Page 106 of Hearts of Locke Hill

Violet turned. “Mama!”

Mama had the gall to look innocent.

Lydia continued. “What matters is that each marble now actsas your taw. As you use your taw to knock a marble out of the inner circle and into the outer ring, you accrue a point and take the marble. Each success earns you another turn from where your taw lies, until you fail. Then play passes on to your opponent. Play will continue as such until no marbles remain in the circle. However, the first player to then knock their opponent’s taw out of the inner circle will win five extra points to his or her final tally.” She paused, Violet assumed, for dramatic effect. “The winner shallchoosewho is to become headmaster or headmistress of Locke Hill School for Exceptional Young Ladies.”

“What?” she and Cyril both exclaimed.

“Please submit all complaints in writing. Players, ready yourselves.”

Andrew patted Cyril on the arm. “Good luck, old chum.”

Cyril nodded, quite numbly.

“Miss Whittemore?” Andrew said.

“Yes?” Violet felt very much like she’d been flipped upside down very fast. That is, lightheaded and a bit queasy.

“Show him what’s what.”

His words broke through her shock. She gave a succinct nod. “Count on it.”

As the group gave them encouraging words, wagered amongst themselves, and made space for the two players, Cyril crouched down. “We justhadto share our little story of ringtaw with them at the fair.”

“More fool we,” she responded, eyeing the angles of certain possible shots. She had to win. There was no way she was going to allow Cyril to give up a role he was born to play, just because he was an absolute gentleman.

“Where were you keeping my marble all these years?” he muttered as he stood next to her once more.

She swallowed. “Must you ask?”

“I must.”

She walked around to the other side of the ring to consider another angle. He strode the opposite direction and ended up back at her side.

“Very well. If you must know, I kept it in my violin case.”

He stepped back and stared, his eyes rounding softly.

“In the rosin box,” she said.

The corner of his mouth quirked upward. Though she’d been quite unaware all these years of his violin play, he, and much of society, knew how often Violet Whittemore drew up her bow.

“You thought of me,” he said softly, “every time you played?”

“I thought of you,” she whispered.

His gaze narrowed, and his smile grew. “I’m going to win this game.”

She mirrored his expression, removing her gloves. “Not if I have anything to do with it.” She shoved her gloves into her skirt pocket.

At that moment, Lydia, clearly in charge, motioned to Spencer, who put his thumb and forefinger to his lips and gave a sharp whistle. Everyone quieted.

“Ready, players?” Lydia asked.

Cyril and Violet nodded.

Lydia smiled. “Players, commence!”

Violet looked to Cyril, who motioned to the rings. “Ladies first.”