The game of Pall Mall continued with what seemed like civility.
"After you, Lady Celine," Rowan said, gesturing to the hoop with a gallant bow.
"Thank you, Your Grace," Celine replied, tapping her pink ball gently. It rolled through the hoop with a polite little plop.
"Well done!" Aunt Margery cheered from her chair. "Fifi is impressed!"
For the first ten minutes, it was a lovely scene of aristocratic leisure. The sun shone, the birds sang, and Ines kept score with a pencil that scratched softly against the card.
Then, Delaney hit Rowan's ball into the bushes.
It wasn't an accident. She had aimed. She had squinted. And she had struck her yellow ball with a force that sent his blue ball rocketing off the course and into a patch of particularly thorny roses.
Rowan turned to look at her. His mouth fell open.
"Miss Kingsley," he said, scandalized. "You just... you just sent me into the shrubbery."
