Page 16 of Snapdragons
“Precisely.” Niles held his mallet out to her.
“You need your mallet to play,” she objected.
“If I get to the ball before you, you can simply trade back.”
The corners of her mouth lifted, and his chest clenched at the sight. “Make certain you adequately emphasize the wordifin that sentence.”
The Gents quickly took up that line of teasing. Niles wouldn’t hear the end of it anytime soon. He didn’t mind. Jesting and good-hearted taunting were as much a part of the Gents’ connection as support in times of trouble and cheering in timesof triumph.
Miss Seymour eyed the ball and the king pin, gave the situation a moment’s thought, then sent the ball sailing. To the pin. Right to it.
Shouts of “Huzzah!” and “Amazing!” rang out from them all. Her first time even attempting this game, and she’d made the perfect shot.
More than a little amazed, Niles said, “I reallyshouldhave emphasized the wordifmore in that sentence.”
She spun the mallet in her hand before holding it out to him. “Yes, you should have.”
That set them all to laughing even more.
Miss Seymour was, at least in that moment, rather fun. The trouble was, Niles didn’t know if that was a good thing or if it would only make the situation even worse than it already was.
Chapter Seven
A gentleman who had notonly agreed to the admittedly unusual terms Penelope had asked for in their marriage agreement but who also hadn’t disapproved or soured up when she had shown herself naturally adept at a sporting game? Until coming to England, Penelope hadn’t known such a gentleman even existed.
Of course, that man was also an unrepentant liar. No gentleman who had been so horribly ill as to prevent a return trip home when doing so had been a requirement of honorable and proper behavior could possibly have engaged in so physically tasking a game as the one she’d joined in with the gusto he’d displayed. The Gents had already been at the game for some time before she’d arrived. And Niles had spent the half hour of her participation running almost ceaselessly without even growing short of breath. She would be surprised to learn he’d ever been ill a day in his life.
Her attempts to sort him out were leaving her only more confused.
Penelope hadn’t been overly conversational during supper. She suspected no one had noticed. Liam might have if he hadn’t been peppering Mr. Layton with questions. He seemed quite intent on making himself one of their host’s friends. He had likely continued the effort after she and Mrs. Barrington had retired to the drawing room and the gentlemen had remained behind to have their port.
For her part, Penelope had something more pressing to attend to. “May I ask you a question, Mrs. Barrington?” She sat on the same settee as the lady. “It has the potential to be a bit of an uncomfortable and prying inquiry. But if I’m to have any hope of success while I’m here, I need to have it answered.” Mrs. Barrington looked a bit surprised, and Penelope realizedshe’d made a familiar potential misstep. “I’ve often been accused of being very direct,” she said by way of acknowledgment. “‘Frustratingly forthright,’ my mother often calls it.”
“No need to justify your forthrightness. Personally, I find it refreshing. And the other ladies attached to this group of gentlemen—Lady Jonquil and Nicolette Fortier—aren’t truly demure. Neither am I.”
Penelope liked that. She would enjoy being in company with other ladies who were similar to herself. ’Twas yet more motivation to make sense of her current situation. “Is Mr. Greenberry simpleminded?” she asked.
Everything about Mrs. Barrington’s expression said that had she been sipping tea, she would have spit it out.
“A bit too forthright?” Penelope asked.
“Unexpected more than anything,” Mrs. Barrington said.
“What was it youdidexpect me to ask?”
“I don’t know if I was set on a specific question, but I had honestly assumed you were going to ask something aboutme. People often have questions when we first meet. They hear the hint of trade in my voice and wonder what my background is. Or they notice the stiffness in my arm and wonder if it’s an old injury. Or sometimes, they detect that I have some African ancestry and wonder at that.”
Mrs. Barrington was certainly putting truth to her declaration of being very candid.
“I’m not familiar enough with the various English accents and dialects to have the first idea how to detect ‘trade’ in someone’s voice. I’d noticed a stiffness to your arm and did assume you had an injury or rheumatism. I’d like to hear about your African ancestry.”
Mrs. Barrington hadn’t been cold to Penelope or standoffish, but there was an added warmth to her after this very small but very direct exchange. “Mine is a Portsmouth shipyard family,and thetonfinds that... noteworthy.”
“And not in a delighted way, I’m to assume?” Penelope thought she’d sorted what Mrs. Barrington was hinting at.
“Far from delighted.” Mrs. Barrington gave her a significant look. “The stiffness in my arm arises from the fact that it is, in fact, a prosthesis, which I don’t make obvious because that, too, would be considerednoteworthy. And I’m sorry to say I don’t know a great deal of the details of my ancestry other than our family pride in being related to a very well-known musician from Africa.”
“Does thetonalso find that connection ‘noteworthy’?”
