Chapter Text
“I must warn you,” Gregory Bridgerton began, walking backwards up the hill as he spoke with his expecting wife. “Pall Mall is a rite of passage in the Bridgerton Family.”
Lucy Bridgerton, his wife for a little less than a year, quirked an eyebrow. “A right of passage?” Their anniversary was two months away; she was well aware of the Bridgerton family antics. After all, it was at an Aubrey Hall country party that she and Gregory met and fell in love. She knew his family was full of competitive spirits and meddling busybodies. “Is not the fact we are married and I am carrying our first child not rite of passage enough?” she teased.
“No,” Gregory said in all seriousness. “It is not.”
“Give me my mallet now, Katharine!”
At the top of the hill, by the recreational shed, stood Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton, bickering away. Kate held the Mallet of Death behind her back, dashing out of Anthony’s lurch each time he tried to catch her.
Her shrieking giggles echoed across the field, Anthony throwing his arms around his wife and trapping her against his chest. “Give it to me!” Anthony ordered once more, forehead pressed to Kate’s, a smile lingering under the stern façade.
“Never!”
Lucy chuckled at their theatrics, while Gregory simply shook his head good-naturedly. When weren’t his brother and sister-in-law chasing each other, playing games, and bickering away, all while smeared with smitten grins and adoring gazes?
Gregory knew he and Lucy would be just as energetic and love with one another by their fourteenth anniversary, as his brother was with his wife.
“I see you two are already claiming mallets,” Gregory called out.
Anthony had enough decency to loosen his hold on Kate ever-so-slightly, but she still remained in his arms, black mallet held behind her back.
“Had to get here before Colin,” Anthony answered, he shared a glance with his wife. “He is determined this time to win Pall Mall, but he’s a bit distracted.”
Just a few paces down the hill, Colin aided his expecting wife, Penelope, to a lovely shaded part of the grounds with a table set for tea. Their third child was on the way, she about ready to pop in no time. But that did not deter her from being a spectator of Pall Mall.
“Penelope is not playing?” Lucy asked.
“Pen never plays,” Kate nudged her husband off her, stepping back with warning glint in her eyes. Oh, they were no longer lovers in that instant—Kate had silently declared war upon Anthony. His brother understood, eyes narrowing sharply on her, preparing for an attack. “Typical players are myself, Anthony, Colin, Daphne, Gregory, and Hyacinth, with the occasional in-law.” She ambled over to Lucy, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Which is you! Come let’s have you pick your mallet.”
Kate led Lucy away to the Pall Mall cart, leaving Gregory and Anthony to their own devices.
“What did she do this time to nick the mallet?” Gregory asked, chuckling at Anthony’s grumpy besottedness, his eyes never leaving his wife’s form.
“Hid it in the nursey with Charlotte,” Anthony bit off. “Stuck it right under her pillow as if I would not notice!” He scoffed. “Charlotte came charging down the stairs with the damn thing, nearly hitting Miles upside the head!” Clucking his tongue, Anthony wiped a weary hand down his face. “My daughter claimed the near head injury was an accident.” Disdain dripped from the word.
Gregory laughed. Charlotte was every bit her mother’s daughter, slowly becoming a rightful menace to society. One could only hope she inherited some of her parents level-headedness.
“And how is my favorite niece?”
“Playing with her favorite uncle.”
The two looked out towards the gardens, Francesca’s husband, Michael Stirling chasing the giggling five-year-old through the tulips and roses.
Gregory scowled. He was once Charlotte’s favorite uncle, practically living in both Aubrey Hall and Bridgerton House whenever he so pleased. The two would play together in gardens, the nursery, and he’d teach her all the ways to trick her father into getting what she wanted.
Then he married Lucy. And Charlotte was not happy.
“She looks darling with her green bows,” Lucy cooed, she and Kate rejoining them. Green ribbons hung from Charlotte’s dark ringlets, bouncing with her. Not a single one fell from her little head.
“Green is her current favorite color,” Kate told them. “I am sure it will go back to blue in no time.”
“I think it will stay green,” Anthony could not help but counter. “She does seem to have a great affinity for it.”
