A Game of Hearts

by Joanna Barker

“How is it you grow more awful every year?” I took up my quiver and bow, my pulse like a drum in my ears. “That is progress, at least. While you remain precisely the same.”

“What would you suggest?” Uncle asked. “An archery competition, wherein everyone is matched according to their score?” I barked a laugh. “Heavens, no. Then I would be matched with Marigold Cartwell.”

“This seems the lesser of two evils.” “Wonderful,” she snapped. “Now we both lose.” “Better than you winning.”

I’d seen that look so many times over the years. It was a challenge. He was daring me not to back down.

He was the sort of man who liked to control every situation, and he could not control Marigold.

“I assure you, that is not how she used to describe me,” Tristan said. “But then, ladies are not generally supposed to use words of the sort she preferred.” I glared at him, but Mr. Eastbrook only laughed. “I am quite aware of Miss Cartwell’s spirit. It is one of the things I admire most about her.” “Is it, now?” Tristan raised an eyebrow at me. “Well, praise the heavens. We thought we’d never find someone to take her off our hands.”

“I have never been in your hands,” I said, my smile forced and frustrated. “Quite thankfully.”

Mr. Eastbrook smiled. “She has. In fact, I was fortunate to attend one of their practices this afternoon.” “And you survived?” Tristan cut in, seated across the table from me. “I have it on good authority that they use gentlemen like us for target practice.”

Tristan crossed his arms. “Why would I do that? If you marry, I’d finally be rid of you.” I narrowed my eyes. “Ah, so that is your new plan. Marry me off before you have to shoot against me again.” He blew out a breath of exasperation. “Why does everyone think I am frightened of you? Does no one recall that I won our last bout?”

I eyed Mr. Eastbrook across the table. Marigold’s suitor was a dandy if I ever saw one, with his bright clothes and double fob watches. But there was something else about him I did not care for. He was too agreeable. Too eager to please. I knew it was unfair of me to judge that as a failing, but I could not help it.

I pulled back my shoulders. Now was as good a time as any to ruin his day.

“Forgive me, but have you not considered that I might also have changed my mind within the last few days?” My stomach tightened. Had he? “A proposal does not last indefinitely,” he said, setting the ball on the table and leaning over to line up his shot. “I am afraid mine has expired and I will not be issuing a new one.”

He focused all of his attention on his aim, and now I realized why he’d been so irritated the other day when I refused to stop shooting. It was blastedly annoying to talk with someone who couldn’t be bothered to look at you.

“A daydream, Gates? Of me? I hadn’t any idea you felt that way.” I was toying with him and he knew it. A gleam of mischief flashed in his dark eyes. He moved closer, so our joined hands met his chest and our faces were only a few inches apart. “I daresay a man is allowed to dream of his newly betrothed.”

“Pity,” Marigold said, collecting her things from the footman. “I should have liked to see his face when we told him. I daresay he’ll soon like me more than you.” “He already does,” I muttered.

She cast me a despairing look. “We are not married yet, Tristan. You needn’t take such a tone.” I tipped my head. “Tone?” “It is how my papa always sounds when he is placating my mother,” she said, pulling on her gloves. “The tone of a long-married couple.”

I agree to come, then you must promise me your first set and the supper set. There is little point in dancing with anyone else. T. Gates

That scar meant I had survived. That I had people who loved me enough to dig through the night to reach me. I decided right then that every time I noticed my scar, I would say a prayer of gratitude for each and every blessing that I had.

“Have I done something wrong? Are you planning to scold me in private?” “Of course,” I said, moving to the coach. “What is marriage if not a series of lectures?” “To love and to lecture,” he muttered as he followed me.

He raised an eyebrow. “I intend to act as I always have.” “Like you have better things you could be doing with your time?” “Precisely.”

“You are determined,” I said softly, my voice just barely audible above the strains of the violins. “You are talented. You love more fully and deeply than I can ever imagine. It terrifies me, in fact. I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone the way you love.”

“You’ve changed more than you think,” she said. “The Tristan from twelve years ago would never have given me a flower.”

“He might’ve,” I managed. “But there would have been a spider in it.” She laughed, and my chest flared with heat.

Perhaps it is time to stop assuming the worst and instead try to see each other for who we are, rather than who we think the other is.”

it. It was the smile she gave everyone else, the smile she’d withheld from me as long as I’d known her.

He crossed his arms and leaned against the fireplace. “I thought my very best would be necessary, considering.” I looked up at him. “Considering what?” Coultry nearly smiled. “Considering you shall need all the help you can get to convince Miss Cartwell she ought to go through with the wedding.” I laughed. “No loyalty among friends?” “Oh, but we are business partners,” he said. “Only brutal honesty here.”

“Well, I could hardly tell you I made your fair lady the second-best bow. I’d have no peace from you.”

and complain of my boorish husband.”

allowed a small smile. “It is the only way to find a wife of quality these days.”

She reached for my hand and held it tight. She paused, looking up at me and capturing my eyes in hers. “Never say you love less than I do,” she said quietly. “I think you loved very deeply, once.”

She placed her hands on her hips and shot me a calculating look. “How much will you tease me if I ask for your help?” “Only every day for the rest of our lives.” It was an alarmingly valid threat.

“Marigold,” he said fiercely, “I am to be your husband. I will stand by your side, no matter the battles you face. You will never be alone. Not now. Not ever.”

“You mustn’t say such things when I am trying to be obstinate,” I rasped, my voice weak. Tristan’s expression softened. “That is hardly fair. You are always obstinate.”