Anna gasped with surprise; Lady Battenkirk smiled. “Mind that you watch for rabbit holes. That is the advice I’m trying to impart.”
“Are we all quite at the ready, then?” Grif called as Anna rubbed her head. “Mind the shuttlecock,” he advised them, and very lightly sent the thing across to Lady Battenkirk.
She swung at it with such force that it was a wonder the poor thing didn’t lodge permanently in the net instead of dropping directly to the ground. One lone feather drifted helplessly behind it.
It was quickly apparent that the only two persons who had a knack for the game were Anna and Grif. Lady Killingham never lifted her racket, and Lady Battenkirk swung frequently, but rarely hit the shuttlecock.
When Anna batted the shuttlecock to Lady Killingham, Grif sprang, gazelle-like, in front of her, and hit it back, catching Anna off guard and thereby forcing her to lose sight of the thing. It hit her in the shoulder and floated to the ground.
“You must have a care, Miss Addison!” Lady Battenkirk admonished her.
They bandied the shuttlecock back and forth, Grif hitting with enviable ease, considering he was covering his entire half of the lawn. Anna grew terribly frustrated at his penchant for playing each and every turn.
At last the shuttlecock was hit to Anna, and in a fit of frustration she purposely hit the bird directly at Grif, but he misjudged her direction, and was lunging toward Lady Killingham to recover the shuttlecock when the thing hit him square in the side of the head and floated to the ground.
Grif looked at the bird, then at Anna. “I believe ye intentionally meant to hit me head.”
“What a perfectly unsporting thing to say!” Anna snapped.
With a dark frown, he stooped to pick the thing up, and when he served it across, it seemed to Anna to be a bit more forceful than before, and she decidedly aimed for his person again, managing to ping him on the shoulder.
She laughed triumphantly and strutted to the net, let her fingers trail across it as she pinned Grif with a look. “I believe that ties our score, does it not?”
“Aye,” he growled.
She returned to her place on the lawn. Grif smiled wickedly, tossed the shuttlecock into the air, and swiped it hard. The thing sailed across the net and hit Anna on her hip, as she turned from the projectile at the last minute. She gasped and jerked around. Grif was smiling and bowed over one leg stretched before him, his arms splayed wide.
Furious, Anna pounced on the fallen shuttlecock. “You really shouldn’t have done that, my lord!” she cried, and served it with as much force as she could marshal.
The final battle was begun.
The ladies beneath the awning had turned their chairs to face the court and began to call out helpful suggestions. “A bit on your toes, Lady Killingham!” one suggested. “Miss Addison, do take care to keep from wrenching your back!” called another.
But for Grif, they had nothing but words of encouragement. “My dear Lord Ardencaple, shall you have my favor?” one lady cried, waving a white kerchief at him. “Oh my lord, what marvelous skill you have!” another assured him when he managed to save another shuttlecock from its demise on Lady Killingham’s battledore.
As the game neared its conclusion, Anna and Lady Battenkirk were dangerously close to being eliminated. “Go on, then, let’s not dally,” Anna said irritably, preparing herself to receive the shuttlecock.
Grif smiled dangerously, pointed his battledore at Anna, tossed the shuttlecock in the air, and slapped it to Lady Battenkirk. She returned it hard to Lady Killingham, who shrieked and turned away in fear. Grif easily retrieved it and batted it to Anna. She swiped at it with great force, but her battledore caught nothing but feathers, and the bird sailed into the net. She watched in horror as the thing fell to the ground.
“Oh dear, you’ve lost the game!” Lady Battenkirk cried.
“W-what?” Anna asked, gasping for air.
“But never you mind, Miss Addison. A bit of practice, that’s all you require! Oh dear, I’m really quite parched! Come, Lady Killingham, shall we have a lemonade? This warm weather brings to mind the time I was in York. Have you been to York? They have such lovely textiles there…”
Lady Battenkirk dragged Lady Killingham along. Anna looked at the fallen shuttlecock, then at Grif.
His gaze was cold as he shoved one arm into his discarded waistcoat, and then the other. “It would seem we had time for one last lesson, aye? Never challenge a man at his own game,” he said, and picked up his coat. Without another glance at her, he walked to the awning to join the others while Anna stood alone, staring at the lot of them.
Twenty-five