“Then it is good luck I picked the green mallet,” Lucy swung the mallet to and fro by her feet. “In honor of my favorite niece!”
“Oh, is Lucy joining us?” Daphne called out, beaming as she ambled up the hill to join the Pall Mall party. “Splendid! You know I was just telling those two,” she waved to Anthony and Kate, “over breakfast how we simply must play! Especially for their anniversary weekend!” She gave Lucy a conspiring raise of a brow. “You know they played perhaps the most aggressive game of Pall Mall to date the weekend they were betrothed.”
Anthony scoffed. “I would not call it the most aggressive—”
“Then the most violent,” Daphne amended, rolling her eyes. “I was sure Kate was going to kill Simon!”
Gregory frowned at this. “Simon has never played Pall Mall! What are you on about?”
His siblings and sister-in-law shared a glance, just as confused as him.
“He hasn’t,” Gregory insisted. “I’ve never seen him on this pitch!” His brother-in-law refused, often leading to side splitting laughter from Colin. Though Gregory never questioned why.
“I believe you were twelve,” Anthony said with a shrug. “You probably do not remember much of that time, but Simon did play. Once.”
“And I did not almost kill him,” Kate jumped in to defend. “I simply wanted to strangle him to get my point across.”
“And what was that point?”
“That I am perfectly capable of killing him.”
Daphne laughed at this, making her way over to the cart. “He is well aware the women in this family can smite him on the spot if they so desired.” She plucked the blue mallet from their collection. “You’ll soon learn how to do it yourself, Lucy. All Bridgerton women do.”
As though hearing the call of Bridgerton women, Hyacinth tromped up the hill, Colin hot on her heels. “No one have better snatched my purple mallet!”
She did not bother with greetings, barely giving any of her family a passing glance. With her newborn, Isabella, attached to her hip these days, this was her first stroke of freedom since the birth.
“Hello to you too Hyacinth,” Gregory deadpanned.
His sister snatched up her preferred mallet. “Brother,” she nodded to him, “prepared to lose all dignity in front of your wife?”
He huffed at this. “I could very will win the game!”
His siblings laughter erupting around him did not discourage him.
“Sure you can,” Kate drawled out, attempting to be encouraging. “Not all terrible Pall Mall players are doomed to lose the game.”
“You only say that because you are terrible at Pall Mall,” Hyacinth reminded her.
At Kate’s sharp frown, Hyacinth snatched up the wickets and dragged Lucy along to set them up. “Someone has to teach you the rules, and I am perfect for it!” She dragged her sister-in-law away before anyone else could argue otherwise.
Gregory was positive his sister planned to sabotage his wife and make the course a mess, but at the moment that was the least of his worries. Lucy was clever enough to discern Hyacinth’s little lies from her honesty.
“Are you all lying to me?” Gregory asked his siblings. “About Simon? I thought we past the whole ‘Lying to Gregory’ phase?” It’d been a little game his siblings played on him for most of his youth—telling tall tales to see him go completely mad. He’d been gullible to believe some of the ridiculous stories; how if he ate both his and Hyacinth’s boogers he’d never sneeze again (he did not do that; in fact he found boogers gross, thank you very much) or when they convinced him he did not exists for a solid day in a half when mother was out of the house. Even Anthony played along with that one! His brothers and sister seemed to have only relented a bit in light of his marriage.
But apparently not completely.
Daphne snorted, her arms dropping back to her side before she could follow through on her practice swing. “Of course we are not lying to you! Simon did play once.”
“But he got scarred for life,” Anthony told him. He resigned himself to the orange mallet, no use of trying to pry the Mallet of Death from his wife. Not when she was already practicing her swings with a little more muscle than anyone was comfortable with. “He is perfectly content eating his little sandwiches and drinking tea with Penelope on the sidelines.”
The two mentioned in-laws sat at the table together, the light breeze ruffling the table cloth. Penelope waved happily to the party. Simon…
“I have a physician on call!”
Colin’s head snapped from where he was surveying Hyacinth’s handiwork of the course. “There will be no need for any physician!”
