“You dare challenge my abilities?” His eyes were slits, his voice filled with defiance. “I assure you, I am more than capable of excelling in this game.”
As the game commenced, the disgruntled pair did not miss an opportunity to bicker and taunt each other. Their comments were sharp, their words dripping with sarcasm and disdain.
“Lady Bridget, your stance is as graceful as a swan with a limp. I fear your technique may be lacking,” the Duke remarked with a smirk.
Bridget shot back, her voice laced with irritation, “Your Grace, I may lack your… finesse, but at least I don’t rely on empty bravado to compensate for my shortcomings.”
As the Duke swung his mallet hust to fail again, Hector, ever the instigator, interjected with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Oof, it seems Bridget struck a right nerve. Or perhaps her observations hold some truth?”
Still annoyed at him for placing her in her current predicament, Bridget snapped, “Brother, do us all a favor and hold your tongue. Your meddling only adds fuel to this unnecessary fire.”
Abel, taken aback by her outburst, scoffed in disbelief, “You would speak to your elder brother in such a manner? Have you no respect?”
“Oh, forgive me.” Her smile turned saccharine, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Would you prefer if I directed my…yelling at you instead?”
She made sure to raise her voice at the last part of her question, letting out a loud yell that nearly echoed through the garden.
Abel’s jaw dropped in shock. Flustered and speechless, he looked around for support, hoping to find someone who shared his disbelief.
Unfortunately for him, only Hector’s stifled chuckles filled the air, while Elliot and Olivia, after a few glances, remained blissfully focused on each other.
Bridget, nonchalant and composed, stuck her nose in the air, dismissing his disapproval and returning her attention to the game, leaving him fuming in her wake.
“You… You…” he began sputtering. No man had ever dared raise his voice at him, much less a woman. “You truly are mannerless and unladylike! Unbefitting of your title!”
But Bridget retorted immediately, her voice sharp and commanding, “Save your critiques for your own stance in this game, Your Grace. It could use some correction.”
He growled in frustration, the tension between them reaching its peak. “Is that so? Well, I shall show you how it is done right this second.”
“No, you shall not. I believe it ismyturn to strike.” Bridget hurried to stand in position in his stead.
In a fit of anger, they both swung their mallets with great force, accidentally sending the ball flying into the nearby bushes.
“Now look what you’ve done! You’ve ruined the game!”
“Me? It was clearly your fault! You’re the one who can’t control her temper!” Abel’s eyes were filled with accusation as he pointed at her.
They exchange glares, scoffing and huffing in disbelief, each refusing to take responsibility for the mishap.
“Honestly, I can’t fathom how you’ve managed to survive this long with such an inflated ego. Your arrogance knows no bounds!” Bridget gritted her teeth as he tossed his mallet to the ground in annoyance.
“And I can’t fathom how you’ve managed to be so insufferable, Lady Bridget!” The Duke’s face flushed with indignation.
“Insufferable? Coming from a man who thinks the world revolves around him! Coming from a man who continuously refuses to take accountability!”
“At least I have the grace and manners to carry myself like a gentleman,” Abel shot back.
“Gentleman? Ha!” Bridget scoffed. “I must say, you’re more akin to a pompous peacock, Your Grace.”
The Duke raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with condescension. “Yet again, Lady Bridget, your audacity to challenge me is truly remarkable.”
They stood face to face, their gazes locked in a battle of wills as Bridget pressed on, “I refuse to be silenced by a man who believes himself superior simply because of his title.”
“And this is something I said? Or could this be your presumed notions you jotted down in private journals, screaming your obsession with me?”
As the two continued their heated exchange, the rest of the group stood aside in shock and an increasing weariness. At last, Hector, unable to bear the noise any longer, found his voice.
“Enough!” he exclaimed, his tone filled with exasperation. “See here, I think I speak for the rest of this group when I say that we’re all tired.”
