Chapter Four

Mary had been waiting, hoping, praying, for Julian’s lips to meet hers. Against all odds, they’d found a moment of quiet during the party. Then—smack! Cold exploded against her cheek, and white obscured her vision.

She blinked away the snow as the rest of the ball tumbled down her cloak. Julian had straightened away from her and was scowling in the direction of the lawn.

“Godwin,” he growled. “I can see those mismatched shoulders attempting to skulk away. We cannot allow him to escape.”

Much as she could wish Chester to the depths of the Canadian wilderness at the moment, she had to agree. Such behavior called for retaliation. She accepted Julian’s hand, and they ducked out from under the tree and ran in pursuit.

The lawn was a battlefield. Mr. and Mrs. Garvey and their sons were lined up with backs to the pond as if to defend the skaters, while others advanced from the far side, using the trees on the east and west as cover. White balls streaked through the air. Laughter vied for supremacy with cries of vengeance. Chester stood at the edge of the melee, both hands up and calf pads knocked to the front so that he appeared to have four knees.

“It was an accident,” he declared. “I meant to hit Mayes.”

“Such things happen,” Mary allowed, bending to scoop up a handful of snow. “But turnabout is fair play.”

Chester stiffened his spine and faced straight ahead. “I will endeavor to take it like a man. Do your worst.”

Mary packed the ball, but Julian put his hand over hers. “Allow me. I was his target, and I cannot abide a slight to a lady.”

Mary intended to refuse. She was perfectly capable of hurling a snowball, accurately and with sufficient force. But Chester paled, turned, and ran.

Mary snatched her hand away from Julian’s. “After him!”

They darted between the lines, ducking under balls, dodging combatants. She was hit in the shoulder, the thigh. Her cloak was soon clumped with snow. Julian’s hat went flying. She was laughing so hard she could scarcely remain upright.

On the far side of the lawn, faced with the line of trees that edged the property, Chester turned and held up his hands once more. His face was red, and every part of him was askew, but the air of haughty sophistication had gone, and he grinned like the boy she remembered.

“Pax!” he pleaded. “I’ve been hit a dozen times in penalty for the one I threw. Can we call a truce?”

Julian glanced at Mary. “What do you say, Your Majesty? Mercy on the enemy?”

“On the enemy, never,” Mary declared, and Chester’s face fell. “But on a friend, always.”

Smiling sheepishly, he came forward and shook Julian’s hand, then bowed over Mary’s.

She twitched her cloak to dislodge some of the snow. “What are our chances of returning to the house unscathed?”

“Ten to one,” Chester said, eyeing the battlefield beyond. “In their favor.”

Julian looked from one to the other. “There’s only one thing for it—a full assault, all guns blazing. Arm yourselves well. And may I say it is an honor to go down at your sides.”

* * *

They made it to the house only slightly the worse for wear. Mrs. Garvey had quite an arm and an eye for accuracy. Godwin had managed to rescue Julian’s hat, which had a good-sized dent in the crown. He could only hope his father’s valet could reblock the thing, for he had no money to replace it or to hire his own valet as yet.

Godwin was still grinning as they entered to divest themselves of their snow-covered garments. He must have caught sight of his shoulder in the process, for he glanced from one slipping pad to the other and sighed. “If you’ll excuse me, I should see to my toilette.”

Mary caught his arm as he started past, and he looked at her askance.

“Remember who you are, Mr. Godwin,” she said. “Manners may make the man, but I have ever thought character and kindness more important. You are blessed with both.”

Cheeks turning rosy, he nodded and hurried off.

“You care about him,” Julian said.

She turned to him. “He is a longtime friend who seems to have lost his way. In such cases, I believe it a lady’s duty to help.”

“You assume he is displeased about the matter,” Julian pointed out. “Perhaps he doesn’t wish to find his way.”

“Well, better to find his character than to be forever looking for his padding,” Mary returned, and Julian laughed.

She shifted beside him, and suddenly she was closer, head tilted back to send her gaze over his head. Was she too concerned about how his hat would turn out? Or was she appealing to heaven, concerned about her future?

“Did you know he was considering offering for you?” Julian asked.

Her gaze dropped to his, brows up. “No. Don’t be ridiculous. We would never suit.”

Why did his heart lift to hear her say it? “I agree. You need someone more established.”

She eyed him. “Are you implying I need someone older and wiser to guide me?”

He felt his cravat tightening. He refused to touch the thing. “Not at all. You have always been advanced for your age. I merely thought you might be happier with a man more mature than a freckle-faced youth. Someone who can match your wit and vitality.”

She grinned. “Or at least fashion sense.”

“That too,” he agreed.

She cocked her head, a raven curl teasing her cheek. “So you told him those stories earlier to scare him off?”

Julian shrugged. “It was a calculated risk. You deserve better, Mary.”

She stepped closer, skirts a swirl of white velvet, like a snowstorm about to envelop him. “Do I? Who do you have in mind, Julian?”

Me.

The thought was so strong, he marveled everyone in the house hadn’t heard it. But, in a sense, he was no better a choice than Godwin. He might have a polished presence and some sense of fashion, but he had no income to support a wife. And his years at Eton had proven to him that only hard work and the support of his friends would ever earn him the consequence that approached what they had been granted at birth.

“Who do you have in mind?” he replied in challenge. “You mentioned you’d made your pick. I’m told many a young lady can describe her perfect groom.”

“Several of the girls at the finishing school could,” she allowed. “Some wanted dark hair or flashing eyes. Some had their heart set on a duke.”

Or a duke’s son. He could not help remembering Thalston and his cold bride.

“I thought it rather foolish at the time,” Mary continued. “Why not let fate lend a hand? Why not let love find you? I’m coming to understand that sometimes you must give fate a nudge.”

He nodded. “Such as in the case of the estate going to your cousin on your mother’s death.”

She started. “What? Who told you that?”

She didn’t know? How could her mother have hidden it from her? Did the servants not dare to speak of it?

“Your mother sought advice from my father years ago,” Julian explained, “and he mentioned the matter in passing.”

“He must have misunderstood,” she said, but the fingers plucking at the nap of her gown belied the certainty in her voice.

“Perhaps,” Julian allowed. In another situation, he would have let the matter go, but Mary needed to understand what she faced. “But Godwin mentioned the same thing earlier.”

“No.” She stepped back from him, stiffening. “No, you’re wrong. A moment with my mother will prove as much.” She turned and stalked back into the great hall, straight for her mother’s side.