“Edwina?” Kate choked out. Drat. She’d just played right into his hand. She’d been doing her best to keep the two of them apart, and now she’d practically arranged an afternoon out. There was no way she could exclude Edwina after all but inviting herself into the game.
“Do you have another sister?” he asked mildly.
She just scowled at him. “She might not wish to play. I think she was resting in her room.”
“I’ll instruct the maid to knock very lightly on her door,” Anthony said, obviously lying.
“Excellent!” Colin said brightly. “We shall be evenly matched. Three men and three women.”
“Does one play on teams?” Kate asked.
“No,” he replied, “but my mother has always been adamant that one must be evenly matched in all things. She’ll be quite disturbed if we go out in odd numbers.”
Kate couldn’t imagine the lovely and gracious woman she’d chatted with just an hour earlier getting upset over a game of Pall Mall, but she figured it wasn’t her place to comment.
“I’ll see to fetching Miss Sheffield,” Anthony murmured, looking insufferably smug. “Colin, why don’t you see this Miss Sheffield down to the field and I’ll meet you there in half an hour?”
Kate opened her mouth to protest the arrangements that would leave Edwina alone in the viscount’s company, even for so short a time as a walk down to the field, but in the end she remained silent. There was no reasonable excuse she could give to prevent it, and she knew it.
Anthony caught her fishlike spluttering and quirked one corner of his mouth in the most obnoxious manner before he said, “I’m pleased to see you agree with me, Miss Sheffield.”
She just grumbled. If she’d formed words, they wouldn’t have been polite ones.
“Excellent,” Colin said. “We’ll see you then.”
And then he looped his arm through hers and led her away, leaving Anthony smirking behind them.
Colin and Kate walked about a quarter of a mile from the house to a somewhat uneven clearing bordered on one side by a lake.
“Home of the prodigal red ball, I presume?” Kate queried, motioning to the water.
Colin laughed and nodded. “It’s a pity, because we used to have equipment enough for eight players; Mother had insisted on our purchasing a set that could accommodate all of her children.”
Kate wasn’t certain whether to smile or frown. “Yours is a very close family, isn’t it?”
“The best,” Colin said simply, walking over to a nearby shed.
Kate trailed after him, tapping her hand idly against her thigh. “Do you know what time it is?” she called out.
He paused, pulled out his pocket watch, and flipped it open. “Ten minutes past three.”
“Thank you,” Kate replied, making a mental note of it. They’d probably left Anthony at five to three, and he’d promised to deliver Edwina to the Pall Mall field within thirty minutes, so they should be down at twenty-five past the hour.
Half three at the very latest. Kate was willing to be generous and allow for unavoidable delays. If the viscount had Edwina down by half three, she wouldn’t quibble.
Colin resumed his trek to the shed, Kate watching with interest as he wrenched open the door. “It sounds rusty,” she commented.
“It’s been a while since we’ve been out here to play,” he said.
“Really? If I had a house like Aubrey Hall, I would never go to London.”
Colin turned around, his hand still on the half-open door to the shed. “You’re a lot like Anthony, did you know that?”
Kate gasped. “Surely you’re joking.”
He shook his head, a strange little smile on his lips. “Perhaps it’s because you’re both the eldest. The Lord knows I’m thankful every day I wasn’t born in Anthony’s shoes.”
“What do you mean?”
Colin shrugged. “I simply wouldn’t want his responsibilities, that’s all. The title, the family, the fortune—it’s a great deal to fit on one man’s shoulders.”
Kate didn’t particularly want to hear how well the viscount had assumed the responsibilities of his title; she didn’t want to hear anything that might change her opinion of him, although she had to confess that she’d been impressed by the apparent sincerity of his apology earlier that afternoon. “What has this to do with Aubrey Hall?” she inquired.
Colin stared at her blankly for a moment, as if he’d forgotten that the conversation had started with her innocent comment about how lovely his country home was. “Nothing, I suppose,” he said finally. “And everything as well. Anthony loves it here.”
“But he spends all his time in London,” Kate said. “Doesn’t he?”
“I know.” Colin shrugged. “Odd, isn’t it?”
Kate had no reply, so she just watched as he pulled the door to the shed all the way open. “Here we are,” he said, pulling out a wheeled cart that had been specially constructed to fit eight mallets and wooden balls. “A bit musty, but none the worse for the wear.”
“Except for the loss of the red ball,” Kate said with a smile.
“I blame that entirely on Daphne,” Colin replied. “I blame everything on Daphne. It makes my life much easier.”
“I heard that!”
Kate turned to see an attractive young couple approaching. The man was devastatingly handsome, with dark, dark hair and light, light eyes. The woman could only be a Bridgerton, with the same chestnut hair as both Anthony and Colin. Not to mention the same bone structure and smile. Kate had heard that all the Bridgertons looked rather alike, but she’d never fully believed it until now.
