The morning following the disastrous target practice brought a brisk, unpredictable wind to the sprawling gardens of Hamilton House. It was a mischievous, invisible force that rustled the old oak trees, sent loose leaves dancing across the manicured lawns, and made standing perfectly still an entirely impossible task for the ladies in their wide skirts.
Ines absolutely loved this kind of weather. It felt alive. It swept away the stale air of the drawing room and forced everyone to wake up.
"We shall play lawn bowls today," Ines announced to the group gathered on the wide stone terrace after a remarkably quiet breakfast.
She stood near the stone balustrade, wearing a bright green day dress that fluttered wildly in the breeze. She looked like a general commanding her troops, her hazel eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and determination.
