Page 29 of The Lord who Captured Her Innocent Heart
“I’m trying to be serious with you.”
“And I with you,” Peter returned.
They paused for a moment. Another child raced between them. Peter chortled, saying, “It’s as though they haven’t been told we’re having a very serious meeting of the minds.”
“It’s ridiculous, what children think they’re allowed to do these days,” Ella returned, giggling.
Again, they fell to silence. Ella reached up and wrapped a red curl around her ear, seemingly anxious. Peter wondered if her mind was still back there, with Frederick. Again, he marvelled at her ability to give up, despite her aching love for his bumbling fool of a cousin.
Again, he asked himself the nature of his current love for Tatiana. Was it the stuff of madness? Was it the stuff that would really push him to this kind of brink of love and desire and unending work?
For truly, this all seemed like endless work, forcing Tatiana to reconfigure her emotions and then ultimately redirect them towards Peter.
Hours and days and weeks and potentially months of work.
Peter bit the inside of his cheek, pondering this for a long time. Ella remained stalwart, staring at him. People around them seemed to grow progressively more drunk, laughing and tossing their elbows into one another and jeering. Someone in the far corner had begun to suggest that it was nearly time for croquet. The day was brimming with endless excitement. And here, Ella was asking that he make one of the biggest decisions of his life.
He simply wasn’t ready to give up.
He wasn’t the sort.
“I’ll tell you what I’m willing to do, Lady Chesterton,” he said, tilting his head. “I say that we analyse the pair of them for a bit. Let’s watch them in this glorious new couple-ship they’ve created, and see if we think the happiness they’re projecting has any sort of longevity. If we don’t believe it will last, then we can step in and continue our course.”
Ella slipped her hand forward like a member of Parliament brokering some kind of deal. Peter accepted the handshake, grinning broadly. “I suppose we have a deal, then.”
“I suppose we do,” Ella returned.
Chapter 13
“I dare say it’s our turn!” Tatiana cried, tossing her palms towards the sky and nodding towards the open croquet set. “I’ve been aching to play all afternoon. And now that Frederick’s had three glasses of wine, I imagine he’s right on the brink of being not-so-terrible.”
“We’ve played only once together.” Frederick sighed, turning towards Peter. “And I was absolutely atrocious. It’s true. She hasn’t allowed me to forget it for even a moment. Who was I to know that all those hours I spent in a library, I should have spent a bit more time outdoors preparing to play croquet with my future wife?”
Although the words seemed like almost a complaint, Peter saw the glint of appreciation, of joy in Frederick’s eyes. Frederick squeezed Peter’s upper arm as Tatiana hurried through the crowd, eager to hop on the croquet set before another onlooker did it first. Ella followed behind her, her movements slow, methodical. Sadness seemed to lurk in the way she carried her head.
“She seems to have altered the entire way you think of the world, Frederick,” Peter offered, trying not to sound overly sarcastic. He was surprised that even he didn’t hear much sarcasm in his own voice, as though, perhaps in a sense, it was a pure thought.
“Truly, I can’t imagine how I became so lucky,” Frederick said. For a moment, his face became dreamlike, lost. Then, he lurched forward, gripping Peter’s elbow. “Quick! She hates being kept waiting.”
Peter found himself within the rest of the foursome, watching as Ella tentatively reached forward, gripping the croquet mallet. She blinked at it with a moment of confusion, then furrowed her brows, gaping at Tatiana.
“You know I hate this wretched game,” she said with a sigh.
Tatiana giggled. Her black locks had begun to swirl from their up-do, drawing fine black lines down her back. “You always think it’s a bore until you begin to play. Don’t you remember last time? You actually beat me, and you bragged about it endlessly for the next three weeks. It was absolutely the most annoying thing on the planet.”
Peter beamed at Ella, who rolled her eyes back. It seemed clear that she was unwilling to be told what to do, yet would be forced through the course of the game regardless. The sun glittered across her red hair. Something in Peter’s stomach stirred. He turned toward his own croquet mallet, whipping it into the air and then catching it again. He couldn’t have imagined a more perfect day to be outdoors, with some of the greatest people he’d met in his life.
This thought passed over him like rain, without any of the normal pessimism he carried with him. His eyes bulged out for a moment, but he shoved them back in, cleared his throat.
The game began. Tatiana insisted on going first, stating that she was the “bride,” after all, and therefore deserved privileges. Something tightened in Peter’s stomach at this statement, showing a kind of disapproval. But that couldn’t be right, could it? He’d never disapproved, nor been annoyed with Tatiana before.
Tatiana tapped her mallet against a croquet ball, driving the little gleaming thing across the field, towards the arch. She missed by nearly ten inches, casting it far to the right. In response, Tatiana whacked her shin with her mallet, furrowing her brow. She looked every bit a child, rather than a bride.
It was Frederick’s turn. He cleared his throat, lined his body alongside the croquet ball, casting his eyes towards the far arch.
“Come on, darling! You’re taking far too long,” Tatiana teased, seemingly conquering her moment of childlike rage.
“Give me a bit of time, darling,” Frederick muttered.
