot.
“I am such a goose, Mr. Archer,” she said with a pout. “I fear you have chosen a poor partner.”
That was certainly true (though not in terms of this game); however, David wasn’t about to say it aloud.
Spinning the battledore in her hand, Miss Lyons cocked her hip and tipped a smile up at him. “I do think I am holding this all wrong. Can you show me your technique?”
David drew in a deep breath and held onto his affable expression. As irritating as her feigned ineptitude was, he couldn’t hold it against the poor girl. Plenty of ladies adopted a helpless facade to appeal to a gentleman’s pride, and as plenty of beaus prized that sort of behavior, David couldn’t blame women for attempting it—even if he found it irritating.
Surely, anyone who required such delicate handling was hardly a wife worth having. Miss Leigh would hardly stoop to such methods, as her handling of Mr. Moody had made quite clear. David had enough ladies in his life who truly required his assistance that he couldn’t imagine choosing to marry another.
Lifting the racket, he showed his hold on the handle, and Miss Lyons fawned over the display as though he were Hercules of old, having just completed one of the infamous labors of legend.
“But I fear I cannot seem to mimic it,” she said with another coy smile. “Perhaps you can position my hand for me?”
Drawing closer, he stood before her, but the young lady gave a little huff.
“I cannot see it properly,” she said, shifting so that she was standing with her back pressed to his chest. Glancing over her shoulder up at him, she asked, “Now, how do I do it?”
Miss Lyons was a pretty girl, and having her stand so close was not an unpleasant experience. But as she stepped into him, David couldn’t help but wish there was some space between them. The bluntness of her attentions wasn’t disagreeable—for determination was to be applauded—but something about it had his insides squirming.
“There you go,” he said, stepping away and hurrying to take his place.
Miss Lyons swung the racket, her gaze fixed on him with a smile that attempted to blend innocence with invitation, though it failed with the former. With a quick hit, he sent the shuttlecock towards her, and she struck it with ease, sending it back to him.
“A hit, a very palpable hit!” called Miss Lyons.
Was the girl flirting using Shakespeare? And choosing a line from the tragic end ofHamlet, of all things? She beamed as though she’d won the game, but David suspected it was because Miss Lyons believed herself to be winning something other than their match. Unfortunately, her display only proved she was not entirely as senseless as she claimed to be.
Miss Lyons was far more intriguing than Miss Hooper, but only in that the latter had refused to speak more than two words the entire half-hour they’d spent together. His Mystery Lady was no shrinking violet, so it was clear that Miss Hooper did not fit the bill. Miss Lyons, on the other hand, displayed all the confidence but none of the wittiness or intelligence.
They continued for several more minutes, but thankfully, another pair were waiting nearby for their turn at the game, and David was able to use it as an excuse to finish.
“Isn’t the weather magnificent?” asked Miss Lyons as she took his arm. “Though it is unseasonably chilly for September, don’t you think?”
David smiled to himself at that second question, though he thoroughly agreed with the first.
The sky was the bright blue one saw only on the sunniest of days, and not a single cloud marred its perfection. The day looked as though it ought to be stifling, but the slight nip of autumn kept them from being overheated whilst the sun above kept them warm enough to enjoy the outing. And the grass at their feet gleamed with the last vestiges of summer, giving one final push before giving way to the coming winter.
“It is quite fine,” he said before grasping at anything more interesting. “Do you read, Miss Lyons?”
