The temperature outside was pert near perfect. Thomas stood back and watched as the other four players chose their matching mallets and balls. Miss Everson scooted ahead of everyone, picking a bright green set. Archie waved Miss Johnson forward. She chose orange, which made Thomas think of his childhood Christmases and the lone orange with a handful of nuts and either a shiny red apple or a grapefruit tucked into his stocking. The only time of the year they had oranges when he was growing up. His mouth watered.
Miss O’Hara chose a sunny yellow, and Archie reached for the black. “At least I’m not going to get the color matching my name this time.”
A few nervous—or maybe embarrassed—titters from the ladies followed his comment.
“In a book I read a few summers ago,” Bessie said, “the heroine in the story played croquet with the queen. But instead of using balls, they used hedgehogs, and instead of mallets, they used flamingoes. They didn’t follow any set rules, either. Everyone just played when they wanted. In fact, if I remember right, the hoops were all soldiers bending over backward.”
Archie blinked at her. “We have no hedgehogs, flamingoes, or soldiers here. The fort was abandoned seven years ago.”
“So you like to read, Bes…uh, Miss O’Hara?” Thomas asked. That would be a plus on the long, dark, frigid Upper Peninsula nights.
“She’s a regular bookworm,” one of her cousins said dryly. Thomas didn’t catch which one.
The tiny tip of Miss O’Hara’s tongue caught his attention as she ran it over her lips. She dipped her head, her face flushed.
What? It wasn’t anything to be embarrassed about. “I like Mark Twain’s writings. And Charles Dickens.”
She glanced up, a tiny smile flickered then grew. “I love to read.”
Obviously, since she’d been described as a bookworm, but that was a start at having a conversation. He grinned back at her. “What else do you enjoy, Miss O’Hara?”
She looked away.
“She’s quite an accomplished pianist.” Miss Everson lined her ball up in front of the first set of double hoops and took aim. But it wasn’t a very good shot, and the green ball stopped halfway through the first hoop. But since it was halfway, it counted as going through, so she got another shot.
“I can’t wait to hear you play sometime. Maybe I could come calling.” What was he thinking? He’d been much too bold, and his face heated. He should deflect some of his attention toward the others, as if he meant the trio, not her personally. “Are you ladies taking callers?”
“That would be lovely.” Miss Everson straightened after tapping her ball. “We arrived ahead of our families. They’re assuming all the events we attend will be well chaperoned.” She shrugged. “But our mothers will arrive within a few days, and our fathers at the end of the month. Perhaps then we could send you and Mr. Asparagus an invitation to dinner.”
“Perfect.” With a smirk, Archie lined up his black ball and hit it through both hoops, knocking the green ball so that it rolled several feet away from the hoops. Two free shots for going through the hoops, and those shots put him through the next hoop.
He moved quickly through the course, hitting the ball through the double hoops at the end, hitting the stake, then moving the ball enough to knock it back through the hoops.
Thomas swallowed the urge to tease Archie in order to throw his game off. Maybe he could complain that he went out of bounds. But since they hadn’t established boundaries at the beginning, he didn’t want to offend the ladies and make them think he was grumbling. Especially not Bessie—Miss O’Hara.
Bessie took aim with her mallet, sending the yellow ball through both hoops.
Archie stopped in the middle of the playing field and put his hands on his hips. “My turn wasn’t done. I still have two free shots for knocking the ball through the wickets.”
“Perhaps I want to play with no rules, like in the story I told you about.” Bessie flashed a cheeky grin toward Archie.
Thomas took his chances, defending Bessie. “You went out of bounds anyway.” He pointed to where Archie’s black ball rested at the base of a tree. “You can move it into the playing area, but you forfeit your move.”
Archie smirked. “Of course, you’d take the side of the ladies, Tommy. No rules it is, then, Miss O’Hara. And may I suggest changing it to a game of Poison? If I hit your ball, you’re out of the game.”
Bessie’s chin rose. “You’re on.”
“That’s not exactly fair.” Miss Johnson clutched her mallet close to her chest.
“Perhaps we could postpone the game of Poison until after the current game,” Thomas suggested. “And we could play by the rules this round.”
“And I suppose you’ll be the judge and jury about whether we do or not.” Archie tilted his head, the smirk still in place. “Want to establish the boundaries, too? Goes along with being a bigshot businessman, does it not?”
Thomas glowered at Archie. He didn’t want to talk about this. Wasn’t it the business that had caused the embarrassing public breakup with Pauline and his self-induced exile to Mackinac Island?
Bessie had never enjoyed a game of croquet more. Of course, flamingo mallets and hedgehog balls might have made it more interesting, with the hedgehogs unrolling themselves and wandering off and the flamingoes trying to bite or peck, or whatever that type of bird did. The birds probably wouldn’t have appreciated being held upside down and used to whack hedgehogs.
But between Mr. Asparagus and Mr. Hale playfully arguing over whether a ball was out or not and trying to keep track of who got a ball through the hoops and how many extra turns they got, the game was interesting enough. Mr. Asparagus had even tried to teach Henrietta how to aim the mallet, since her ball usually only rolled an inch or two before it abruptly stopped. She claimed the ball had it in for her.
“Sorry, Miss O’Hara.” Mr. Hale put his mallet behind the matching ball—which was behind hers—and with one solid thump sent her ball flying off into the bushes.
“Of all the…” She scampered off, fighting her way through skinny twiglike branches loaded with leaves and tiny red berries. The bush honeysuckle plants were every bit as tall as she was. It seemed as if a bright yellow ball would be easy to find, like sunshine in the shadows, but she appeared to be wrong. She couldn’t see it anywhere. Not even a hint of yellow.
