Page 21 of Once a Scoundrel

Chapter Five

Squinting against the afternoon sun the following day, Faith glanced around to make certain that no one was watching. Then she kicked at her ball to send it an extra few yards toward the metal hoop at the end of the alley.

“Cheating at lawn billiards?” Stephen’s deep voice drawled at her shoulder. “For shame.”

She rolled her eyes. Didn’t the man have anything better to do than to continue to annoy her?

“I never cheat at lawn billiards,” she corrected with a haughty sniff.

So it was a good thing they were playing pall mall. And cutthroat, at that, in which rules were few and cheating was practically encouraged. Except for directly hitting opponents’ balls with their own mallets, players were free to do whatever necessary to drive their balls the length of the alley and through the metal hoop at the end in the fewest number of strokes.

Mama had scheduled an afternoon of games for the guests, for once refusing to let the men go off hunting or fishing. Now everyone was gathered on the lawn, and while the men competed for prizes in rounds of bowls or archery, the women played at pall mall or battledore and shuttlecock. A tent had been erected near the rose garden, beneath which several tables had been placed where guests could take tea and refreshments at their leisure. Footmen scurried back and forth from the house with fresh trays of biscuits, sugared fruits, and sandwiches, pots of tea, and pitchers of lemonade. Several guests lounged on blankets and pillows spread out across the grass, while other couples surreptitiously slipped away into the private spaces of the walled gardens or one of the surrounding follies, where they couldn’t be seen from the house.

Mama and the twins presided over all of it as hostesses, making certain that the guests were enjoying themselves, while Faith was certain Papa was hiding in his study. He’d never had patience for lawn games.

Stephen clucked his tongue like a scolding governess and tapped her ball with his foot, sending it back to where it had originally come to rest.

She narrowed her eyes. “Shouldn’t you be over with the men?”

“I find the competition here more interesting.” His gaze swept over her, and drat him for sprouting goose flesh on her arms! “And far more beautiful.”

“Yes, I suppose you would.” She wasn’t naïve enough to fall for his charms, not even after the way he’d kissed her yesterday in the lane. So if she’d been thinking nearly constantly about those kisses and the tingles he’d set loose inside her, it was only because he’d taken her by surprise. No other reason. She certainly hadn’t fallen for him again. “Compared to Lord Throckmorton plucking a bow, Lady Rathbourne cuts a far lovelier figure swinging a mallet.”

He glanced down the long alley to where the viscountess was making an enthusiastic swing to whack her ball several yards through the air and nearly taking off the head of an unsuspecting footman standing nearby. He arched a brow. “Or attempting to fell Sherwood Forest.”

Despite herself, Faith laughed, and his eyes softened on her face. Which sent up a whole new round of tingles. Drat him.

But the viscountess must have sensed their gazes on her, for she smiled flirtatiously at Stephen and daintily carried her mallet down the lawn after her ball, swinging her hips in invitation.

Faith scowled. Clearly, the viscountess had other games in mind for this evening.

She lifted her chin. What did it matter to her what designs the scheming woman had on Stephen? She was welcome to the rascal as far as Faith was concerned.

She swung her mallet, hard, and sent her own ball careening through the air toward the far end of the green. “Excuse me,” she said. “I’m playing through.”

He stared after the little red ball as it bounced several yards away and mumbled, “Obviously.”

She grit her teeth and walked away, to put as much distance as possible between them.

But the infuriating man reached down to scoop up his own ball from the grass and carried it with him as he fell into step beside her.

“Now who’s the one cheating?” she muttered. “Knowing you, I’m surprised you didn’t find a way for your ball to travel by horseback.”

He grinned at her, which only earned him another interested glance from the viscountess. “Don’t worry, Faith. Victory is securely yours.” He lowered his voice and murmured cryptically, “Besides, there are more important things to win than pall mall.”

“Well, it certainly seems that Lady Rathbourne is set on winningyou,” she muttered. “She couldn’t take her eyes off you last night at dinner.” In fact, the woman had stared at him as if she’d rather have devoured him than her roasted pheasant.

“I have no interest in her.”

Yet even as he said so, the viscountess brushed her hand across her neckline and over the swells of her large breasts that were nearly spilling out of her corset, which was drawn up so tight that it was a wonder the woman hadn’t fainted for lack of breath.

Grinding her teeth, Faith stood over her ball and did her best to ignore both of them as she set up her shot.

“She isn’t my sort.”

“Then who is these days?” She pulled back her mallet to swing—

“You.”