Page 39 of The Lady and the Footballer
“You’ll have to try harder than that,” Tommy laughed, and Colin rolled his eyes.
“I’m saving it for the pitch,” he retorted. “Let’s go.”
They lined up against Notts County, the wind biting through the wool of their uniforms as fallen leaves whipped by them. No rain had yet fallen, but heavy clouds loomed overhead, mirroring the restless tension of the players and the gathering crowd, their murmurs sweeping onto the pitch.
Colin forgot everything weighing on him as soon as the game was underway. His responsibilities to the mill, to his family, the niggling feeling that something was wrong with the club, and the pull toward Lily that was becoming harder and harder to ignore.
Instead, he put all of his heart into the game, not letting any Notts County player run by him, the ball moving around his feet like it was meant to be there.
The entire team moved in rhythm, and when the first drops of rain began to fall, Colin welcomed them, for they cooled the heat of his body that came from his exertion and the exhilarationof the game. They were tied as the game's last minutes approached, and when Rhys took the ball in the corner, he lifted his pinkie finger in the air without even looking at Colin.
Colin understood. They had practiced this play time and again.
Rhys kicked it high into the air, sending the ball sailing over the other players – only for Colin to meet it with his forehead, directing it right through the goalposts.
His hands shot above his head as a small cheer broke out from the fans who had made the journey from Manchester while the team mobbed around him as the time stopped and the whistle blew.
They had won the first round of the FA Cup.
It could only get better from here.
Lily tried to keep her excitement from spilling over, but it wasn't easy when Emmaline jumped up and down beside her, clapping excitedly.
Lily was also secretly elated that Colin had scored the final goal, but she couldn’t make it obvious how much she cared.
Fortunately, no one else seemed to be paying much attention, for all those around her were either as happy as she was or bitterly disappointed as they rushed out of the stands and into the rain that was beginning to fall more steadily.
“I think,” her father said once the cheering died, “that you ladies might be our good luck charm.”
Her mother snorted at that, but Lily beamed. She would like to think she was lucky for one man in particular.
Did he know, or care, that she was here today? That she was watching him from the stands, able to see his performance so much more closely than when she was in the carriage?
She had tracked his every movement, especially once the rain had begun and his shirt and pants fitted to his muscled body like a second skin. It was hard to believe he was truly human, so finely molded he was.
His hair was longer than she had realized before the rain weighed down the slight curl. When he pushed it off his face, she wished she could be the one running her fingers through those silky strands.
She was filled with a heady longing that was becoming more impossible to ignore.
Emmaline shocked her out of her reveries when she crushed her in an embrace. “I told you there was nothing better than football!”
She was right, although Emmaline’s reasons for enjoying the sport slightly differed from hers.
“Where do we go now?” she asked her father when the well-wishers stopped shaking his hand for a moment.
“We will have dinner and then return to Manchester on the train,” he said. “We’ll go to The George Hotel to dine.”
“Will the players be there as well?” Lily’s mother asked, wrinkling her nose. Lily’s breath caught as she waited for her father’s answer, although she would prefer a different one than her mother.
“They will,” Lord Harcourt said, “but we will eat separately. The George Hotel has private rooms.”
“Very good,” her mother said as Lily’s father led them down from the stands, lifting the umbrella to hide under as they raced to the waiting carriages.
Lily tried to catch a glimpse of the players, but they were all filing off the field, likely to one of the dressing areas to change before their meal and the train ride home.
Soon enough, they were walking through The George Hotel's front entrance, and she only received a quick glimpse of the warm, comfortable main dining area before they were led into a private dining room off the public area. A gleaming mahogany table sat beneath a crystal chandelier, its candlelight reflecting off gilded mirrors. Velvet drapes muffled the sounds of the bustling inn beyond, creating an air of elegance interrupted only by the soft clink of silverware on fine china.
Lily stopped in the doorway when she noted double the number of needed chairs grouped around the table.
