Page 48 of Whiskers and Wiles

“Shake the bucket so that the heavier balls drop to the bottom,” Kat said, pulling her hand that was fastened to Waldorf’s back out of the impossible sea of balls.

“Good thinking,” Waldorf said, then gripped the sides of the bucket to shake and jostle it for a moment. Once he put it down, he said, “Nothing was said about spilling the wooden balls, so shovel them out of the bucket if that helps reach the bottom.”

Kat nodded, and within minutes, they were able to locate all five metal balls, which looked remarkably like the wooden ones, and hand them off to one of the footmen who was refereeing the race.

From there, it was more running, but Kat and Waldorf had improved their ability to run in unison a great deal. By the time they reached the lemon trees, only two couples were ahead of them, one of which was Lord and Lady Postern.

“Hold the basket with our joined hands and pick with your free hand,” Kat instructed Waldorf as they reached for the basket.

Waldorf nodded, and they set to work. The tree was larger than it had appeared across the lawn, and once they’d picked all of the fruit on the lower branches, they had to stretch and jump to get enough to fill the bucket.

“Do you have the feeling that we are being humiliated for sport?” Waldorf asked once the bucket was nearly full. Sweat dampened his hair, and his face was red.

Kat was certain her gown bore stains from her own perspiration. She laughed ironically, then bent to pick up a few of the lemons they’d dropped. “I believe that all of society is designed to make fools of itself for sport,” she said.

“An astute observation, Lady Katherine,” Waldorf said, his eyes dancing with mirth as she rose, added the last few lemons to the basket, then shifted to work out how to best carry the full load back to the other side of the lawn as quickly as possible.

Kat laughed…then stopped herself with a gasp. A great many things suddenly became clear to her as she and Waldorf started back across the lawn, only Lord and Lady Postern ahead of them. Lady Walsingham was a diabolical genius. Her words were all froth and fluff, and the race was as preposterous as Waldorf had said it was. But she and Waldorf were working together as they never had before. They had the same goal in mind and a matching will to be the victors.

As mad as it was to be physically fastened to each other, if they wanted to win, they had to speak to each other andannounce their movements the entire time. Neither of them could keep themselves to themselves or shut the other out.

“Hurry!” Waldorf shouted when they were halfway across the lawn. “I think we can beat them.”

Kat put everything she had into matching her swift steps with Waldorf’s and in keeping all their lemons in their basket. They hadn’t lost a single one by the time they reached the table that had been set up after the race had begun. They reached it only moments after Lord and Lady Postern reached their table.

The maddest part of the race happened next, as Kat and Waldorf, and Lord and Lady Postern, reached for sharp knives that had been set out on the table to slice the lemons. Again, the fact that Waldorf’s dominant hand was tied to Kat’s made for an alarming exercise in speed and care as they both sliced open lemons and worked to squeeze the contents into a large glass in front of them.

Kat nearly dropped her knife when Lady Postern cried out in pain.

“Keep your hand steady, woman,” Lord Postern growled as a tiny bit of blood dripped from one of Lady Postern’s fingers.

Kat stilled her dominant hand while relaxing her non-dominant one so Waldorf could continue slicing and squeezing lemons. “Madam, are you injured?” she asked Lady Postern.

“I am well,” Lady Postern said breathlessly.

“Kat,” Waldorf drew Kat’s attention.

He had finished filling the cup with lemon juice to the prescribed line. Kat grabbed the jug of sugared water beside the mess they’d made and filled the glass the rest of the way. They then reached for the glass at precisely the same time…and knocked it over.

“Lord and Lady Postern are the winners!” Lady Walsingham declared a moment later.

“Why did you knock the glass over?” Kat demanded of Waldorf, frustrated beyond belief.

“You were the one who upset it,” Waldorf snapped in return. “I was doing just fine until you flailed right into me.”

“I had my hand around it already,” Kat growled, tugging at her wrist to get away from Waldorf.

A footman was on hand with a pair of scissors to clip the ribbon joining their wrists, and when he did, Kat pulled her arm away and rubbed her wrist.

“Infernal woman,” Waldorf snapped at her, then sucked on one of his fingers, where he’d apparently nicked himself, then doused the wound in lemon juice.

“Serves you right,” Kat snapped.

She attempted to turn around and march away, but her ankle was still tied to Waldorf’s. Instead of making a powerful exit, she spilled flat to her face in the grass. The momentum of her fall was enough to take Waldorf down with her.

“And this is why it is of vital importance that we remain in accord with our beloveds at all times,” Lady Walsingham said, crouching to help the two of them, which she did most effectively by untying the ribbon joining their ankles. “Occasional squabbles will always take place between even the most devoted of couples, but they can all be resolved with a genuine determination to work out what is best for both.”

Kat was fairly certain she loathed Lady Walsingham in that moment. Almost as much as she loathed Waldorf.

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