you wretch,’ Laura hissed, unable to look at Avery.
‘He is a stuffed shirt, as well to get rid of him for he won’t do for you, my girl. Now you have only got one mythical beast to deal with.’ He flashed his charming, mocking smile at Avery.
Laura braced herself for Avery’s crushing retort. There was silence. She risked a glance.
‘What sort of mythical beast are you imagining?’ Avery asked. He seemed faintly amused. Or perhaps that was simply the smile of a man about to knock another man’s head off. ‘I have wyverns on my coat of arms. Would that suit you, Lady Laura? Wings, scaly legs and a dragon’s head? No doubt it would be a fair contest.’
‘My goodness! That sounds like a proposal, Lady Laura.’ Bishopstoke appeared to find his own dubious wit hysterical. ‘Or a deadly insult. Shall I call Wykeham out for you?’
‘Do go away, Philip,’ Laura said with acid sweetness. ‘Or you may find that both Lord Wykeham and I will upend our teacups over you.’ He went, chuckling, leaving only Avery for her to be angry with. ‘A fair contest? What kind of creature do you consider me to be, to equal a wyvern?’
‘Perhaps they are like unicorns and will lie down at the command of a virgin.’ He watched her from beneath heavy lids, like a big cat contemplating a dead antelope and wondering if it could be bothered to get up and eat it. ‘Or no,’ he added in a low voice that would not reach beyond their little space, ‘that will not work, will it? A mermaid, do you think?’
Laura knew the symbolism as well as he did. ‘The female embodiment of lust? The creature that lures men to their doom?’ Why did he dislike her so? What was it about her relationship with Piers that seemed to anger him beyond reason? She found her hands were shaking and clenched them in her lap to still them. ‘Sending you to your doom seems very tempting, Lord Wykeham.’
‘I would like to see you try.’ He looked completely relaxed, that faint, infuriating smile still curving his lips. Those lips... No one glancing in their direction would guess he was mortally insulting her.
‘Then I would be delighted to oblige you, my lord.’ Laura got to her feet, inclined her head and swept over to join the single ladies where she could retrieve the rags of her temper unobserved amongst their self-absorbed gossip.
Avery Falconer was going to pay for his insults. Just as soon as she worked out how to punish him.
The next day was sunny and Lady Birtwell swept her guests outdoors. ‘The children need to run off their high spirits, the girls can renew the roses in their cheeks and the gentlemen may impress the ladies with their prowess at the archery butts and on the lake.’
There were canvas awnings set up in sheltered corners, with rugs, comfortable seats and footstools for the older guests and they were soon joined by the mothers who were glad to hand over their offspring to the small army of nursemaids on duty.
However, it seemed that the unmarried ladies had decided that a demonstration of their maternal suitability might be a good tactic, given that the bachelors were all assembled outside, as well. The babies were soon removed from the nurses to be cooed over and the little girls’ dolls were admired. The small boys, far less appealing with their grubby knees and tendency to fight, received no female attention and were marshalled into an impromptu game of cricket by some of the fathers.
Laura felt a strong inclination to go and fire arrows into one of the straw targets, imagining the bull’s eye painted on Avery’s chest, but the opportunity to play with Alice was too tempting and, besides, she wanted to keep an eye on how the young ladies interacted with her.
Lady Amelia had apparently overcome her scruples at being seen with a love child. Laura put that down to her success with Avery the evening before when she had held his attention for at least ten minutes before dinner and had coaxed several smiles from him. Now Amelia was posed prettily on a rug, her pale pink skirts spread about her, a Villager straw hat perched on her curls to keep the sun from her face as she helped Alice dress her doll. She kept sending sideways glances towards the lower part of the lawn where Avery, coat and hat discarded, was fielding cricket balls.
Laura strolled across and sat down next to Amelia and Alice, her own forget-me-not-blue skirts overlapping the pink muslin. Amelia gave her own gown an irritable twitch to display it better.
‘Good morning, Miss Alice.’
‘Good morning, Au...Lady Laura. Lady Amelia thinks Clara needs a new sash.’
‘I think so, too. That one is sadly frayed. You must ask your papa for a new ribbon.’ Laura turned to watch the cricketers. ‘He is working very hard.’ Avery sprinted for a high ball, jumped, caught it in one outstretched hand and sent it back, fast and true, to hit the stumps.
‘Oh, well caught, my lord!’ Amelia applauded and Avery turned and sketched an ironic bow before walking back closer to the players.
‘I wish I could play cricket.’ Alice put down her doll and watched, her lower lip sticking out in a pout.
‘Girls do not play cricket,’ Amelia reproved. ‘It is not ladylike.’
‘We could play rounders if we can find enough players,’ Laura suggested, knowing that Alice’s natural energy would not last for many more minutes of sitting on the rug being good. ‘I saw a bat and a soft ball with the cricket things.’ She counted heads. ‘Who would like to play rounders?’ she called and found herself with five girls and four other ladies. Lady Amelia remained alone on the rug, looking decidedly put out.
They moved to the other end of the lawn from the cricketers, improvised four bases with branches from the shrubbery and began to play.
* * *
After ten minutes Laura had discarded her hat, rolled up her sleeves and was poised with the bat raised as Miss Gladman threw the ball to her. She had watched her bowling and was sure this ball would be as feebly delivered as all the previous ones. It was. Laura hit it perfectly, sending it flying away over Alice’s head and towards the cricketers.
Alice ran for it, one stocking falling down, hair streaming behind her. Laura ran, too, straight for first base. Alice reached the ball and came running back, directly towards second base, which was closest to her.
‘Don’t run!’ Lady Catherine at second base squeaked.
‘Run!’ Laura ordered, picked up her skirts to her knees and sprinted. It was a dead heat. Laura hurtled into the branch just as Alice did. They both went flying.
Alice landed on her bottom, ball still clutched to her chest, hiccupping with giggles. ‘You’re out, you’re out!’
Laura, twisted, threw herself to one side to avoid the child and landed in an awkward, jarring, heap. ‘Alice, are you all right?’
She nodded enthusiastically and bounced to her feet. ‘That was such fun!’
Bless her, she doesn’t know enough other children to play games like this, Laura thought as she tugged her tumbled skirts down and began to get up. ‘Ouch!’ Her right ankle gave way under her and she sat back down with a thump.
‘Lady Laura!’ Alice dropped the ball and crouched down beside her. ‘Have you hurt your poorly ankle?’
‘Shh!’ Laura warned. ‘Yes, I must have twisted it.’
‘I will get Papa and he can carry you again.’ Before she could stop her, Alice ran off towards the cricketers. ‘Papa! Papa!’
And this time it really is twisted, Laura thought grimly as the other players, realising at last that something was wrong, gathered round her. ‘No, no, I will be all right, just a sprain, I think. Oh, thank you, Miss Gladman, I would be glad of a hand to rise.’
‘Stay exactly where you are, Lady Laura.’ Avery stood over