Chapter Fifteen

James walked arm in arm with his mother out to a chair set in the shade of an elm in the back gardens of the family’s London home. Her health had grown evermore uncertain since her arrival in Town. She was noticeably paler and hardly ventured from her private sitting room. James worried a great deal about her.

“This will be just the thing, Mother, you’ll see.” He saw her comfortably seated, then tucked a light blanket around her legs and lap.

“Lawn bowls?” Mother asked weakly, the smallest glimmer of curiosity in her eyes.

“Ben and I found the old set in the attics and thought we’d enjoy playing a game or two.”

“I am too ill to play,” Mother insisted.

James patted her hand. “I know. But we might prove entertaining, at least. You’re near enough to watch.”

Mother smiled at him with such gratitude. “I knew you would think of the perfect diversion.” She allowed the tiniest of heart-wrenching sighs. “I confess I have not at all enjoyed this trip to London. But I am trying to be optimistic, hoping you’ll think of a way to fix all this.”

“It is not so terrible as all that,” he insisted. “Miss Lancaster is a lovely person.”

“I can’t say I know enough of her to decide one way or the other.” Her earnest expression tugged at him. “I did not wish this for you, James. I know what it is to have that decision made by another. And I further know the unhappiness that comes of a marriage forced on two people who are not well suited. The late Lord Techney would hear no one’s objections. Not mine. Not your father’s. I had a dowry, and that was all that mattered at the time.”

James was well aware that his parents’ marriage had been arranged. He hadn’t realized, however, that they had both objected to it. Father had been forced by his father in order to secure money for the estate. James was being pushed into a courtship for the sake of social standing.

Billingsley stepped into the garden. He addressed Mother, as was proper, but spoke loudly enough for James to overhear, which was their established pattern. Visitors and crises and any questions of household management were always seen to by him.

“The Duchess of Kielder, Miss Lancaster, and Miss Artemis Lancaster to see you, my lady,” Billingsley announced.

James’s mind jumped into frantic action at that announcement. Mother, by some miracle, hadn’t lost her composure at the sudden arrival of the lady she believed had cost her son his happiness. James gave Ben a look meant to warn him to behave before nodding for the butler to show their guests in. He braced himself for the task ahead: keeping his family from making an already difficult situation even more so.

To his surprise, the ladies did not approach him. It seemed they had indeed come to see Mother. No one had called on her in the two weeks she’d been in Town. A visit from the Duchess of Kielder and her sisters would be a boon to anyone’s social standing but particularly so for someone with no cachet to begin with.

“I hope you will not find our unexpected visit an impertinence,” Miss Lancaster said to Mother. “Your health has been in my thoughts these past days. It is not unusual for a complaint of the throat to spread to the lungs as well, especially in the stale London air. Our apothecary here in Town swears by this particular species of mint for treating congestion of the lungs.” She held a small fabric pouch in one hand, a slip of paper in the other. “And I wrote out instructions for preparing a very effective tea.”

James stood closer to the duchess, near enough to send her a questioning look.

She answered quietly. “We called yesterday but were told Lady Techney was indisposed with a touch of congestion in her lungs. Daphne knows a great deal about medicinal herbs and brought a treatment she hopes will help.”

The gesture surprised him, though it should not have. It was hardly the first time Miss Lancaster had offered her help and kindness upon hearing of the troubled state of Mother’s health.

“Thank you, Miss Lancaster,” he said. “That is very thoughtful of you.”

“You are quite welcome.” As if uncomfortable focusing on any one person, himself included, Miss Lancaster’s eyes drifted about, not seeming to look at anything in particular.

What must that be like? James had never been timid. That Miss Lancaster continually participated in Society and managed conversations further elevated James’s opinion of her.

He wished he knew how to set her more at ease. “That is a lovely shawl.” Ladies usually appreciated when a gentleman admired their attire.

A tiny smile appeared. “It is my sister’s.” She made the admission almost as if expecting him to withdraw the compliment.

“Nonetheless, it looks very fine on you.”

Her trademark blush made a reappearance but was accompanied by an actual smile. “Thank you.”

Miss Lancaster seemed remarkably easy to please—a kind word, a simple compliment. He liked that about her.

She glanced just behind him. “We hadn’t intended to interrupt your entire afternoon.”

The irony of her concern struck him in the next moment. She worried she was interrupting his day. If a gentleman truly was courting a lady, her presence wouldn’t be an interruption in the least. He was making a muddle of everything.

“Do you need to be on your way, or would you like to join us?” he asked.

She looked to her older sister and received a nod of encouragement. But even as he and Miss Lancaster walked toward the lawn game, she seemed unsure of her decision to stay. Was this more of her timidity, or had her hand been forced?

“If you do need to go, Miss Lancaster—”

But she shook her head. Her bonnet shifted about with the movement, and she straightened it with a quick nudge of her hand. “I am afraid I am often nervous with people I don’t know well.”

