Billie looked at her sister but jerked her head in George’s direction. “Tell her that Lord Kennard will be among the players. She’ll be here with bells on her toes.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Billie,” George muttered.

Billie let out a self-righteous huff. “She was talking to you all night!”

“She was sitting next to me,” George retorted. “She could hardly have done otherwise.”

“Not true. Felix’s brother was on her left. He’s a perfectly acceptable conversationalist. She could have spoken with him about any number of things.”

Andrew stepped between them. “Are the two of you going to snipe like jealous lovers or are we going to play?”

Billie glared.

George glared.

Andrew looked quite pleased with himself.

“You’re an idiot,” Billie said to him before turning back to Georgiana. “I suppose it will have to be Lady Alexandra. Get her and whomever else you can find. A gentleman if at all possible so we’ve equal numbers.”

Georgiana nodded. “But not Sir Reginald?”

“George is too worried about his teeth.”

Andrew made a choking sound.

Which came to a halt when George elbowed him in the ribs.

“Shall I meet you here?” Georgiana asked.

Billie thought for a moment, then said, “No, it will be quicker if we meet you on the west lawn.” She turned back to George and Andrew. “I’ll see to getting the set pulled out.”

She and Georgiana exited the room, leaving George alone with his younger brother.

“His teeth, eh?” Andrew murmured.

George glowered at him.

Andrew leaned in, just far enough to be annoying. “I’d wager he has very good oral hygiene.”

“Shut up.”

Andrew laughed, then leaned in with what was clearly meant to be an expression of concern. “You’ve got a little something…” He motioned to his teeth.

George rolled his eyes and shoved past him.

Andrew hopped to attention, caught up, and then overtook him, tossing a grin over his shoulder as he loped down the hall. “Ladies do love a dazzling smile.”

He was going to kill his brother, George decided as he followed him outside. And he was going to use a mallet.

Chapter 14

Ten minutes later George, Andrew, and Billie were standing on the lawn, watching as a footman plodded toward them, dragging the Pall Mall set behind them.

“I love Pall Mall,” Billie announced, rubbing her hands together in the brisk afternoon air. “This is a brilliant idea.”

“It was your idea,” George pointed out.

“Of course it was,” she said merrily. “Oh, look, here comes Georgiana.”

George shaded his eyes as he peered across the lawn. Sure enough, she was leading Lady Alexandra in their direction. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, one of the Berbrooke brothers.

“Thank you, William,” Billie said as the footman brought the set into place.

He nodded. “Milady.”

“Wait a moment,” Andrew said. “Didn’t we break one of the mallets last year?”

“Father commissioned a new set,” Billie informed him.

“Same colors?”

She shook her head. “We’re not having red this time around.”

George turned to look at her. “Why not?”

“Well,” she stalled, looking slightly sheepish, “we’ve had very bad luck with red. The balls keep ending up in the lake.”

“And you think a different color might rectify the problem?”

“No,” she said, “but I’m hoping yellow will be easier to spot beneath the surface.”

A few moments later, Georgiana and her little band of players arrived on the scene. George took an instinctive step toward Billie, but he was too slow. Lady Alexandra had already taken hold of his sleeve.

“Lord Kennard,” she said. “What a delight it will be to play Pall Mall. Thank you for inviting me.”

“It was Miss Georgiana, actually,” he said.

She smiled knowingly. “At your behest, I’m sure.”

Billie looked as if she might gag.

“And Lieutenant Rokesby,” Lady Alexandra continued, her hand a tight little claw on George’s arm even as she turned to Andrew. “We hardly had a chance to speak last night.”

Andrew bowed with all due chivalry.

“Are you acquainted with Lord Northwick?” she asked.

George desperately tried to catch his brother’s eye. This was not an avenue of conversation any of them wished to pursue.

Luckily for all, the footman had just pulled the cover off the Pall Mall set, and Billie was taking efficient charge.

“Here we are,” she said, pulling one of the mallets from its position. “Andrew already promised Georgiana the green, so let’s see, Mr. Berbrooke will take blue, Lady Alexandra can have pink, I’ll be yellow, Lieutenant Rokesby will be purple, and Lord Kennard will be black.”

“Can’t I be purple?” Lady Alexandra asked.

Billie looked at her as if she’d asked to have the Magna Carta revised.

“I like purple,” Lady Alexandra said coolly.

Billie’s back stiffened. “Take it up with Lieutenant Rokesby. It makes no difference to me.”

Andrew gave Billie a curious look, then offered his mallet to Lady Alexandra with a gallant bow. “As the lady wishes…”

Lady Alexandra nodded graciously.

“Very well,” Billie said with a sniff, “Georgiana is green, Mr. Berbrooke is blue, Lieutenant Rokesby is pink, I’m yellow, Lord Kennard is black, and Lady Alexandra is” – she gave her the side eye – “purple.”