The Heiress Hunt (The Fifth Avenue Rebels #1) - Joanna Shupe Page 0,3

as it had to her. He’d moved away without any warning, with no goodbye. He hadn’t even written her a letter in all this time.

“Shall we play?” Kit pointed to the court.

She cleared her throat. “I’m ready if you are.”

Harrison shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “I’ll pour some coffee and switch out with Kit in the second set.”

“There’s no need for that,” she said. “I’ll play you both.”

Harrison blinked several times, and Kit slapped him on the back. “You’ve been gone a long time, pal. She’s better than the two of us combined, trust me.” He wandered off to select a racket, leaving Maddie and Harrison alone.

“You look well,” he said.

“Thank you. I was sorry to hear about your father.”

The edge of his mouth hitched because they both knew better. “Were you, really?”

“No. He was not a nice man. I daresay Hell is grateful to have him.”

Harrison chuckled. This was familiar territory, with bits of her old friend showing through in his amused expression, and the knot between her shoulder blades eased somewhat. “Pick up a racket. Let’s get started.”

The three of them soon stood on the court, with Maddie on one end and the men on the other. “You may serve first,” she told Kit. “I need to work on my return.”

Kit hit a slow serve that Maddie sent up the line for a winner. Harrison whistled. “Excellent shot, Mads.”

The forgotten nickname nearly caused her to trip. Only Harrison had ever called her Mads. She didn’t respond, and there was no more discussion for the next twenty minutes as play went back and forth. She focused on her swing, perfecting the spin and angles that made lawn tennis so exciting.

“So, Maddie,” Harrison said between points. “Tell me about this duke of yours.”

The question surprised her, and she bounced the tennis ball several times while considering a response.

To be precise, Lockwood wasn’t her duke—at least not yet. When the Duke of Lockwood took New York society by storm in March, Maddie’s mother reminded her of their agreement—that it was time for Maddie to choose a husband. After all, a fourth season was practically unheard of, even if the reason for not settling down was justified. Everyone knew that an English duke was the most powerful aristocrat save the queen, so Lockwood became the catch of the season. The challenge excited her, with the title of duchess as the final prize. She wasn’t alone, however; the matchmakers went into a tizzy to get their daughters near the duke.

Maddie angled to attend several dinners where the handsome Duke of Lockwood was a guest, and the two of them got on well together right from the start based on a shared love of the outdoors and sporting pursuits. Since then, their relationship had blossomed and they now went driving in the park every Monday at four o’clock. Rumors of a betrothal raced through Fifth Avenue receiving rooms, and Maddie had every confidence she would soon receive Lockwood’s ring.

When that happened, she would become a duchess and go on her own grand adventure across the pond. What more could a girl in her position possibly ask for?

Still, she and Harrison had never discussed other women or men in a romantic sense. The topic had been avoided, though she’d always assumed he chased bosoms and bustles, as had every other young man of her acquaintance back then.

He left and slept with half of Paris. Why should you feel the least bit awkward in discussing your future husband?

“He’s a bit of a bore,” Kit said, sotto voce, when Maddie didn’t speak up.

“He is nothing of the sort.” Maddie lifted her chin as she readied to serve the ball. “His Grace is kind and intelligent, a good conversationalist. We share many of the same interests.”

“He’s a hunting and fishing sort of chap,” Kit said to Harrison. “Probably has hounds that chase foxes.”

He did, actually. Lockwood had explained the practice to her one afternoon. She served the ball, starting the point.

“Sounds awful,” Harrison remarked and hit a return to the left side of the court.

Maddie’s skin prickled with irritation and anger. No one had the right to disparage Lockwood, least of all Harrison, a former friend who’d dropped her like a roll straight from the oven when he left town.

Before she could stop herself, she sent the ball whizzing toward his head.

He dove for cover and hit the ground, his chest flat on the grass, as the ball sailed over. “Good God, Maddie. What on earth