He had long since discovered that about her. “If it will put your mind at ease, my brother is about as threatening as a kitten. You’ve nothing to fear from him.”

“I have found him to be pleasant company during our brief conversations. I do realize I needn’t be nervous, but timidity is not always logical.” She seemed to rally her courage. “I am happily surprised the weather is pleasant enough to proceed. Such a thing is hardly guaranteed this time of year.”

James accepted her change of topic. “’Tis hardly guaranteed any time of year. England’s weather is quite famous for its stubborn lack of predictability. The French have glory-starved emperors, and we have mercurial weather.”

“And a wide assortment of lawn games.”

James chuckled. “That is our national treasure, to be sure.”

She smiled at his quip, just as he’d hoped she would.

“Has Lieutenant Lancaster arrived yet?” he asked.

“Sadly, no,” she said. “Persephone is beside herself. One would think he was still the same eleven-year-old boy who left our home for a life in the navy instead of a seasoned sailor of twenty.”

“And does the good lieutenant appreciate being babied by his sister, or does he merely endure it?”

She pondered his question a moment. “He does make quite a show of being put out by her fussing, but I have seen him shed tears when she embraces him. Outwardly he may be a grown man of the navy, but inwardly he is still her little Linus trying very hard to be brave.”

James attempted to imagine being greeted with tears of joy rather than complaint. “You have a wonderful family, Miss Lancaster.”

“That I do.” They had reached Ben and the lawn bowls. “I should probably warn you, Lord Tilburn, that my sisters and I are particularly accomplished bowlers. We managed to convince Adam to convert a portion of the back garden at Falstone Castle into a green.” She gave him a look of obviously feigned warning. He rather enjoyed the lightness it granted her countenance. “There is no fiercer opponent in bowls than one who has played the game in the shadow of a gibbet.”

James leaned a touch closer and asked in a low voice, “Is there truly a gibbet at Falstone Castle? I have heard rumors, but one can never be sure which stories about the duke are exaggerated.”

“There most certainly is.” Miss Lancaster was rather pretty when she smiled, especially with that lone dimple drawing one’s gaze. “A gibbet and stocks. And both have been used within the past decade. They are kept in very good repair, in fact.”

“A gibbet and stocks on a bowling green?” James shook his head at the odd picture that formed in his mind.

“We take bowls very seriously.”

He could feel a smile spread across his face. “Apparently. Perhaps I’d best secure you as my partner, then, lest I find myself in the unhappy position of being your opponent.”

“That would be very wise.” Her color rose, though she did not shy away from their friendly banter.

“Prepare yourself, Ben. Miss Lancaster and I mean to slaughter you.”

Ben chuckled. “I shall simply have to find a slaughtering partner of my own. Tell me, Miss Lancaster, does your sister play?”

“They both do, though I do not believe the duchess is quite equal to it today. Artemis, however, will take up your offer with enthusiasm.”

Ben returned to the chairs where Her Grace and Mother were speaking of something and Miss Artemis was doing little to hide her boredom.

“Ben is quite good at bowls,” James warned his partner as their opponents returned, armed for battle.

“Then we must rise to the occasion,” she said. “We cannot allow our younger siblings to best us so publicly.”

James placed the first of Miss Lancaster’s bowls in her hands. “Then I shall let you in on a well-held family secret.” He attempted to look exceptionally serious. “Ben has an infuriating habit of knocking the kitty far to whichever side most of his opponent’s bowls are not occupying.”

Miss Lancaster tsked. “Then ought I to do my utmost to make that difficult for him?”

James nodded. “Obstacles always have impeded his aim.”

“Ah. The benefits of familiarity.” She adjusted the bowl, her eyes narrowing as she gazed down the lawn at the white ball awaiting her throw. “In exchange for that insight, I will inform you that Artemis is an unabashed and unrepentant cheat.”

She made her toss, the bowl’s arched path placing it a very tidy distance from the kitty.

“Another tidbit: Artemis sighs louder than any other person I know, particularly when she feels she is being bested.”

James handed her a second bowl, which she placed at exactly the same distance from the kitty as the first, only on the opposite side. A third throw came to a stop very nearly in front of the kitty, though slightly off-center.

“Ah.” James smiled. “I believe I see your strategy. To get closer than your bowls, one would have to throw around them, else risk simply knocking them closer.”

Miss Lancaster looked up at him as he handed her the last bowl. She offered another dimpled smile, something he imagined few people ever saw. It was more than lovely. Natural and open in that moment, it was rather stunning. Something about her was decidedly different today, though he couldn’t say just what. Something in her appearance, perhaps, or in her manner of carrying herself. Whatever it was, he found he liked it. She was still the same kindhearted person but with an added measure of confidence.

