The Bridgertons Happily Ever After - By Julia Quinn Page 0,14
work. He’d done a brilliant job this time, if he did say so himself. It was diabolical.
Pure genius.
“Any chance you might be capable of refraining from profanity in the company of ladies?” This, from Daphne’s husband, Simon, the Duke of Hastings.
“She’s no lady,” Anthony grumbled. “She’s my sister.”
“She’s my wife.”
Anthony smirked. “She was my sister first.”
Simon turned to Kate, who was tapping her mallet—green, which she’d declared herself happy with, but Anthony knew better—against the grass.
“How,” he asked, “do you tolerate him?”
She shrugged. “It’s a talent few possess.”
Colin stepped up, clutching the black mallet like the Holy Grail. “Shall we begin?” he asked grandly.
Simon’s lips parted with surprise. “The mallet of death?”
“I’m very clever,” Colin confirmed.
“He bribed the housemaid,” Kate grumbled.
“You bribed my valet,” Anthony pointed out.
“So did you!”
“I bribed no one,” Simon said, to no one in particular.
Daphne patted his arm condescendingly. “You were not born to this family.”
“Neither was she,” he returned, motioning to Kate.
Daphne pondered that. “She is an aberration,” she finally concluded.
“An aberration?” Kate demanded.
“It’s the highest of compliments,” Daphne informed her. She paused, then added, “In this context.” She then turned to Colin. “How much?”
“How much what?”
“How much did you give the housemaid?”
He shrugged. “Ten pounds.”
“Ten pounds?” Daphne nearly shrieked.
“Are you mad?” Anthony demanded.
“You gave the valet five,” Kate reminded him.
“I hope it wasn’t one of the good housemaids,” Anthony grumbled, “for she’ll surely quit by the day’s end with that sort of money in her pocket.”
“All of the housemaids are good,” Kate said, with some irritation.
“Ten pounds,” Daphne repeated, shaking her head. “I’m going to tell your wife.”
“Go ahead,” Colin said indifferently as he nodded toward the hill sloping down to the Pall Mall course. “She’s right there.”
Daphne looked up. “Penelope’s here?”
“Penelope’s here?” Anthony barked. “Why?”
“She’s my wife,” Colin returned.
“She’s never attended before.”
“She wanted to see me win,” Colin shot back, rewarding his brother with a sickly stretch of a smile.
Anthony resisted the urge to throttle him. Barely. “And how do you know you’re going to win?”
Colin waved the black mallet before him. “I already have.”
“Good day, all,” Penelope said, ambling down to the gathering.
“No cheering,” Anthony warned her.
Penelope blinked in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”
“And under no circumstances,” he continued, because really, someone had to make sure the game retained some integrity, “may you come within ten paces of your husband.”
Penelope looked at Colin, bobbed her head nine times as she estimated the steps between them, and took a step back.
“There will be no cheating,” Anthony warned.
“At least no new types of cheating,” Simon added. “Previously established cheating techniques are permissible.”
“May I speak with my husband during the course of play?” Penelope inquired mildly.
“No!” A resounding chorus, three voices strong.
“You’ll notice,” Simon said to her, “that I made no objection.”
“As I said,” Daphne said, brushing by him on her way to inspect a wicket, “you were not born of this family.”
“Where is Edwina?” Colin asked briskly, squinting up toward the house.
“She’ll be down shortly,” Kate replied. “She was finishing breakfast.”
“She is delaying the play.”
Kate turned to Daphne. “My sister does not share our devotion to the game.”
“She thinks we’re all mad?” Daphne asked.
“Quite.”
“Well, she is sweet to come down every year,” Daphne said.
“It’s tradition,” Anthony barked. He’d managed to get hold of the orange mallet and was swinging it against an imaginary ball, narrowing his eyes as he rehearsed his aim.
“He hasn’t been practicing the course, has he?” Colin demanded.
“How could he?” Simon asked. “He only just set it up this morning. We all watched him.”
Colin ignored him and turned to Kate. “Has he made any strange nocturnal disappearances recently?”
She gaped at him. “You think he’s been sneaking out to play Pall Mall by the light of the moon?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Colin grumbled.
“Neither would I,” Kate replied, “but I assure you, he has been sleeping in his own bed.”
“It’s not a matter of beds,” Colin informed her. “It’s a matter of competition.”
“This can’t be an appropriate conversation in front of a lady,” Simon said, but it was clear he was enjoying himself.
Anthony shot Colin an irritated look, then sent one in Simon’s direction for good measure. The conversation was growing ludicrous, and it was well past time they began the match. “Where is Edwina?” he demanded.
“I see her coming down the hill,” Kate replied.
He looked up to see Edwina Bagwell, Kate’s younger sister, trudging down the slope. She’d never been much for outdoor pursuits, and he could well imagine her sighing and rolling her eyes.