The Duke of Ford looked at his younger sister as if she had just suggested they set the manor house on fire for entertainment.
"Absolutely not," Rowan said.
He dropped the heavy wooden bowling ball. It hit the soft grass with a dull, heavy thud and rolled a few inches before coming to a stop near his polished leather boots. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, matching her defiant stance.
"I am not playing this game, Ines," Rowan stated. His voice was firm, carrying the absolute authority of a man who was used to giving orders and having them obeyed instantly. "I have estate ledgers to review. I have letters to write to the magistrate. I have..." He cast around for another excuse. "I have a lot of things to do. I have sheep to count."
Ines did not move. She stood directly in his path, her bright green silk skirts whipping around her ankles in the brisk wind. She tilted her chin up.
