Olivia, standing close by, offered an apologetic smile. “It was your first time.”
“That is the thing, dear Olivia—it was not.” Anna had to laugh; there was nothing else she could do.
Not prepared to let her friend be downhearted, Leah stepped in. “Everyone has their gifts, Anna. Yours are of the less physical sort. I know of no one who can bring more cheer to a room than you, and I know of no one who tells stories the way that you do, and yes, I am including Matilda in that. She writes excellent books, butyouare the storyteller.”
“It is no wonder,” Dickie replied, “for she has read every story in existence. If she couldnottell a good story, I would call that time wasted.”
“Would you not call reading stories time wasted anyway?”
Anna turned to see who had spoken, as did everyone else. Percival leaned on his croquet mallet at the periphery of the small group, looking somewhat uncomfortable with so much attention suddenly fixed on him.
“What I mean is,” he hastened to add, “that you might have spent more time playing croquet instead of poring over romantic novels. Then, you might be able to hit a ball through at least one hoop. I expect no one has written a romantic novel set among the perilous world of croquet players, or you would be an expert.”
Max and Dickie laughed at that, and the rest of the group relaxed into chuckles. Everyone but Anna, who could see that he had only added that last part because of the reaction of the others.
“Lady Joanis an excellent croquet player,” she said, tilting her head toward the woman who was about to swing. “Perhaps, you could discuss the merits of the game with her.”
Simon smiled at Anna, drawing her attention away from Percival. “But Lady Joan is too serious about the game, do you not think? I prefer the way you play, with spirit and determination.”
“You are too kind, Lord Luminport.” Anna’s face warmed, for she had never experienced the complimentary words of a potential suitor before. She did not know what to do with herself.
As Simon continued to engage her in conversation, turning the subject toward the earlier discussion of favorite kinds of apples, Anna stole a glance at Percival. He looked as if he had just found a raw oyster in his shoe, shocked and dismayed in equal measure. It was the most open expression she had ever seen upon his face, but the expected satisfaction was not as potent as she had hoped for.
Shaking off the strange confusion that swept through her mind at the sight of that look he was wearing, she decided to concentrate on Simon, ignoring Percival entirely.
It was a good thing, too, for no sooner had she decided to ignore him than he approached Lady Joan, who had just made a direct hit through one of the hoops.
* * *
“You can do it! You are the master of these hoops!” Olivia called from the side of the bowling green.
“We believe in you!” Leah cheered, clapping her hands together.
Nathaniel laughed and joined in with his wife. “Show those hoops that you are a champion, Anna!”
“Remember to breathe!” Simon offered his encouragement, to Anna’s shy delight.
She still did not know what to make of Simon and his quiet attention, but she could not deny that it was a nice feeling to be the one that he sought out, the one he made excuses to be close to. Moreover, he seemed kind, and she liked kind.
In a way, it reminded her of what she had been missing out on, all these years: the conversation, the shy smiles, the awkward jokes, the nervous laughter, and the “getting to know one another” discussions that traversed from the mundane to the mildly interesting.
Anna steadied herself, closing one eye as she glanced from the end of the mallet to the ball, squinting against the sun to see the hoop ahead. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, feeling the balance of the grass beneath.
With a breath, she drew the mallet back for an almighty swing.
“You will never hit it like that!” Percival’s voice stalled her. “Your grip is entirely wrong!”
She slowly lowered the mallet and scowled ahead, to where Percival had positioned himself right in her line of sight. There was no sign of Lady Joan near him, though she had seen the pair talking to one another earlier. She had tried to eavesdrop, but they had been too far away, and she did not want to get into another Lady Eleanor fiasco by involving herself in the conversation.
“I will never hit it if you keep shouting that I will never hit it!” she replied, forcing cheer into her voice. For Simon’s sake, more than Percival’s.
Laughter echoed around the bowling green.
To her alarm, Percival stepped over the low border of the green and began walking toward her. She looked over at her friends and family, their expressions a mixture of amused and disapproving. Simon’s face, however, wore a pensive frown.
“Here, let me show you,” Percival said, as he came up beside her.
Anna clasped the mallet to her chest, keeping her voice hushed as she said, “I do not need your help, Barnacle. Go and stick to someone else.”
