Simon crossed his arms. “I’ll let you think so.” He turned to Kate. “I’ve learned a thing or two about women over the years.”
“Really?” Kate asked, fascinated.
He nodded and leaned in, as if imparting a grave state secret. “They’re much easier to manage if one allows them to believe that they are smarter and more intuitive than men. And,” he added with a superior glance at his wife, “our lives are much more peaceful if we pretend that we’re only aware of about fifty percent of what they do.”
Colin approached, swinging a mallet in a low arc. “Are they having a spat?” he asked Kate.
“A discussion,” Daphne corrected.
“God save me from such discussions,” Colin muttered. “Let’s choose colors.”
Kate followed him back to the Pall Mall set, her fingers drumming against her thigh. “Do you have the time?” she asked him.
Colin pulled out his pocket watch. “A bit after half three, why?”
“I just thought that Edwina and the viscount would be down by now, that’s all,” she said, trying not to look too concerned.
Colin shrugged. “They should be.” Then, completely oblivious to her distress, he motioned to the Pall Mall set. “Here. You’re the guest. You choose first. What color do you want?”
Without giving it much thought, Kate reached in and grabbed a mallet. It was only when it was in her hand that she realized it was black.
“The mallet of death,” Colin said approvingly. “I knew she’d make a fine player.”
“Leave the pink one for Anthony,” Daphne said, reaching for the green mallet.
The duke pulled the orange mallet out of the set, turning to Kate as he said, “You are my witness that I had nothing to do with Bridgerton’s pink mallet, yes?”
Kate smiled wickedly. “I noticed that you didn’t choose the pink mallet.”
“Of course not,” he returned, his grin even more devious than hers. “My wife had already chosen it for him. I could not gainsay her, now, could I?”
“Yellow for me,” Colin said, “and blue for Miss Edwina, don’t you think?”
“Oh, yes,” Kate replied. “Edwina loves blue.”
The foursome stared down at the two mallets left: pink and purple.
“He’s not going to like either one,” Daphne said.
Colin nodded. “But he’ll like pink even less.” And with that, he picked up the purple mallet and tossed it into the shed, then reached down and sent the purple ball in after it.
“I say,” the duke said, “where is Anthony?”
“That’s a very good question,” Kate muttered, tapping her hand against her thigh.
“I suppose you’ll want to know what time it is,” Colin said slyly.
Kate flushed. She’d already asked him to check his pocket watch twice. “I’m fine, thank you,” she answered, lacking a witty retort.
“Very well. It’s just that I’ve learned that once you start moving your hand like that—”
Kate’s hand froze.
“—you’re usually about ready to ask me what time it is.”
“You’ve learned quite a lot about me in the past hour,” Kate said dryly.
He grinned. “I’m an observant fellow.”
“Obviously,” she muttered.
“But in case you wanted to know, it’s a quarter of an hour before four.”
“They’re past due,” Kate said.
Colin leaned forward and whispered, “I highly doubt that my brother is ravishing your sister.”
Kate lurched back. “Mr. Bridgerton!”
“What are you two talking about?” Daphne asked.
Colin grinned. “Miss Sheffield is worried that Anthony is compromising the other Miss Sheffield.”
“Colin!” Daphne exclaimed. “That isn’t the least bit funny.”
“And certainly not true,” Kate protested. Well, almost not true. She didn’t think the viscount was compromising Edwina, but he was probably doing his very best to charm her silly. And that was dangerous in and of itself.
Kate pondered the mallet in her hand and tried to figure out how she might bring it down upon the viscount’s head and make it look like an accident.
The mallet of death, indeed.
Anthony checked the clock on the mantel in his study. Almost half three. They were going to be late.
He grinned. Oh, well, nothing to do about it.
Normally he was a stickler for punctuality, but when tardiness resulted in the torture of Kate Sheffield, he didn’t much mind a late arrival.