Page 5 of The Husband Gamble
Mr. Smythe chuckled. “No more you should, dear lady.” He cast a censorious glance at Miss Fernhill. “We gentlemen do not expect ladies to be interested in politics.”
Hythe maintained a calm visage despite a surge of rage. “I disagree,” he said, and named at least three prominent politicians whose wives were at least as capable as their lords and were well-known in Society for the intelligent contributions they made to dinner parties and soirées.
To his surprise, his opinion made an immediate difference to the quality of the conversation, with several of the young ladies disclosing that they read the newspapers and thought about what was happening on the world scene.
Their table was soon full of vibrant discussion, and those without an interest in such things gravitated to the end furthest away with Hythe, no doubt to discuss the trivia that bored Hythe to tears.
Hythe enjoyed himself thoroughly, and felt very kindly towards Miss Fernhill for setting the scene. His positive view of her was enhanced when the pair of them fell into the sort of vigorous debate he enjoyed with his sisters and his closest friends. When he had to concede her point on one issue, he could not have been more pleased.
* * *
Rilla found lunch surprisingly delightful, thanks to Lord Hythe. Useful, too. Two of the men who had shown her some attention during the morning had drifted away when the discussion turned serious, one after expressing doubt that ladies were capable of intelligence.
The day continued fine enough to return outdoors, though clouds suggested that they would not be as fortunate the next day. Lady Osbourne suggested Rilla might like to take part in a game of pall mall. She had never played before, but the rules seemed straightforward enough.
One played in a pall mall alley, with walls on either side and an iron ring set in the ground around one hundred yards distant from where the players started. One used a mallet to hit a ball towards the ring, repeating the strokes until close. Then an implement with a spoon-like end was used to hit the ball through the ring.
It was harder than it looked to achieve the right direction and force. One of the other ladies playing, Miss Thompson, also claimed to be a novice, but Rilla soon guessed that the lady was pretending helplessness, presumably to impress the gentlemen.
Rilla came last in the first four contests, trailing one of the gentlemen, a Captain Hudson. “No room for a pall mall alley on a ship, Miss Fernhill,” he said, cheerfully.
“I imagine that waves would also inhibit play, Captain Hudson,” she replied, much to his amusement.
In the fifth contest, the others had once again finished before she and the captain were halfway down the alley. “I picked the game up quickly, did I not?” crowed Miss Thompson, whose combined scores made her third overall.
“I bet she is her village champion,” muttered Captain Hudson. Rilla agreed, but pretended she hadn’t heard.
Miss Thompson marched off on the arm of the overall winner, and the remaining couple came to let Rilla and Captain Hudson know they were going in out of the cold.
“Go ahead without us,” Captain Hudson said. “Miss Fernhill and I have to find out who wins last place.”
“It is a fight to the finish,” Rilla agreed.
The other couple stayed to applaud each stroke, cheering when a wild stroke of Rilla’s bounced off the alley walls and groaning when the captain’s ball shot past the edge of the ring.
In the end, the captain finished first, but Rilla was only one stroke behind him. The other couple clapped, Rilla curtseyed, the captain bowed, and they all laughed.
A few spots of rain hurried their steps, and they left the alley behind in favour of a warm fire and a hot drink.
Captain Hudson, Rilla concluded, was a pleasant gentleman. He could laugh at himself, and he saw right through Miss Thompson. Rilla had no objection to a half-pay officer, though there was always the risk—presumably Captain Hudson would say the hope—he would be called back into service.
Did she want a husband in the armed forces, who was away more than he was at home?
This is only the first day of the house party, she reminded herself. She had plenty of time to consider that question. Which would not even be a question if he was simply being polite to the lady he had inadvertently been stuck with at the end of the pall mall alley.
However, when she came back downstairs after taking off her outer garments, he waved to catch her attention as she entered the drawing room. He had hot chocolate and cake waiting for her on a low table next to the chair he had been holding ready for her.
Surely that meant he was interested in pursuing the acquaintance?
He seems to be a nice man. He is a possibility. Then her eyes drifted to the man who had just come through the door. Lord Hythe. Her heart gave a bound. Stupid heart. Lord Hythe was not for the likes of her.
* * *
After lunch, Lord Hythe took one of the newspaper-reading maidens rowing on the lake, since the day was still fine enough for the exercise. Again, it was not a success, this time because of her opinions. She was happy to share with him her conviction that the lower classes needed a firm hand as they were predisposed to laziness and immorality, that showing leniency to thieves simply because they were children would lead to an increase in crime, and that extending the franchise would lead to anarchy and chaos.
It soon became clear that her views were a direct reflection of her father’s and were not up for discussion. He wanted a wife who could think for herself, and he certainly didn’t want an arch-Tory who was against everything he stood for.
He managed to remain civil, but was delighted when a few drops of rain heralded a shower, and he could pull back into the bank and escort her to the house. He remembered to thank her politely for her company. He would not be seeking it again.
