Chapter Three
The next afternoon, Mattie had a difficult time concentrating on pall mall to the point she kept losing. Every time she swung her mallet, she was certain she heard Markham nearby, and would look for him instead of the small wooden ball she was supposed to hit through the arch. In doing so, the ball invariable went in the direction she looked, missing the arch widely.
Clara was waiting for her when she finished her turn. “Who has you jumping like a locust?”
“No one.” She barely got the words out before again visually following the sound of his voice, only to discover it still wasn’t him.
“You’re a horrible liar. Now, who among our party is missing? Of the single men, that is. How about…no, he’s there. Maybe…no.”
Mattie folded her arms across her chest. “Must you go through each and every one? This is very droll.”
“Then tell me who you hope to see.” Suddenly, Clara’s eyes widened as she looked over Mattie’s shoulder. She gasped. “Markham? Oh, Mattie, no!”
“Why not? What’s wrong with him? We know he hasn’t done those things he’s accused of.” She didn’t let on her continued thoughts. He was so handsome, so very charming.
“I thought you were embarrassed when he overheard your parents last night. Won’t he be leery about talking to you now?”
“I can’t believe them, boasting about something that hasn’t happened. They sounded like they sought to improve their station, but they’re already peers. I wanted to hide. Markham was so good about it, though.”
“Of course he was. That’s Markham’s way. Now, smile like you’re surprised to see him and haven’t been talking about him.” Clara put on the most glaringly polite face and spoke over Mattie’s shoulder. “Markham, do you wish to join us?”
“In truth, I sought Ringley, but I see he and my sister are deep in conversation. I’d love you join you ladies.”
Clara held out her mallet. “Use mine. I was about to get a bite to eat. Have fun, you two.”
Markham took the mallet and watched her walk away. “Tell me she hasn’t been enlisted by your parents to push you in my direction.”
“Of course not! Please, can we forget what they did?” Her scheme was becoming more difficult by the hour. She must flirt subtly so he fell in love, rather than flee.
“I thought I had forgotten. Now, which color am I?”
He collected their balls and handed her one. Mattie took her turn first, and was surprisingly better than the last round. Now that she knew where Markham was, she came much closer to concentrating.
Still when he walked past and she caught a whiff of his soap, she wanted to lean closer for a better sample. He wore no cologne, which surprised her for a man of his station. Maybe surprise wasn’t the right word. Markham was unpretentious, so of course he didn’t bother with fripperies.
When her turn came again, she focused on the arch a short distance away and swung the mallet just so. It went in! “Ha! That’s three blows. I doubt you can do as well.”
“We shall see.” His ball hit a tuft of grass and went astray, requiring him to take a fourth blow. When he finally found the arch, he laughed and picked up the balls. “I bow to your superiority, Lady Matilda.”
Just when she was going to ask if he wanted to play another round, a footman approached. “The duchess requests everyone join her in the drawing room for charades.”
Without thinking, Mattie wrinkled her nose.
“You don’t enjoy the game?” Markham asked.
“I’m awful. No one can interpret my moves. It as if my body was speaking Greek.”
“Well, I learned Greek, but I don’t care for the game, either. What shall we do instead? Not everyone will be in the drawing room, so we won’t be missed.”
Myriad ideas rushed through her head, most of which she had to let scurry on. The maze, for example. Perfectly enjoyable, but certain to encourage her mother’s dreams of a wedding. Whatever they did, it must be in sight of the house. “Why don’t we walk through the garden. I haven’t seen it in a few years.”
Markham bowed formally and then offered his arm. Mattie placed her hand just so on his sleeve as if she was being escorted to meet the Queen. The image made her laugh.
“What do you find so humorous?”
“It’s silly. I pictured you in a wig, breeches, and stockings, and me in a wide-skirted gown, both of us with powdered hair, approaching the Queen on her throne.”
He shook his head. “Where do these ideas come from?”
“I don’t know. Do you think my problem with charades is that all my make-believe happens in my mind?”
Now Markham laughed. “You’re just as silly as you were when you were young.”
“I’m twenty-three, not an old crone. Or a spinster.”
He stepped aside to let her pass between two topiaries. “You are nowhere near a crone’s age. A spinster, however…”
She spun around and pointed at him while walking backwards. “You are older and unmarried. It’s unfair that no one chides men for waiting.”
