Fiona was the only woman she recognized. They exchanged brief smiles. Since Amelia’s initial visit to the firm a week ago, they’d established a tentative friendship. At the very least, they were two colleagues working together to use Amelia’s knowledge of London’s elite to establish a business plan Fiona could take to town. It was not dissimilar to working with new debutantes to identify potential husbands, but it was infinitely more satisfying.
“I owe Benedict a ha’penny,” Fiona said. “I never thought he’d get you here.”
“I’ll give you two ha’pennies to get me out of this.”
Fiona laughed. “And deprive myself of the entertainment of seeing Lady Amelia Asterly compete on the ice? Never.”
Amelia looked around. The rest of the women ranged in age. Two girls were clearly in their teens, and yet another was an older woman with solid grey hair wrapped into a wispy bun. The only thing the motley crew had in common was the look of determination on their faces.
“Lady Amelia,” Cassandra said very properly, “this is the women’s bandy team. Ladies”—she hesitated for a second, presumably realizing that none of the women were actual ladies—“this is Lady Amelia Asterly.”
A couple of the younger girls curtseyed. More exchanged skeptical looks.
Amelia countered with the smile she reserved for those her father really wanted her to impress. She would show Benedict how charming she could be. “It is a pleasure to meet you all.”
“Do you know how to play?” the older woman asked.
“I can skate, but no, I’ve never seen a bandy match before. I’m looking forward to learning.” She wasn’t sure she was looking forward to it at all, but she’d be run over by an out-of-control curricle before she let the women see that.
“You’ll pick it up quickly,” Fiona said.
“Or you’ll break something. This isn’t really a game for your kind.” The comment came from a dumpy woman about Amelia’s age. Her clothes were thin and patched in places. Her hands were rough and cracked, and her face was mean.
A couple of the other girls sniggered.
“Goodness, you speak as though I’m a completely different species. I assure you, my limbs function exactly the same.”
Fiona gave her a tiny shake of the head, indicating there was no point trying to reason with the woman. “Just try to get that ball”—she pointed to a fist-sized knotted ball in the center of the circle—“into that net with this.” She handed Amelia a wooden stick with a curved end.
It was awkward to maneuver. Amelia swung it from side to side and almost dropped it. She tried hard to ignore the condescending glances shared between the rest of the team. Who were they to judge her anyway?
“Don’t pick the ball up with your hands,” Cassandra said. “And don’t you use your head either.”
“I think I can manage that,” Amelia said.
“The winner is the team with the most points.”
The grey-haired lady shook her head. “It’s been four years since the women have won.”
“Pardon? Four years and the men haven’t let you win? That’s not particularly gentlemanly.”
The glowering faces around her made it clear her opinion was not popular. Even Cassandra looked unimpressed.
“We prefer to work for what we have,my lady,” the grey-haired woman said. “No one gives us nothing because we happened to be born a girl.”
“Or rich,” another muttered.
Benedict had explained the political situation in the village, but she hadn’t really understood until now. All these looks, these snide comments—the aristocracy was obviously despised in this part of the country.
He’d said much of it was due to mistreatment by the Karstarks, but if that were the sole cause, they wouldn’t be so hostile toward her.
Fiona kept talking, defusing the situation. “Remember, they’ll skate at you and expect you to move because they’ll think you don’t want to get knocked down.”
“Well, they’d be right. I don’t want to get knocked down.” What sort of barbarianism had Benedict gotten her into?
“Which is why they’re going to target you. You need to stand your ground. They’ll never expect that kind of gumption from someone…who hasn’t played before.”
Hmph.