“I doubt that!” came Simon’s shout. He picked up his tea, taking a sip. Even from the distance, Gregory sensed fear in the Duke’s stare. Specifically fear of Kate.
“I would have remembered if Kate nearly killed Simon,” Gregory argued. “The entire house would be talking about it!”
Anthony frowned at him. “Did you not tell me last night you could not recall a single detail of mine and Kate’s wedding except for all the flowers and your constant sneezing?”
“That is right,” Colin chuckled, waving his mallet at Gregory, “he sneezed right at the objections!”
“We all thought it was an earnest objection with how terribly you fancied Kate,” Daphne added. “Oh, you were so adorable,” she cooed. “You absolutely kicked up a fit when you found out about their engagement.”
Heat consumed his face. “I did not fancy Kate!”
This time Anthony barked a laugh. “You’re joking, right?” At Gregory’s scowl, his brother’s laughter turned into an indignant scoff. “You were a rightful nuisance, Gregory Bridgerton! I do not have enough fingers for the number of times you attempted to propose to Kate when you were a boy!”
“Oh, hush you,” Kate waved her mallet threateningly at her husband, “you are embarrassing him!” She turned to him offering a kind—if not apologetic—smile. “We are all simply teasing you, Gregory. I found your infatuation to be sweet.”
“I was not infatuated with you,” Gregory insisted. These earned bemused, pitiful glances from his family. “I was not!”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Colin patted his back. “Especially since your wife is coming back.”
Lucy and Hyacinth rejoined the group. “Course is all set,” Hyacinth announced, turning to the rest of the party expectantly. “How are we to do this? Oldest to youngest, like always?”
There were some grumblings from the party. Anthony, being consistently the eldest player of the bunch, always got to have a go first. However, if they went youngest to eldest, Lucy would find herself first, and his lovely wife had yet to even witness how the game commenced!
“Oh, be quiet you lot,” Anthony ordered. “I will go first. Lucy, I promise it is not as difficult as it looks. Unless you are Kate.”
His wife glowered at him.
Smirking at her, Anthony took the first swing of the game.
An hour into the game the entire party were at odds and at various spots upon the course.
Miraculously, Kate was in the lead for once in her life. Yet by no substantial means, Anthony hot on her tail as the two began to make their way back up the course. Not too far behind them was Colin, he determined to ride out the game at a slow and steady race…that is until the end. He muttered to Gregory he planned to win with a trick up his sleeve. Gregory decided he did not want to know this trick in fear of both Kate and Anthony’s wrath when all was revealed.
Lucy faired well, taking the pointers Kate and Daphne offered to heart and ignoring anything Hyacinth dare say in fear of sabotage. Smart, gosh did he marry a smart lady. She and Daphne often found each other in close vicinity during the game, chatting away like old friends.
Ironically it was Hyacinth and Gregory at the end of the line. Gregory with the much despised pink mallet and Hyacinth with her treasured purple that had never wronged her before.
“Maybe that mallet isn’t all that lucky after all,” Gregory quipped as Hyacinth came tromping over to him by the lake, just finishing her turn. “You are in last place.”
“I am simply out of practice,” Hyacinth seethed. “Need I remind you I gave birth to a living monstrosity.” She paused at Gregory’s raised eyebrows. “That I love dearly! I love my baby, but goodness it was exhausting, I’m barely starting to feel myself again,” she confessed, though breezily. She was not about to go sharing her emotions and feelings like Gregroy was a talking-walking diary. “Like you are one to talk. You have the worst mallet of all! I swear the damn thing is cursed.”
“I would not say it is cursed…” Gregory often ended up with the pink mallet, sometimes out of choice, most of the time out of there being no other mallet left. His brothers avoided the mallet like a plague and Kate upturned her nose, not caring for any other mallet but the Mallet of Death.
“It’s been cursed ever since Anthony used it the week of his and Kate’s engagement,” Hyacinth insisted. “His loss cemented it’s future failures.”
Gregory frowned. “Anthony hates the pink mallet. He’d never use.”