“Daff!” Colin called out. “You’re just in time to help us put out the wickets.”
She gave him an arch smile. “You didn’t think I’d let you set up the course yourself, do you?” She turned to her husband. “I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Colin said to Kate. “She’s very strong. I’d wager she could toss me clear into the lake.”
Daphne rolled her eyes and turned to Kate. “Since I’m sure my miserable brother won’t do the honors, I’ll introduce myself. I am Daphne, Duchess of Hastings, and this is my husband Simon.”
Kate bobbed a quick curtsy. “Your grace,” she murmured, then turned to the duke and said again, “Your grace.”
Colin waved his hand toward her as he bent down to retrieve the wickets from the Pall Mall cart. “This is Miss Sheffield.”
Daphne looked confused. “I just passed by Anthony at the house. I thought he said he was on his way to fetch Miss Sheffield.”
“My sister,” Kate explained. “Edwina. I am Katharine. Kate to my friends.”
“Well, if you are brave enough to play Pall Mall with the Bridgertons, I definitely want you as my friend,” Daphne said with a wide smile. “Therefore you must call me Daphne. And my husband Simon. Simon?”
“Oh, of course,” he said, and Kate had the distinct impression that he would have said the same had she just declared the sky orange. Not that he wasn’t listening to her, just that it was clear he adored her to distraction.
This, Kate thought, was what she wanted for Edwina.
“Let me take half of those,” Daphne said, reaching for the wickets in her brother’s hand. “Miss Sheffield and I . . . that is, Kate and I”—she flashed Kate a friendly grin—“will set up three of them, and you and Simon can do the rest.”
Before Kate could even venture an opinion, Daphne had taken her by the arm and was leading her toward the lake.
“We have to make absolutely certain that Anthony loses his ball in the water,” Daphne muttered. “I have never forgiven him for last time. I thought Benedict and Colin were going to die laughing. And Anthony was the worst. He just stood there smirking. Smirking!” She turned to Kate with a most beleaguered expression. “No one smirks quite like my eldest brother.”
“I know,” Kate muttered under her breath.
Thankfully, the duchess hadn’t heard her. “If I could have killed him, I vow I would have.”
“What will happen once all your balls are lost in the lake?” Kate couldn’t resist asking. “I haven’t played with you lot yet, but you do seem rather competitive, and it seems . . .”
“That it would be inevitable?” Daphne finished for her. She grinned. “You’re probably right. We have no sense of sportsmanship when it comes to Pall Mall. When a Bridgerton picks up a mallet, we become the worst sorts of cheaters and liars. Truly, the game is less about winning than making sure the other players lose.”
Kate fought for words. “It sounds . . .”
“Awful?” Daphne grinned. “It’s not. You’ll never have more fun, I guarantee it. But at the rate we’re going, the entire set will end up in the lake ere long. I suppose we’ll have to send to France for another set.” She jammed a wicket into the ground. “It seems a waste, I know, but worth it to humiliate my brothers.”
Kate tried not to laugh, but she didn’t succeed.
“Do you have any brothers, Miss Sheffield?” Daphne asked.
Since the duchess had forgotten to use her given name, Kate deemed it best to revert to formal manners. “None, your grace,” she replied. “Edwina is my only sibling.”
Daphne shaded her eyes with her hand and scanned the area for a devilish wicket location. When she spied one—sitting right atop a tree root—she marched away, leaving Kate no choice but to follow.
“Four brothers,” Daphne said, shoving the wicket into the ground, “provide quite a marvelous education.”
“The things you must have learned,” Kate said, quite impressed. “Can you give a man a black eye? Knock him to the ground?”
Daphne grinned wickedly. “Ask my husband.”
“Ask me what?” the duke called out from where he and Colin were placing a wicket on a tree root on the opposite side of the tree.
“Nothing,” the duchess called out innocently. “I’ve also learned,” she whispered to Kate, “when it’s best just to keep one’s mouth shut. Men are much easier to manage once you understand a few basic facts about their nature.”
“Which are?” Kate prompted.
Daphne leaned forward and whispered behind her cupped hand, “They’re not as smart as we are, they’re not as intuitive as we are, and they certainly don’t need to know about fifty percent of what we do.” She looked around. “He didn’t hear that, did he?”
Simon stepped out from behind the tree. “Every word.”
Kate choked on a laugh as Daphne jumped a foot. “But it’s true,” Daphne said archly.
Simon crossed his arms. “I’ll let you think so.” He turned to Kate. “I’ve learned a thing or two about women over the years.”
“Really?” Kate asked, fascinated.
He nodded and leaned in, as if imparting a grave state secret. “They’re much easier to manage if one allows them to believe that they are smarter and more intuitive than men. And,” he added with a superior glance at his wife, “our lives are much more peaceful if we pretend that we’re only aware of about fifty percent of what they do.”