Page 52 of Her Cursed Duke
“But these days, I’ve noticed a softness to his demeanor. He seems warmer and less angry at the world, and I am so relieved to be able to witness him building relationships and forming possible love connections. I’m proud that he has taken this seriously and has thrust himself into the whole affair—perhaps not wholly, but enough that he is actively participating, and that makes me quite happy.”
She spread out her cards before Martha, picking up her glass of lemonade to take a sip with a coy smile.
The Dowager Countess surveyed the cards before her and nodded grimly. “Be grateful that my granddaughter was raised to be a well-mannered, proper young lady. Otherwise, she would have likely milked your precious godson for all that he is worth.”
Beatrice paled as Martha showed off her cards, her hand very obviously higher. “Oh, bullocks!”
“Don’t curse, Beatrice. What would your godson think of you?”
“Who do you think taught the brat how to curse?” Beatrice grumbled, taking a sip of her drink.
“Another round?” Martha suggested gently, already shuffling the cards.
“Of course. I am not leaving without beating you.”
“Godspeed, friend.”
Back on the lawn, both teams had reached the final point of the game, with one hoop left for their balls to pass through. Agnes and Silas had decided to let the younger duo go first, gently voicing their good wishes—a sweet gesture, even though they all knew Agnes wanted to win the most out of them all.
Aiden turned to Prudence and asked, “Would you like to go first, or shall I?”
Prudence glanced at their balls for a moment and then urged him forward. “You can go first, Your Grace.”
Aiden stepped up to his ball, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration. Then, he pulled his mallet back a few meters and swung confidently. They all watched the green ball roll through the hoop easily, clapping as he returned to Prudence’s side.
He gestured forward with a flourish. “My lady.”
Prudence scoffed in amusement, a light smile on her lips as she stood behind her light purple ball, preparing to swing at it. She inhaled deeply, exhaled and adjusted her stance, tightened her grip on the mallet, and swung, letting out a joyous whoop as her ball went through the hoop.
“Good shot!” Aiden cheered, clapping for her.
She walked back to his side bashfully, feeling oddly proud about a simple game she had never really cared for but played so eagerly this time around. Silas let his wife go first, murmuringwords of encouragement as she got ready to take a shot at her ball, and sighing when she swung but hit it too hard, causing it to bounce off the hoop, sending it in the opposite direction.
“Aw.” Agnes pouted, frowning at her baby blue ball as it rolled past her.
“Oh, darling,” Silas sighed, opening his arms and approaching her.
She turned and immediately walked into his embrace, burying her face in his chest as he pressed little kisses to the top of her head and swayed them from side to side, whispering sweet nothings. Seeing as both of their balls needed to pass through the hoop for them to win, Agnes’s loss disqualified Silas by default, making Prudence and Aiden the winners.
“Well, that was riveting,” Aiden stated, facing his partner with a smile.
“Yes, it was,” Prudence agreed, holding her hand out. “It was fun teaming up with you, Your Grace. Good game.”
Aiden stared at her hand for a moment, then took it in his. But rather than shaking it, he raised it to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it.
“The pleasure was all mine,” he said in a low voice, making her heart skip a beat.
Prudence cleared her throat and pulled her hand away, ignoring the teasing chuckle coming from him as her gaze wandered back to her sister and brother-in-law.
Silas was gently cradling Agnes’s face in his hands, softly encouraging her and telling her that she had done really well and was easily the best croquet player he had ever met—a compliment she really liked, if the blush on her cheeks were anything to go by.
“I told you he’d relent for her,” Aiden pointed out softly.
It was really sweet to see that despite their early arguments, Silas had chosen to dote on his wife rather than tease her for losing. His gentle care for her set something off within Prudence as she watched them, a longing of sorts that she refused to explore further at that moment, deciding instead to focus on how happy she felt.
Right now, all that mattered to her was basking in the warmth and adoration that was spreading from her head to her toes at the sight of the people she cared about the most enjoying themselves by her side.
Prudence dabbed her paint brush against the mixture of pastel blue and yellow on her palette before applying the colors to her canvas in short, brisk strokes.