“Yeah, he doesn’t use the pink mallet because of that game. The very same game that happened to be Simon’s first and last attempt at pall mall.”
“You are in on the Simon playing pall mall story too?” Gregory groaned. Of course everyone was in on the tomfoolery. No surprise there. “Is everyone determined to make me look like an idiot in front of my wife this weekend?”
Hyacinth’s brows furrowed. “Pardon me, but what are you going on about? Everyone knows about the Simon and Kate Pall Mall Royale of 1813,” she said in her matter-of-fact way.
“I didn’t!”
“Because you know nothing, Gregory!”
“But how would you know?”
“Because I know everything, that is why.” His sister scoffed, tossing a curl over her shoulder. “Anthony played with the pink mallet and was in a sour mood because Kate got the black mallet, and Kate was entertaining potential suitors despite the two courting.”
Gregory nodded. He remembered that. Anthony had been in a terrible mood—still to this day too—whenever Sir Barthem was present at any society function.
Little snippets of memory came back to Gregory the longer he mused on that week of Kate and Anthony’s engagement. He never understood, as both a boy and an adult, why Anthony wrote up a contract with Lord Sheffield to have Kate and Benedict marry. Anthony was so besotted with Kate, the contact should have ended sooner, would have saved the entire family from headaches and heartaches.
“I still think he was an idiot to not force her to marry him,” Hyacinth continued on, jabbering away. “The contact allowed him to.”
What?
Gregory’s head snapped to her. “The marriage contract was between Kate and Benedict. Anthony could not have married her unless he nulled the contract.”
This time Hyacinth frowned at him. “Who said that?” When he did not answer—because he did not have one unfortunately, all his knowledge about the contract caught from overhearing fleeting conversations and stories from his siblings—Hyacinth tutted in pity. “You really know nothing do you?” Shaking her head, she ambled her way over to him, eyes dancing with sinister mirth. “The contract never stated Benedict specifically. The marriage contract Anthony and Lord Sheffield wrote up was that Kate had to marry a Bridgerton,” she stressed. “Any Bridgerton. As in Anthony, Benedict, Colin,” she then snorted, “or even you!”
Somewhere ahead Lucy cheered, perhaps making a lucky swing. He knew she’d catch on with the game, and as much he’d like to join in the celebration, he was far too consumed with Hyacinth’s statement unraveling like thread in his head.
Kate…could have married any of his brothers?
Any of them?
“You are lying to me,” Gregory declared. “You have to be.”
A hard knock echoed through the field.
“No!” Kate cried out. “HOW DARE YOU!”
The black ball came soaring, before it thumped against the tree above Gregory and Hyacinth. The younger Bridgertons leaped away as it fell to the base of the tree.
“I am going to kill you, Anthony Bridgerton!” Kate threat was lost in Anthony’s uproarious laughter.
“All’s fair in love and war, my Katie!”
The Viscountess came stomping down the hill towards the lake, mallet clutched freightingly in her hands.
Hyacinth smirked. “Oh, here comes the woman in question now. Why don’t you ask her about the contract, brother?”
Kate came to a stop by her ball, right in the middle of Hyacinth and Gregory. “Hello,” she uttered out, not at all pleased to see them or be by the lake.
One would argue a ball by the lake was cursed as well.
From behind their sister-in-law Hyacinth nodded to Gregroy.
He shook his head furiously.
“Go on!” she mouthed, waving for him to do so.
Huffing, Gregory turned to Kate with his jaw set. “Kate, my sister has been telling me lies, so I am turning to my most trusted sister for confirmation.” Hyacinth giggled behind the palm of her hand.
Kate quirked an eyebrow at Hyacinth, but faced Gregory patiently. “Yes, of course. I’ll answer whatever you need. What is the matter?”
He felt the flush rising up his neck to his cheeks against his will. “The marriage contract my brother wrote up with your father—” Kate’s brows furrowed at the mention of the contract; the little piece of the past was rarely brought up these days, “—what exactly was the wording of the contract?”
