Page 88 of The Earl She Once Saved

“I never become dizzy.”

“You held the banister.”

Ezra brightened. “Excellent. He is already losing.”

Exactly fifteen minutes later, they all found themselves outside, with sunlight warming the lawn. The storm had left the grass damp and every leaf newly washed. Water shone in the flowerbeds. The air smelled of wet earth, lavender, and roses beaten open by the rain. Ezra stationed himself upon the gravel where the ground was firm beneath his cane.

“I shall keep score.”

“There is no score,” Rafe said.

“There is now.”

Verity sent the shuttlecock toward him. Rafe swung and missed.

Ezra lifted one finger. “One to Lady Edgeworth.”

“She has not scored anything.”

“She struck it. You did not.”

Verity laughed. Rafe turned toward her. It was not the unguarded laughter from the night before, but it was near enough to loosen something inside him. Sunlight touched her hair. Color had risen into her cheeks.

“You distracted me,” he pointed out.

“I was standing still.”

“Yes. Very inconsiderately.”

She served again and Rafe struck too hard. The shuttlecock sailed over Ezra’s head and landed among the roses.

“Two to Lady Edgeworth,” Ezra announced.

“How?” Rafe scoffed.

“Style.”

Rafe retrieved it. “You invent the rules as you go.”

“That is why I am winning.”

“You have not touched the shuttlecock.”

“A commander need not perform every task himself.”

Verity hid a smile behind her battledore. Rafe sent the shuttlecock toward Ezra. Ezra leaned upon his cane, swung and struck nothing but air. Verity laughed again.

“A decorated officer,” she teased, “defeated by three feathers and a piece of cork.”

Ezra examined his battledore. “Faulty equipment.”

“The equipment did not move.”

“Precisely. Uncooperative.”

At that exact moment, a door opened behind them. Win came onto the terrace carrying a folded blanket for Rafe’s chair. Ezra saw her and immediately held out his battledore.

“Mrs. Hale. We require reinforcements.”