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“Of course, we shall leave the board set up for when we return.”
Jane stood up and walked over, gathering the pieces with gentle care.
“Shall I place the board on that table? The servants know to leave it alone if it is resting there.”
Ethan nodded vigorously, not able to take his eyes from the specially commissioned club.
“Are you playing with us, Uncle Bar-clee?”
“Say yes, Barclay, and I promise a full-length bat for you,” Richard joked, his emerald eyes as bright with enthusiasm as his son’s. Jane had never seen the sophisticated earl so eager and boyish. His laughter rang through the room, unrestrained and free.
The gentleman chuckled, running a hand through his slightly unruly hair.
“It has been some time since I played, but I suppose I might rack my memory to recall the rules. Will you play with us, Jane?”
Her breath caught in delight at the invitation. His brown eyes were studying her as he waited for her reply, and Jane had difficulty finding her voice as she became lost in his warm gaze. For all the reasons that made no sense for a match between them, something inexplicably drew her to the man.
“Yes! Do join us, Jane?” Richard spoke from behind Barclay’s shoulder, oblivious to the heat between his half brother and his houseguest. Jane reluctantly turned her gaze to him as he continued. “Sophia is coming to watch, and a few ladies have expressed an interest in joining in. One of them attended that women’s match at Ball’s Pond nearly ten years ago. She claims she is one of the spectators depicted in the drawing by Thomas Rowlandson. We are short players to make a proper match of it.”
Jane blinked in surprise. She knew the Rowlandson drawing—it had been quite a spectacle, widely talked about for its depiction of women engaging in cricket with unapologetic vigor. The earl’s zeal for the sport was unexpected, and she suddenly wondered if her family, who had just departed after Emma’s wedding, might have relished a match of their own had they known of his fondness for it.
Realizing that Barclay would be there, she inclined her head in assent.
“Of course, it has been a year or two, but I am sure I can manage. I shall go change into my boots. Where are we playing?”
“We have created a playing field on the west lawn to take full advantage of the afternoon sun.”
Ethan grasped his bat, tugging on his father’s sleeve.
“How long will we play? For three days? Must I tell Miss Lovell we will not be doing lessons in the morning?”
Richard and Barclay both burst out laughing. Jane herself pressed her palm against her mouth to keep a giggle back at Ethan’s transparent attempt to evade his governess.
“We are all amateurs,” his father replied. “We shall see if we can even make it last the afternoon.”
Ethan’s face fell.
“Oh. We were going to practice Latin tomorrow morning. I was hoping to tell her I was busy.”
The earl pursed his lips as if giving the matter serious consideration.
“If you learn Latin, we can practice talking to each other. Latin is important, is it not, Barclay?”
Barclay nodded solemnly, his expression the perfect imitation of a master tutor.
“Without my Latin lessons, I would not have been able to visit Florence and Rome and learn to draw plans for important buildings.”
Ethan grumbled but appeared mollified as they departed the library. Jane was too distracted to pay him any mind. She headed to her room to change her shoes, the fabric of her skirts swishing against her legs with each hurried step. Nervous excitement bubbled up within her, quickening her pace as if a gust of wind pushed her down the hall.
It means nothing, you silly chit! He was just being polite.
Yet she could not shake the flutter of anticipation that accompanied the thought of seeing him again so soon.
* * *
When Jane reached the western lawns, she found that most of the houseguests had gathered. The field had been marked off with lines scored into the turf and dusted with lime, and wicker chairs were set up beneath the shade of sprawling oak trees. The smell of freshly cut grass mingled with the scent of flowers from the gardens, lending a sense of idyllic calm to the cheerful chaos of assembling teams.
Because the countess was increasing, she sat on a bench in the shade to watch, lamenting that she also wanted to play. She looked lovely in her blue day gown with her red-blonde hair in a simple chignon, having removed her bonnet to take advantage of a breeze that rustled the verdant leaves above her.