“The wording?” She echoed, if not a bit tersely. “Oh, I cannot give you exact wording.” Kate swung the Mallet of Death upon her shoulder, eyeing up Gregory with sympathy. “I only ever laid my eyes on the contract once, and even then I did not bother to read it. Never mind it was over a decade ago.”
Gregory spun around to Hyacinth, smug and grinning like a fool. “See! I knew you were spouting lies like you always do. This proves you know nothing!”
His sister did not laugh. Instead she gave a nonchalant shrug. “No, this proves you do not know how to properly ask a question and Kate knows how to evade a question with stellar capabilities. Our dear, most trusted sister is a Viscountess, Gregory! Of course she knows how to talk circles around people, especially the curious!”
Oh. He did not consider this.
Kate, however did, if her amused smile were anything to go by. “That is an astute observation, Hyacinth,” she praised. “I did evade the question, not because I do not care to answer Gregory’s question, but more so due to the fact I do not like to dwell on the contract.” She shifted hands on the mallet, fingers dancing along the black stripe and hard lines of the wood. “For your brother and I, it was a rather dark time and—”
“We do not care about that,” Hyacinth interjected, waving off Kate. The older woman’s lips pursed, not at all pleased with the interruption, but she did not scold the younger. Hyacinth was Hyacinth, and if anyone learned to live with her ever dominate personality it was Kate. “We care about this little particular wording in the contact. In regards as to whom you were to marry.”
Kate’s eyes narrowed sharply on Hyacinth. “And why is that?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“Because, because,” Hyacinth declared. “I am your most favorite sister and Gregory is your most favorite brother and it is only right we hear the truth on the matter from the source herself.”
“I have nothing to speak on,” Kate replied. “As I said before, I do not know the exact wording of the contract seeing as it has been years since my eyes ever laid upon it.”
Gregory’s eyes darted back and forth between the stern, stonewalled women. Hyacinth with bored coolness and knowing stare, while Kate stood to her full height, jaw tight and eyes alight in warning. A Hyacinth-Kate stare down. Neither would flinch, neither would give, neither would dare entertain the thought of conceding to the other’s demand.
He gulped. “You know what? Let’s put the conversation to bed—”
“Bloody hell!”
An orange ball flew across the field. The three ducked, covering their heads before the proverbial thump echoed a few feet away from them. Lifting his head, Gregory groaned at the sight of the ball.
The faded orange Pall Mall ball sat right on the bank of the lake. A threatening position. Any light move near the blasted thing would cause the orange ball to teeter into the lake, effectively ruining Anthony’s chances of winning the game.
Kate whooped once the reality of Anthony’s potential fate settled. “Look who is getting what he deserves after his diabolical play!”
Anthony’s hardy stomps down the hill only caused Kate to laugh harder. “Shut up!” he spat her way, joining the little group by the lake. He did not dare step closer to his ill-fated ball.
His wife’s cackles ceased after some practiced breathing, she grinning evilly at her husband. “This is oddly poetic. You and I by the lake, playing Pall Mall,” Kate mused, “you on the brink of losing.”
“Oh, you enjoy poetry now?” Anthony taunted back. He dug his orange mallet deeper into the soft grass below them. He was in a rightful mood. Asking him any question pertaining to the contract seemed idiotic at best.
Naturally, Hyacinth jumped at the opportunity.
“Brother! Gregory and I were just asking Kate about the old marriage contract you and Lord Sheffield wrote up all those years ago.” Hyacinth nudged Gregory in the keister with the end of her mallet. He tried to muffle his yelp. “Is that not right Greg?”
Anthony turned to Gregory expectantly, a dark frown marring his once gleeful face. Damn Hyacinth. “Why do you care about the contract? It’s decades old and has not been of relevance for years.”
“Maybe he cares to write one up for his first born.” Hyacinth’s comment was not welcomed. “He is the last born brother to a family of eight with no financial prospects outside of the family name. Honestly, an understandable concern.”
“Hyacinth!” he hissed. He could never catch a break, could he?
“Gregory,” Anthony uttered, deeply concerned. “Is all well? I thought you were pleased with the investment group I set you with—”
“I am!” Gregory cried out. “I am very pleased! Hyacinth speaking lies! Hyacinth always lies!”
