She glanced over at Destry and Beatrice, who were still deep in conversation.
“So you see, Miss Brent, you must believe that Destry would never judge anyone solely by their appearance.”
“But he treated me as if I was stupid, implying I could neither count nor add.” She was all sympathy now, but still confused by his behavior.
“I ask you, Miss Brent, how anyone could think you stupid when we have seen you discuss and name plants the rest of us think of as simply green and leafy.”
Destry and Beatrice came to them. They made a foursome just as the rest of the house party arrived, except for Mrs. Wilson.
Miss Wilson held tight to Lord Crenshaw’s arm as they made their way across the lawn and Jess looked at Beatrice. Both she and Cecilia were regarding the newly matched couple with undisguised concern.
“I’d be happy to loan you a few guineas, Crenshaw, if your pockets are to let after last night’s loss.”
Destry rocked back and forth from heels to toes, his teasing good-natured, but Jess had no idea how Crenshaw would react to this most public reminder of his loss.
“I managed to find a few coins, my lord marquis,” Crenshaw replied, more formally than necessary.
“What does he mean, my lord?” Katherine Wilson asked.
In fact, Jess realized, she had not witnessed the throw of the last card. So perhaps Destry’s teasing had a point.
“Nothing!” Crenshaw’s answer was a command to silence. One that made Miss Wilson blush. Jess could tell that she wanted to move away from him but Crenshaw visibly tightened his hold on her arm. Beatrice stepped forward but before she could interfere, he did.
“Miss Wilson.” Jess drew her attention and Crenshaw’s suspicion, which was all the better. “As you may recall we are to be ladies against gentlemen. So unless you wish the ladies to question your loyalty, may I suggest you join them and move to your side of the field and leave Crenshaw to us?”
He loved the ambiguity in his words and wished Crenshaw was enough of a coward to fear him. But the baron did not shrink from confrontation, especially if it involved his fists.
With a cautious smile at Crenshaw, Katherine Wilson joined the Brent sisters and Nora Kendrick, moving to one side of the fabric wall. Jess might have been wrong but he thought she looked relieved.
Chapter Twenty-five
FROM THEN ON wagers were tossed back and forth with abandon. Several languished with no one accepting the offer.
“A guinea to the person who can name the breed of our chickens.” Lord Jess held up a coin.
No one answered until Nora Kendrick came up behind him and grabbed it.
“They are female Devon Old Pegs!”
“Never heard of ’em.” Crenshaw held up a coin. “A guinea says Mrs. Kendrick made it up.”
“My lord, they are a relatively new breed. The admiral was fond of chickens so I am more familiar with them than most ladies are.” Nora was smiling broadly and Jess could not tell if she was being honest or not.
Lord Crenshaw was convinced and admitted defeat by handing over his coin with a gracious bow.
“I think Crenshaw gave in too soon,” Belmont called out. “I wager two guineas that Nora made up that name after all.”
Mrs. Kendrick merely raised her brows and they all turned to the keeper, who rubbed his chin and then spoke.
“Cannot say I ever heard of Devon Old Pegs, my lady,” he said, “though they may exist. These are indeed a new breed but they are called Derbyshire Redcaps, madam.” He touched his forelock in apology.
“Well, at least I fooled one of you,” Nora said, not noticing the spasm of anger that twisted Crenshaw’s face before he regained control of himself.
“Let the race begin,” Lord Destry bellowed, all impatience. As restless as the chickens, Jess thought.
“No!” Beatrice objected. “First we must pick our team of hens.”
The ladies gathered by the cage as they chose their runners. Miss Wilson named them Roxie and Molly.
“Laugh if you dare,” Beatrice challenged as the ladies moved behind the fabric wall. “Roxie and Molly will race all the better for having names.”
“Not being burdened with names, ours will run like the wind,” Destry announced as Jess gestured for the fowl to be released.
“Wait! Wait!” Beatrice called out again and everyone groaned. “Can we turn them toward the finish line if they become confused?”
“Yes, but only if you are willing to touch them yourself with your own hands. No servants allowed.” Jess wondered if the will to