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Jane walked over to the table where the bowls were laid out, their polished surfaces smooth beneath her fingertips. Mr. Dunsford joined her, his hands clasped behind his back in an imitation of gentlemanly leisure. “I shall bowl last because it will be more difficult. You should do your best to place your bowl near the jack.”

She smiled amiably, masking her amusement. They had not discussed who would bowl first, but she saw no need to quibble. Her focus turned back to the pitch as the duchess approached the mat, skirts sweeping elegantly around her legs. With a practiced drop, she rolled her bowl, the polished wood curving outward before arcing back and coming to rest just four inches from the jack.

Jane’s eyes widened. The duchess must possess considerable experience to send her bowl so far up the pitch with such precision. Clearly, she had played as often as she claimed.

“Well done, Annabel.” Mr. Ridley leaned down to peck his sister on the cheek, holding the brim of his hat to prevent it from toppling off.

Mr. Dunsford rubbed a hand over his jaw, his gaze fixed on the placement of the duchess’s bowl. “Her Grace has done very well. Please do not be alarmed if you cannot place yours closer than hers, Miss Davis. Just do the best you can.”

Jane nodded without comment. Taking her place at the mat, she surveyed the arrangement of the bowls and the jack with practiced precision. The lawn stretched before her, the sunlight casting long shadows over the pitch, the whisper of a breeze rustling through the nearby hedges. Kneeling gracefully, she bowed and sent her bowl gliding forward. It rolled in a smooth, deliberate arc, coming to rest a mere two inches from the target.

Mr. Dunsford walked forward, his jaw slack with disbelief.

Mr. Ridley, too, approached, squinting down at the placement before turning to call out instructions to his sister. The duchess, unruffled, picked up another bowl. With a look of determination, she returned to the mat and rolled her shot with steady elegance. The bowl curved, slowed, and settled just a hair closer to the jack than Jane’s, claiming the winning position.

As the game continued, the duchess formed a strategic head with her remaining bowls, expertly blocking any clear path to the jack. Jane studied the layout, her eyes narrowed with concentration. Then, with measured steps, she approached the mat. A hush fell as she knelt and bowled a fast run shot. The bowl sped down the pitch, striking two of the duchess’s well-placed bowls. They skidded apart, one tumbling into the ditch and out of play, while Jane’s own bowl collided with the jack. Both quivered, then rolled gently apart.

Jane quelled the grin that threatened to spread across her face. Her run shot had been quick and precise, a testament to her years of practice.

Mr. Dunsford shook his head, his beaver hat teetering dangerously before settling back into place. “Miss Davis, I believe you should have been the last to play! I hope Mr. Ridley is a poor player, for I cannot do better than you.”

“Not at all, Mr. Dunsford. I am certain you could have thrown a run shot more impressive than mine. You are stronger, after all.” Her tone was gracious, but Jane was undeniably pleased. Let Mr. Dunsford see she was a sensible young woman—one who would not dim her light to stroke a gentleman’s pride. She might forgo drinking coffee before him, but she would not restrain her talents.

The game progressed slowly, with tension building as each end was played. Eventually, the duchess and Mr. Ridley triumphed by a single shot. It had been exhilarating, neither team certain of victory until the very last play. Mr. Dunsford had performed adequately but lacked the accuracy to break apart the head Mr. Ridley had so expertly formed. That decisive move won the final point for the opposing team.

They congratulated each other with genuine smiles, complimenting notable shots before making their way back to the terrace. The sun had dipped behind the manor, casting the terrace in cool shade, and the heat of the afternoon had eased. Jane’s spirits lifted further when she saw that tea and biscuits had been laid out on a linen-draped table.

She joined the duchess, taking a seat beside her. Together, they watched the ongoing game on the third pitch, the only match still in play. The soft clack of bowls and the murmur of conversation drifted around them, lending the afternoon a pleasant, genteel atmosphere.

“I must say, Jane, I was pleased to observe that you did not restrain your skill to pander to the gentleman.” The duchess spoke quietly so as not to be overheard, nodding her head subtly in Mr. Dunsford’s direction. “Many young ladies would have done so.”

Jane sipped her tea, the delicate porcelain warming her hands. “I think there should be some honesty during courtship. I would not want the gentleman to get the wrong idea of who I am.”

“You seem quite a competitive young woman,” the duchess remarked, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Not really. I love feminine pursuits. I embroider well. I am adequate at the pianoforte. But I do not wish to be controlled when I marry. I would like a partnership such as the one my sister and Perry share.”

The duchess chuckled, the sound light and unrestrained. “I see. It was a demonstration for the young buck—that you have a mind of your own.”

“Precisely.”

“I appreciate that. When my husband and I met, there could be no doubt that I was an independent hoyden. I am still uncertain if the duke was impressed with my audacious behavior, or if he married me to protect me from my wild spirit.”

Jane tilted her head, her interest piqued. “You were audacious?”

The duchess shook her head in mock remonstration. “My goodness, I hope I am still. Perhaps more refined, but under this regal exterior beats the heart of a rebel.”

Jane giggled, the sound as light as a bell. “I would not say that I am a rebel. However, I would like a husband who respects my needs as I respect his. I wanted to ensure the gentleman noted me as an individual and not just a pretty face.”

“That is well advised. He will have to acknowledge that you are a person in your own right after the way you played today.”

“Then I have succeeded in making my point. All that remains is to discover if his pursuit continues now that he has been informed of my skills.”

As if on cue, Mr. Ridley and Mr. Dunsford joined them, teacups balanced in their hands.

“My word, Miss Davis. You play exceptionally well!” Mr. Dunsford’s youthful face shone with admiration, and Jane found his praise to be quite validating.

“I come from a large family who loves to play. We have competed on many a Sunday afternoon.”