“Do you?” Another surprise. “How did you learn?”
She pulled out a chair and settled in. “Father was forever trying to teach Hart how to play. Hart hated it. So one day I asked Father if he’d teach me. He laughed at first, but when he stopped laughing and realized I was serious, he decided it would be a lark. Hart never did learn how to play properly, poor man.” She grinned. “I, however, never lose.”
“Never?” Christian whistled. “That’s a strong word.”
“Yes. And a true one.”
“Careful. I might just begin to think you’re full of conceit after all.”
She lifted one shoulder. “It’s not conceit if it’s true.”
He gestured to the board. “By all means, then, my lady. Show me your skill.”
“With pleasure.” She rubbed her hands together.
Halfway through the game, Christian realized he was going to be beaten soundly. He and Sarah had spent the better part of the last hour teasing each other over the game. He decided to change the subject. Perhaps he might distract her.
“What’s next?” he asked. “In your lesson plan for me?”
“Trying to divert my attention, Mr. Forester?” Her alert eyes didn’t leave the board.
“Absolutely,” he replied with a grin.
She paused, stretched her arms high above her head, and continued to study the board. “I believe that would be reputation.”
“Reputation?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
“You know, reputation? A sort of popularity. What the gossips say about you. That sort of thing.”
“I can tell you exactly what the gossips say about me. Absolutely nothing.”
“Precisely, and that’s a problem. I always tell Meg, better to be gossiped about than to be ignored.”
He snorted. “Does that comfort Meg?”
“Of course not, but I have to say something uplifting. She’s my dearest friend.”
He smiled at her and shook his head. “So I’m to make the gossips’ tongues wag?”
“It’s all about making them wag in the right direction. I could give you the best clothing, teach you the best manners, and provide you with the most witty repartee, and none of it matters a pin without word spreading that you’re sought after.”
Christian groaned. “Marvelous. How on earth am I to manage that?”
Sarah’s eyes remained pinned to the board. “All you need is a young, popular,unmarriedlady to tell her young, popular,unmarriedlady friends thatyouare the catch of the Season. She must be unmarried. Hearing such gossip from the matrons is sure to send the unmarried ladies running in the opposite direction. It’s like hearing it from our mothers, I’m afraid.”
“Which is another reason why my friends Lucy, Cassandra, and Jane can’t help me,” Christian replied.
“Precisely.”
“You truly believe that will work? Spreading a bit of gossip among the unmarried ladies?”
“Of course.” Sarah shrugged. “How do you think the catch of the Season becomes the catch of the Season?”
The side of Christian’s mouth quirked up in a grin. “A coveted title, a huge estate, and lots of money, of course.”
She finally met his gaze. “No. It’s never that. Last Season the marquess was a catch because of his title, of course, but the Season before last it was Baron Bolt. And he was neither particularly rich nor particularly well titled.”
Christian rubbed his chin. He still hadn’t shaved. No valet. No proper shaving utensils. He’d long since decided that Lady Sarah was just going to have to forgive him for his beard. That’s what she got for arriving unexpected at his hunting lodge.