It might have rolled down the incline and into the water. A terrible thing. Unlikely though, since it would have to go through the bushes, followed by a field of weeds, then a rocky beach before it reached the lake.
She didn’t want to be responsible for ruining Mr. Asparagus’s set.
Bessie looked down at her dress. Would she get stains on it if she dropped down to crawl around under the bushes? She’d have to take her chances. Maybe if she didn’t sit all the way down, but kind of crouched…
She hiked up her skirt and squatted, bending over to peer under the other nearby bushes. Nothing.
Branches moved, stabbing at her.
“Sorry.” Mr. Hale joined her in the bushes and sat beside her. “I didn’t mean to hit it so hard. I certainly didn’t mean for it to go flying off into this impenetrable abyss. Things roll under here and are never seen again.”
A shiver worked through Bessie that had nothing to do with fear. “Really?”
“Oh, yes. Super dangerous. Especially for innocent young ladies. And croquet balls, of course. Badminton birdies, too. Not sure how many of them have flown in here. Never found a one of them.” He shook his head, frowning. But his lips twitched.
Her eyes narrowed as he focused on glancing around again. His presence beside her made her thoughts hazy. All she could think of was him, and the warmth that worked through her. Not to mention the minty scent of him, as if he’d chewed some peppermint leaves before joining her.
Something caught her attention and she looked closer. Was that…Maybe…
“I think I see it.” She pointed. “There’s something yellow, about five feet ahead. Of course, it might be a dandelion. There are a bunch of them.”
“Where?” He brushed some branches out of the way and narrowed his eyes. “Ah, a field of dandelions. Don’t tell Archie. He thinks they’re weeds. Personally, I like dandelion salad. Do you?”
“I don’t know.” She started to rise, but Mr. Hale touched her hand, sending sparks all the way up to the elbow.
“I’ll go see. We certainly don’t want you falling into the abyss.”
Bessie wasn’t sure if the fluttering movement of his lashes was caused by a wink or if a leaf-laden branch had caught a breeze and moved.
But his lips quirked and he squat-walked through the bushes toward the field of yellow and carefully unearthed the ball from among the dandelions. The ball gripped in one hand, he held up a birdie in the other.
“Badminton. Maybe we should go crawling around back here another day. No telling what we’d find.” This time, a wink did accompany the words.
There wasn’t any reason for the shivers to work through her again, but they did.
Thomas followed Miss O’Hara around the croquet game like a besotted pup the entire afternoon. Rescuing her runaway ball when it went out of bounds again. Suggesting ways to position herself for the best possible shot. He couldn’t resist, even though she didn’t need much help. She was a much better croquet player than she gave herself credit for. Better than her cousins.
Archie won, of course. Nobody ever beat Archie at croquet. Except Thomas. Once. But that was only because he’d hit Archie’s ball out of bounds during a game of Poison—his, and everyone else’s balls, making Thomas the automatic winner.
Miss O’Hara had a great sense of humor, teasing when appropriate then discussing books and music and the masquerade ball last night—though she didn’t mention their moonlight dance beside the softly lapping lake water. Maybe she didn’t realize it had been him. Probably just as well.
Plus, she knew when to be quiet—at least compared to her giggling, twittering cousins. She certainly didn’t talk as much as Pauline had. The more Thomas witnessed, the more he liked. Whatever had attracted him to Pauline? It must have been the way she latched on to his arm, his life, and didn’t let go until he failed to meet her expectations. But what had she intended him to do? Father had sent him to Europe for business. He’d done as his father requested—even though Pauline’s father advised against it. Thomas had made the arrangements and signed the contract. Mission accomplished.
At least until…
Thomas sighed, assailed by memories of Pauline’s shrieks of rage and horror followed by all sorts of false accusations. He’d almost expected police sirens to wail. Escorts to prison…He shook his head, forcing the thoughts away. He’d never marry, thanks to Pauline. His reputation was ruined. Ruined!
Maybe Archie’s idea of a wedding reenactment wasn’t such a bad idea. Thomas would stand next to her—the woman of his dreams—in the field of dandelions—well, maybe not there—and pretend Bessie really was his bride. And he’d have the picture to prove it. Or maybe not prove it, but to continue fooling himself into believing such a fairy tale could possibly come true, if only in his dreams.
But wishing wouldn’t get her into his arms.
Nothing but a miracle of God would accomplish it.
And God had abandoned him on a busy street in downtown Berlin, Germany.
God and the rest of polite society.
Only Archie hadn’t abandoned him. Archie, and these lovely ladies who apparently didn’t know about his ruined reputation. The lies and distrust surrounding his name. And when they did…
If God heard him, and if He listened, then he’d pray, and say something like, Lord, please let the wedding go off without a hitch.
But it wasn’t a prayer. God didn’t listen or hear him.
And the marriage would be as real as the polite smiles and kind words murmured in public. As the lies discussed in private.
He shoved his hand into his pocket. It closed around the badminton birdie he’d stuffed in there and forgotten to give to Archie. He crushed it in his grip then eased it out of his pocket and handed it to his best friend.
His only friend these days.
Archie tilted his head. “Where did you find this?”
“In the dandelion field.” Thomas nodded toward the bush honeysuckle plants. “Before the slope down to the water. And if you don’t have another place for the wedding reenactment in mind, I would love for it to be among the dandelions.”
Archie’s lips quirked. “You’d be off to a weedy start.”
Thomas expected nothing more.