Only after Miss Artemis declared in a voice overflowing with sighs, “One cannot be expected to bowl with such a heartless sister as I have,” did James realize he’d missed his partner’s final throw. Her four bowls sat in near-perfect symmetry, a formidable guard around their treasure.

“A fine round,” James said, feeling pleased that she’d done so well.

“Mark my words,” she answered, her tone lighter than he ever remembered hearing it, “Artemis will find a way to undo what advantage we have.”

The prospect didn’t seem to overly alarm her. He was not expected to prevent the inevitable underhandedness nor find a means by which they could win. Miss Lancaster had, in her unspoken and calm way, given him leave to not worry for a moment—a luxury with which he had very little experience.

Miss Artemis began her turn with a truly dismal throw, followed by a very dramatic sigh.

James bit back a smile and saw out of the corner of his eye Miss Lancaster do the same.

“Sighing is one of her talents,” she said.

“More than a talent, I would say. The girl is a prodigy.” How they both maintained straight faces, James could not say. “Regardless, I do believe you have her beat.”

“Lawn games are, perhaps, the only area in which I am remotely her equal,” Miss Lancaster said.

“I take leave to doubt that.” The honest comment earned James one more fleeting glimpse of her dimple.

Miss Artemis’s remaining throws hardly improved. All James needed to do was place his own bowls in such a way as to make Ben’s usual strategy extremely difficult to implement.

Miss Lancaster handed him his first bowl. “I believe we will slaughter them after all.”

“I certainly hope so,” he replied.

He lined up his first throw.

A high-pitched yipping sound was his only warning before a blur of fur and noise dashed onto the bowling green. Mother’s latest adopted mutt had been banished to the stables for damaging the furniture in Mother’s dressing room, but its natural exuberance apparently had not abated.

James moved swiftly toward the pup. “Leave those be, you scamp.” His directives came decidedly too late. Not one of the bowls remained unmoved and the kitty resided in the fur ball’s mouth.

The pup trotted over to him quite as if he were a hound bringing his master the prize catch of the hunt.

James squatted in front of the troublemaker. “That was not terribly sociable of you.” A pair of enormous brown eyes watched him hopefully. “You’ve ruined the game, you realize.” The pup dropped the now-wet white ball into James’s outstretched hand.

Alarm pulled at Mother’s features. She would worry over having the afternoon’s activities ruined and the impression that would make on their guests. But what could he do? How was one expected to curb the enthusiasm of a puppy?

James heard someone approach from behind, the swish of skirts indicating a woman. He looked over his shoulder to find Miss Lancaster standing next to him.

“I am sorry about the game,” he said. “We would most likely have won if not for this mongrel’s interference.” He could not think of a means of salvaging the game. Miss Lancaster would be disappointed.

“I told you my sister cheats.”

He had not been expecting that reply.

Miss Lancaster shook her head. “No doubt she found some means of summoning her four-legged accomplice at the most opportune moment.”

James rose, watching her in confusion. He tried to nudge the puppy away when it began snapping at the tassel on his left boot. That was all she had come over to say to him? No complaints? No demands? “You are not too disappointed about the game?”

She laid her hand lightly on his arm and once more offered her unaffected smile. “It is only a game. There is no real harm done.”

“A level head in a crisis.” James tossed the kitty back onto the lawn and wiped the puppy slobber off his hand with his handkerchief. “That is a pleasant change.”

“Would a disrupted game of bowls generally be considered a crisis?” she asked.

He looked over at Mother still clutching her hands together in anticipation of something catastrophic. She could be very difficult when distraught. “In this house, everything is a crisis.”

“And you are always expected to rescue the others?” Miss Lancaster asked.

That was more insightful than expected. He had a feeling a response was not at all necessary.

“Might I make a suggestion?” she asked.

She wanted to address his problem? James nodded, as curious as he was surprised.

“Allow your brother to sort out the mess this time.”

He couldn’t simply walk away. “This little scamp has quite upset things.” As if to further prove his mischievous nature, the puppy continued nipping at James’s tassels.

Miss Lancaster motioned toward the end of the bowling green where Ben had already gathered the scattered bowls and seemed to be setting up another game. “Mr. Tilburn appears capable enough.”

“I should make good my escape, then?” The prospect was tempting.

Miss Lancaster nodded. “Allowing someone else to take on the responsibilities you usually undertake would probably be good for all concerned.”

James had never walked away from a family difficulty, little or great. To leave the others to address a problem felt uncomfortably foreign. Yet Miss Lancaster watched him with patient anticipation.

The situation was not in the least dire. He might allow himself to see to his own amusement for just a moment. Surely that was not asking too much.

“I, for one,” he said, “would very much like to know how this mutt will react to the sight of a shuttlecock.” James felt remarkably light as he escorted Miss Lancaster to the basket of lawn games. There was something to be said for a smile he hadn’t been required to earn.