Page 90 of The Earl She Once Saved

“You will sit now.”

He obeyed. That seemed to disturb her more than if he had argued.

Win finally bribed Sergeant with a biscuit. The shuttlecock was recovered, damp and misshapen. Ezra declared it fit for duty and restarted the game.

Rafe remained in the chair. Verity stood opposite him. She watched his face between every stroke, checking for weakness while pretending to follow the shuttlecock. The attention warmed him more than the sun.

He struck badly. Whether by accident, he could not afterward have said. The shuttlecock skimmed from the edge of his battledore and dropped near the rose border.

Verity moved toward it. So did Rafe. They reached it together. He bent, one hand braced upon his knee. Verity caught the little racket at the same moment he did.

Her hand closed over his. Her palm lay warm against the back of his hand. Her fingers curved lightly between his knuckles and the handle.

Rafe lifted his head. Verity was very close. A loose strand of hair moved against her cheek. Her breath had quickened from the game. His gaze dropped to her mouth before he could stop it.

Her fingers tightened. She did not pull away. The sunlight, Ezra’s invented score and Sergeant’s heavy breathing receded. There was only her hand upon his.

Then the terrace doors opened.

“Verity.” Aunt Cordelia’s voice broke across the lawn.

Verity snatched her hand away. Rafe straightened too quickly. The garden tilted. Her hand caught his elbow.

Again.

She released him almost at once, but not before Aunt Cordelia saw.

“What is this?” her aunt demanded.

Ezra leaned toward Win. “I believe the score is about to be disputed.”

Win attempted to hand him the battledore. He folded his arms.

Her aunt descended the steps. “Mrs. Hale, have you forgotten yourself entirely?”

Win’s face closed. She lowered the racket.

“My lady, I—”

“She was invited,” Ezra pointed out.

Verity’s aunt turned toward him. “That does not make it appropriate.”

“No,” he agreed. “But her superior ability makes it essential.”

“This is not a barracks, Mr. Bellamy.”

“A pity. We were very broad-minded about battledore.”

Win looked down, but Rafe saw the corner of her mouth move. Aunt Cordelia’s gaze passed over Sergeant, the scattered rackets and Verity’s damp hem.

“The county is already talking. Romping upon the lawn with servants and animals will hardly quiet them.”

The ease went out of Verity’s face. Rafe felt it leave the garden. Ezra stepped forward, his weight settling more heavily upon his cane.

“Then we must be grateful the county has not been invited,” he declared. “Mrs. Hale was rescuing two convalescent soldiers from defeat. It was an act of mercy.”

He held out his hand for the battledore. Win gave it to him. His fingers closed briefly around hers. Aunt Cordelia drew breath to answer, but Rafe spoke first.