“Believe me, I hear often enough that I should consider starting a family.”
“Why haven’t you?” she asked boldly—then tumbled backwards over a statue of a swan. She squealed.
Markham’s lips were pressed tight as he bent to help her stand, his eyes sparkling with humor. “Are you injured?” She’d swear the cough that followed was meant to cover laughter.
“If I were, would you miss me at the ball tomorrow night?” When she found her footing, she retied the ribbon at her waist so she wouldn’t see his expression.
“Of course. You dance elegantly, but I fear that with all the guests arriving this afternoon, there will be so many young men asking to stand up with you, that I won’t have a chance to do so.”
Her heart lightened and she caught his gaze before continuing their walk. “You could rectify that now.”
He picked up a pebble and tossed it into the lavender bushes beside the walkway. “I suppose I could. But you’ve danced with me so many times, I wouldn’t want to deprive the other young men their opportunity to enjoy the pleasure.”
Mattie swung her head so quickly to see his expression, she nearly stumbled once more.
Markham’s laugh rang out. “Oh, the look you give me. You’re too easily goaded, Mattie. You must guard yourself before someone takes advantage.”
No one else ever goaded her, though, and no men teased the way he did. If she ever accepted the fact he didn’t want to marry her, she’d be spoiled for other men. None of them could live up to Markham.
Hanging from a tree branch ahead was the swing she and Lavinia played on as children. “Look!” She trotted to it and sat, kicking her feet up.
“I take back what I said about you being too old to be an eligible bride.” He stopped in front of her, his hands on his hips.
“Be quiet and push me.”
He shrugged and circled the tree, staying out of reach of her half boots. Pushing her shoulders, he sent her drifting forward. “Do you miss your childhood so much?”
“No, I enjoy dancing and the opera more than I miss swinging, or playing hopscotch.” And being an adult allowed her to enjoy her time—what little there was—with Markham so much more. He barely noticed her when they were young.
After a few minutes, Markham asked, “You never said who you needed to kiss to win.”
“My, how curious you are about who I plan—er, planned—to kiss. Are you envious?”
“Of course not. I’m merely curious how the minds of young ladies work. What draws you to a man?”
He’s about your height, your hair color, has your smiling, expressive eyes… No, she had to steer this conversation away from there. “The object of the game was to kiss someone we didn’t want to.”
“And you chose among my friends? What’s wrong with any of us?” His pushes grew a bit harder.
“The entire point was they had to be someone our parents wouldn’t approve of.”
“Was I included in your list of men you didn’t want to kiss?”
Quite the opposite. “Lavinia forbade that. She didn’t want to picture any of us kissing you.”
“I see.”
“If you and your friends had made a list like that, who would have been on it?”
“You believe there were girls we didn’t want to kiss? You don’t have brothers, that’s obvious.”
“Would you avoid kissing your sister’s friends?”
“How did we end up here, anyway?” Markham asked. “Let’s talk of something else.”
She refrained from reminding him he’d started the conversation. It was a good thing he was behind her and she was on a swing, or she’d attempt to get an answer to her question by kissing him.
Eventually a footman appeared and informed them it was time to dress for supper.
“We’ve been out here that long?” Mattie asked. When Markham eased the swing to a stop, she stood.
“Someone will have noticed. Just in case no one saw us out the window, we should have an excuse for our absence. Where were you?”
She looked around her at the plants, statues and benches. “I was revisiting my childhood. No, wait, I got lost in the maze. You heard my shouts for help and came to my rescue.”
“How long were you trapped? They’ll think I found you an hour ago and we enjoyed some time unseen. We need something better. I might have gone for a ride. You might have fallen asleep in your room.”
“Those are so dull. I’d much rather say I was tilting at windmills or facing down a dragon.” Those might not be respectable dreams for a lady, but she didn’t care. They were the most outrageous things she could think of, and she was in a mood to be outrageous.
“If you were facing down a dragon, it had better not have been in aid of my rescue. You’ll emasculate me and I’ll never recuperate.” Markham’s features were more relaxed than she’d seen in a long time. Regardless of her desire to kiss him, she was happy to be responsible for putting him at his leisure.
“Windmills it is, then,” she said.