“I do not lie,” Hyacinth said plainly. “I simply speak my truth which could be contradictory to what other’s believe to be their truth.” She shrugged. “I see no problem.”
“That is lying, Hyacinth,” Kate told her matter-of-factly.
The youngest Bridgerton shook her head, tutting. “I think not—"
“Then what is the problem here?” Anthony’s question boomed, covering over Hyacinth’s squabbling. “Why on earth do you care about the contract—”
“Is it true Kate could have married any of us!”
All three sets of eyes landed on Gregory, shocked and puzzled by the question.
Anthony’s face darkened. “What are you going on about?”
Gregory huffed, mirroring his brother’s stance with his arms crossed over his chest. “I…I may have heard in the wind,” –Hyacinth snorted— “that Kate could have married any Bridgerton. That was the wording in the contract. Any. Meaning you, Benedict, Colin, or—or— myself!”
His brilliant brother—the very man who raised him as his own and cherished him like no other—blinked dumbly at him.
“You are asking…about the wording,” Anthony’s eyebrows shot up, eyes deadlocked on Gregory, “of a contract that is over two decades old! A contract that does not exist and has not existed since I burned the damn thing?”
Gregory knew this was a rhetorical question, needing no answer. Yet his mouth did not listen. “Yes.”
“On my anniversary weekend of all days!”
Well, when he put it like that…it sound rather dickish. “Yes…?”
Anthony looked ready to swing the mallet over his knee and break it in half—
“Fine! Yes,” Kate cried out, averting an impending crisis. “Yes, Gregory. If that is all you are after, the marriage contract did stipulate for any Bridgerton. Simply stating that the two families, the Sheffields and Bridgertons, were to be united in matrimony.”
She stated it so clearly, unbothered by this little fact.
As if her entire young life was not a trap, confining her with belief she’d be wed to a man who did not love her. Gregory had vivid memories of how miserable Kate had been during the time she’d been betrothed to Benedict.
It was not fair. Even after all this time, it still was not fair because—because—
“I could have married Kate!”
Anthony’s head snapped to Gregory. “I beg your pardon?”
“I could have married Kate,” Gregory stated again. “I could have married Kate all this time!”
Kate shook her head in a hurry. “No, no, no! Gregory, do you hear yourself? Your brother and I have been married for fourteen years—”
Gregory paid no mind to Kate, focused on Anthony, who’s face was turning redder by the second. “You knew I loved Kate all my life! I proposed to her! Twice! And you did not even consider me when it came to picking Kate’s betrothed!”
Anthony looked like he was about to snap into a fit of rage—
Except he doubled over, a string of air strangled snickers tumbling out of him. He heaved and wheezed, catching himself on his knees as laughter rucked up through him with no sign of stopping.
“Why are you laughing at me?” Gregory grumbled.
Hyacinth was no better, she collapsing to the ground in laughter, her and Anthony’s chuckles mirrors of each other.
Desperate, Gregory turned to Kate.
Her pity was overshadowed by poorly concealed mirth.
Damn! Damn them all. Laughing at him. “This is not funny!”
Struggling to catch his breath, Anthony turned his face up to his brother, a broad grin spread across his face. “Gregory! You were thirteen when Kate and I married!” He snorted, as if the term thirteen was a joke of itself. “You very well could not marry her! Even if I was not absolutely besotted with her, I would not dare allow it!” Anthony tried to stand to his full height again, only to double over in more laughter, forgoing the idea all together. “She is nearly ten years your senior!”
“We could have waited,” Gregory shot back. “And our age difference would be no worse than yours! Nine years may I remind you!” When no one came to his defense, he huffed down at his brother. “I would have made a wonderful husband to her! And you knew it then!”
“You were thirteen!” Anthony finally found air in his lungs long enough to stand to his full height. “I had not an inkling of what kind of man you’d be, let alone husband!”
His brother appear to nearly fall into another fit, Hyacinth’s ongoing cackles infectious, when Kate spoke up.
