Page 3 of The Lady and the Footballer
For another voice joined the conversation.
Not much caused Colin fear any longer.
But this man, with this tone, very well could, for he held his fate in his hands.
“Colin Thornton! What have you done to my daughter?”
Colin turned slowly to find Viscount Harcourt standing behind him, arms crossed over his chest, a disapproving frown beneath his black mustache on his stoic, hard-lined face.
“Lord Harcourt,” Colin said, his breath still coming in pants. “My apologies. The ball was high.”
“You are here for your worth on the team to be judged, and I am not interested in a player who cannot keep the ball in play.”
“No, sir. My lord. That is, I?—”
“Best stop now,” Tommy murmured.
“Are you all right, darling?” The elegantly dressed woman, whom Colin assumed to be the young lady’s mother, appeared distraught over the girl, who in turn took her friend’s arm to stand, one hand on her head.
“Fine,” Lily said, rubbing her forehead. “It took me by surprise, that is all.”
“I am so sorry,” Colin said, risking Lord Harcourt’s patience as he stepped toward the young woman. “It was my fault. I kicked it too far, and it hit you, Miss?—”
“Miss Evans,” came Lord Harcourt’s voice from behind him. “My daughter.”
“Miss Evans,” he said, attempting patience while apologizing to this noblewoman. However, he did have some sympathy, for it was unlikely she had ever faced pain in her life. “Forgive me?”
As he said the words, she turned away from her mother and toward him, her eyes meeting his, and he suddenly forgot about everything else.
He forgot about Tommy beside him and the team that he desperately wanted to play for. He forgot about the scrimmage and the need to beat the Athletics the following weekend. He even forgot about the team’s new sponsor, Lord Harcourt, andthat the man who held his fate was the father of the woman standing before him.
At that moment, all he could see was the young woman herself.
Her light blue eyes reminded him of the sky on a cloudless day, when the conditions were perfect for a football match. Her hair was pulled away from her face, but a few curls bounced around her cheeks, likely after his ball had unsettled her perfect topknot.
Her cheeks were smooth, her cheekbones high, and her eyes had a gleam that he wanted to learn more about.
“You are forgiven,” she said, her voice clear, soft as velvet, soothing his agitated soul.
Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to hear her speak again.
“You are certain you are well?”
“I am.”
“I believe that her mother and I can determine that quite sufficiently without you, Mr. Thornton. Now, return to the pitch, and I will see to my family. You and I will have a further discussion in due time. Do you understand me?”
Colin nodded to Lord Harcourt, though he could not tear himself away until Tommy’s hand circled his shoulder, and he physically pulled him backward.
He knew what Lord Harcourt was saying without actually putting it into words – that he needed to stay far away from Miss Evans, that it wasn’t his place to look at her, to speak to her, to have anything to do with her.
But those words were lying dormant, for all he could think about was that he very much wanted to see her again.
“Well, well, well,” Tommy said as they walked up the slight incline back toward practice, “the untouchable Colin Thornton has found himself in some trouble.”
Colin swatted away Tommy’s hand, which still rested atop his shoulder. “I am not in trouble, Tommy.”
“Are you not?” Tommy said, lifting a brow, his eyes crinkling, the dimple in his cheek deepening with his grin. “You struck our new sponsor’s daughter in the head. If you don’t watch it, you can say goodbye to your position and the payment you’re counting on to play football.”
