Page 62 of Empowered By the Earl (Second Sons of London 3)

“I suppose we will have to watch the others,” Miss Rexford said. “How boring.”

Hampton suggested a stroll in the gardens to her and the pair left the others. Owen and Miss Oxford remained behind, cheering on their hosts.

The next round commenced, with the four remaining teams all taking turns and rolling four balls per team. After rolls were made and measurements taken, Ev and Adalyn, as well as Marksbury and Lady Sara, took to the sidelines.

“It’s a showdown, Boxling,” proclaimed Lord Hurley, who smiled at Louisa. “But I have faith my partner and I will prevail.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain,” Boxling retorted. “Miss Peterson is improving with every roll.”

Miss Peterson smiled broadly with the viscount’s praise.

The two couples shook hands and Boxling again won the mat and rolled the jack into place.

“A well-placed jack, my lord,” Louisa praised.

Jealousy flooded Owen at the smile she gave Boxling.

“Who will we cheer for this round, my lord?” Miss Oxford asked him.

He had forgotten she was still by his side. It would stick in his craw to cheer for either man.

“I don’t care. You choose, Miss Oxford.”

Worry filled her face. “Oh, I don’t know. Both men are so athletic. And Miss Goulding and Miss Peterson have both gotten better as the competition has gone on.”

“Then we should cheer all the good rolls and let the best team win,” he told his partner.

She brightened. “What a clever idea, my lord.” With that, she slipped her hand through his arm.

Maybe she wasn’t as much of a featherhead as he had thought.

He hoped Louisa saw the gesture.

No, she was too busy flirting with both Hurley and Boxling. Irritation rippled through him in waves. Why had he thought Hurley a good match for Louisa? He had been wrong about that.

Actually, he had been wrong about other things.

The only thing he wasn’t wrong about was wanting Louisa.

For himself.

This arbitrary timeline he had spouted about waiting years to wed was foolish. Tessa—and the others—had been right. Louisa Goulding was perfect for him in every way. Cultured. Polished. Beautiful. Intelligent. Why should he allow one of his peers to snatch such a gem from under his nose when it was obvious they were suited in every way?

Determination filled him. No other man was right for Louisa except him. He would have to let her know that he’d had a change of heart. He would offer for her and make her his countess.

He watched as Miss Peterson rolled her first time, followed by Boxling. Both did well. Louisa came next and surprised him by surpassing Miss Peterson’s effort and coming close to where Boxling’s bowl had landed. Hurley followed and his bowl came to land a hare’s breadth from the jack.

“Are you sorry we aren’t in the finals, my lord?” asked Miss Oxford.

“Not at all,” he replied, keeping his eyes fixed upon the contestants.

“You like her, don’t you?”

“Hmm.”

“I said, youlikeher?” Miss Oxford prodded.

“What?”

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