Lady Annabel jerked her gaze back to Charlotte. “Nonsense. I never met him before yesterday. Miss Somerset’s best chance now is to make another match. Lord Wrexley isn’t a marquess, of course, but in such desperate circumstances, an earl will have to do.”
“I only hope Lord Wrexley will do for Lady Chase,” Charlotte muttered. “She was so delighted Iris was to become a marchioness.”
“Well, I daresay two countesses are nearly equal to one marchioness.” Lady Annabel nodded at Violet. She’d accepted Lord Derrick’s arm, and the two of them were walking toward a folly at the far side of the garden. “There’s something afoot with those two, as well.”
“What?” Julian gazed after Violet with a look of dawning panic. “Don’t tell me Lord Derrick is enamored of Violet?”
“Oh, no. Not to worry, Captain West. He isn’t.”
Julian blew out a relieved breath. “Good, because two complicated love affairs is more than enough for one house party—”
“I saidhe’snot enamored ofher, Captain West.” Lady Annabel took a calm sip of her tea. “I didn’t sayshe’snot enamored ofhim.”
Julian stared at her with horror, then covered his eyes with his hand. “Bloody hell.”
Charlotte groaned again. “It’s like a game of blind man’s bluff, with all the players bumping into each other.”
“Or a game of chess.” Lady Annabel’s gaze drifted back toward Iris and Lord Wrexley. “Perhaps this house party won’t be as dull as I feared, after all.”
* * * *
“You bounder!” Lord Wrexley exclaimed as his ball once again flew wide of the jack. “Why won’t you do as you’re bid?”
Iris watched as the ball spun off the edge of the green. “You’re throwing it too hard, my lord.”
“It’s not my throw, I assure you. It’s the jack. It keeps moving, and I’ve no idea how, because I haven’t yet tossed a ball that’s gotten anywhere near it.”
“I noticed that, Wrexley. I don’t think this is your game. Perhaps you should leave the green before you hurt someone.”
Lord Huntington’s tone was unforgivably rude, but if Lord Wrexley were irritated, he hid it under a lazy smile. “I think I’ll have another go, if you don’t mind, Huntington. Here, Miss Somerset—is this how you hold the ball?”
Iris moved closer to study his grip, then shook her head. “I believe you’re holding it too tightly, my lord. Mind the curve, as well. It controls your direction. Do you feel the curve, just here?” She took his other hand and placed it on the ball.
“Indeed I do. Is my palm meant to cradle the curve?”
“No. The ball should rest on your fingertips, like this.” She slid the ball forward in his hand, then moved his fingers into the proper place. “Haven’t you ever played bowls before, Lord Wrexley?”
Iris glanced up at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring over her head at Lord Huntington, an odd smile twisting his lips. Something about that smile made gooseflesh rise on Iris’s neck, but in the next instant his usual charming smile was back, and she was left wondering if she’d imagined the other one.
“It’s been a long time since I played. I’ve forgotten some of it, but at one time I was quite good at it. Unbeatable, even.”
“Oh, well, then you don’t need my help.”
“Men who believe they’re unbeatable invariably lose, Wrexley.”
Iris frowned at Lord Huntington, then turned back to Lord Wrexley and gave him a half-hearted smile. He’d been trying to divert her with a constant stream of nonsense since their game began, and he was great fun, but as much as she wanted to encourage his light flirtation, she couldn’t.
It was all Lord Huntington’s fault, of course.
He’d been glowering at her all morning, his fierce brows lowered over his hazel eyes in a way that could only be described as menacing. It was like playing bowls with a half-rabid guard dog threatening to pounce at any moment. At one point, when Lord Wrexley touched her hand, Iris would have sworn she heard Lord Huntington growl.
This wasn’t the grand marquess who’d so coldly dismissed her that day in Lady Fairchild’s garden. This was the man who’d burst into her bedchamber yesterday and demanded she marry him—the man whose cool hazel eyes had gone a dark, mossy green when he caressed her jaw.
Iris didn’t recognizethisLord Huntington, and she didn’t know what to make of him.
“Will you take me for a turn in the gardens, my lord?” Lady Honora took Lord Huntington’s arm. “They’re rather like a vast maze, aren’t they? I’m afraid I’ll get lost if I go alone, with all those twisting pathways.”
Lord Huntington’s gaze narrowed on Lord Wrexley for a heartbeat, as if in warning, but when he glanced down at Honora, his face softened. “Yes, of course. I’d be delighted to escort you for a short walk, Lady Honora.”