“I knew you’d be a wonderful husband.” Kate offered a kind smile; the one she gave him when he was teased or inevitably left out. The one she gave when she snuck him a slice of lemon cake when he arrived late to family functions, or tossed him a bonbon in passing, Aubrey Hall seeming to have an never ending supply of sweets no one was capable of finding except for Kate and Anthony. “I knew when you chose to sit with me while I painted instead of playing with your sisters, or offered me your handkerchief when I sneezed, or all the other countless, thoughtful actions you performed for me. In fact, I knew you’d be the best Bridgerton out all of your brothers.” Mallet abandoned, she rested her hands on his shoulders, giving a light squeeze. “But you were not the husband for me. For starters, you are ten years younger than me. Ladies very well cannot wait for a suitor to come of age.” Okay, she had a fair point there. “And second of all, I love Anthony.”
His older brother’s laughter finally ceased.
“You do,” Gregory confirmed. He’d been witness to their love for almost all his adolescence and adulthood. The two were the most well-suited for each other out of all his siblings and their spouses; well, besides Hyacinth and Gareth. The man was a saint—or equally as deranged—to marry her. Nevertheless, Gregory could not argue against the love Kate and Anthony possessed for each other.
“And would it be fair for me to marry a man when we are not on equal footing in our love?” Gregory shook his head; Kate had a way of speaking logic to him when no one else could. “You and I both know I am the best thing he is ever going to have,” Kate joked, earning a playful scowl from her husband. “I cannot let anyone, even his sweet youngest brother, take that away from him.”
“I see your point,” Gregory agreed, his childhood infatuation and anger ebbing away as Kate brought reality back to him. “Anthony does need all the help he can get.”
“Exactly.” Kate grinned. Both ignored Anthony’s annoyed grunt. “And you are a wonderful husband,” she remined him, “to Lucy! I would not push just any lady your way. I had to pick a very special one, and I think she fits the bill quite nicely.”
“We get it Kate,” Hyacinth shouted from the ground. She had not bothered to stand back to her feet, choosing to braid spry twigs together in a crown. “You played matchmaker and it turned out wonderfully,” she drawled. “But can we please get on with the game?”
A whoop cried out from above. “Oi! Kate, it is your turn!” Colin it seemed was now impatient as ever, especially after committing his swing to putting Anthony’s ball at the water bank.
Giving Gregory a little pat on the shoulder, she picked up her mallet and surveyed the balls surrounding them. Her black ball was not too far from the tree, less than a few feet away from the pink and purple balls.
Except they all knew who’s ball she had an eye on.
“Katharine,” Anthony warned.
“Yes, my love?” she asked, eyes locked on her ball as she angled herself for a practice swing.
“Do not—”
She swung. “Too late!”
The black ball ricocheted across the grass, colliding directly into Anthony’s.
Both the orange and black ball fell into the lake, eliminating both the Viscount and Viscountess from the game.
“No!” Anthony groaned, shoulders slumping.
His wife on the other hand—“Yes!” Kate jumped up and down, utterly delighted with her achievement.
“Did Anthony’s ball fall into the lake?” Daphne called down from atop the slope. Her excitement was not lost on anyone.
“Yes!” Hyacinth answered, gathering herself back up to her feet. “Yes, it did! Both his and Kate’s! We can move on!” She snatched up her mallet, poking Gregory ahead. “Go on now!”
Picking up his abandoned mallet, Gregory took a hefty swing. His pink ball soared back on to course. Nodding a goodbye to the losers and his younger sister, Gregory ran on ahead to join the rest of the party.
Glancing over his shoulder, he found Kate and Anthony bickering over the balls in the lake. Yet their loving gazes and teasing grins spoke otherwise. They were once again lost in their own little world. As they often were; it was impossible to wake them from their impenetrable trance with each other.
And when Anthony swept Kate up in a surprise kiss, Hyacinth’s gags of disgust could be heard a mile away. A sweet revenge if any for his younger sister.
He shook his head with a laugh and carried on after his pink ball. Gregory had his own wife to best in Pall Mall—and perhaps, unlike his brother, he’ll let her win.