She smoothed down her skirt. The paper-wrapped macarons crinkled in her pocket. ‘Are you a sore loser, Mr Joker?’
He cocked his head. ‘Am I losing, Lady Pinkerton?’
Shrugging, Cath scanned the lawn. ‘I’m not sure you’re even still playing. Where has your hedgehog got off to?’
‘Over there.’ He pointed his flamingo towards the corner of the court, where Margaret was attempting to croquet his hedgehog with hers, to rather no avail.
Her screams floated towards them – ‘YOU BLOODY BIRD, CAN’T YOU AIM STRAIGHT FOR ONCE?’ She swung, and the flamingo’s beak glanced off the hedgehog, sending it a fair few inches to the side of Jest’s.
‘Maybe you are winning,’ Catherine mused.
‘I see that not every game piece is in play. Won’t you be joining us?’
‘I’m waiting for the court to open up. I like to have a clear shot.’ Catherine scratched her hedgehog on its soft-tufted chin.
‘Then I shall leave you to your plotting.’
She was a little disappointed as Jest meandered back on to the court.
Margaret had made it to the next hoop, leaving Jest’s hedgehog with a straight pathway. He wasted no time, just shook out the flamingo, lined up the hedgehog with the hoops, swirled the bird in one pinwheel and thunked the hedgehog with precision, sending it beneath two of the arched Clubs.
He had a noticeable swagger as he returned to Catherine’s side a moment later, leaving his hedgehog where it had landed.
‘Nice shot,’ she said.
‘I confess, I am not the type of gentleman to blithely let a lady win.’
She laughed – the sound so sharp it startled her hedgehog and one of its tines poked her beneath her ear. She ducked her head away. ‘A memory regarding corset laces has me questioning whether you’re a gentleman at all, Mr Joker.’
He pressed a hand to his chest, feigning a wound. ‘At least, if I am to be a scoundrel, I’ll be an honest one. Whereas you, Lady Pinkerton, haven’t been entirely forthright.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You had me convinced that you really had no idea the King was in love with you.’
She flushed and stepped closer so she could lower her voice. ‘He is not in love with me.’
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘I may look like a fool, but I assure you I’m not.’
‘He may wish to marry me, or think he does, but that is not the same thing as being in love.’
His frown shifted. ‘I’ll accede that point. But if you don’t think he fancies you beyond what is required in a marriage of convenience, then you are as oblivious as Lady Mearle.’
‘Oh, look!’ Cath interrupted. ‘Jack has just croqueted the King off the court. I’d best go take my shot.’
‘You’re changing the subject.’
‘No, I’m playing croquet.’ She grabbed her bad-breathed flamingo and marched on to the court.
‘Lady Pinkerton?’
She froze and glanced over her shoulder.
Jest had a gentle look, but it wasn’t quite a smile. ‘I believe he honestly cares for you, as well as he can. You needn’t be so humble about it. Doubtless, many of the present ladies would be delighted to catch the eye of our venerated sovereign.’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘And you gave me a difficult time over playing matchmaker.’
Her whole body felt stiff as she approached the start of the course. She saw that three of the Club arches had wandered off and were placing bets on the sidelines, but she hoped they would return by the time she needed them. The King was still chasing down his hedgehog. Margaret and Jack were nearly tied, with Jest still in the lead. As she stood at the start of the course, she spotted Jest returning to the game as well, some bounce missing from his step.
Catherine blew a lock of hair out of her face, frustrated with her behaviour from the past few days. All those dreams, all those fantasies, all that time spent wandering in a giddy daze – all over what? A boy she’d barely met, hardly spoken to, and who, it was quite clear now, had not spent half as much time thinking about her. Who would just as soon see her married off to the King!
He was right. He may be the one dressed like a fool, but it seemed the title was reserved for her.
She noticed Jack stalking towards her, one fat fist strangling his flamingo’s neck. His expression was dark and Cath stiffened before he could reach her.
‘You haven’t even started yet!’ Jack accused. ‘What were you doing, talking to the Joker all this time? Are you playing or not?’
‘It’s no concern of yours who I talk to,’ she spat. ‘And I was just about to start my turn. If you’ll step aside . . .’
Jack snarled and turned to look at the Joker with his good eye. Jest, however, was paying them no attention. ‘You think he’s funny or some such?’
Cath rolled her eyes. ‘Well, I don’t know, Jack. He is a joker.’
‘I think he’s funny looking.’ He faced her again. ‘And so are you, Lady Pinkerton!’
She waved her free hand exasperatedly. ‘Thank you for clarifying that. Could you kindly move so I can take my turn now?’
His face had gone red, but he didn’t move. ‘Did you bring any sweets?’
Cath thought, briefly, of the macarons in her pocket, but shook her head. ‘Not this time, I’m afraid.’
The Knave seemed caught momentarily between staying and going, like he wanted to say more but could think of nothing else worth saying.
Finally, he raspberried his tongue at her, then took off across the court at a quick jaunt.