Moderately scored, indeed.
Michael stared at the cards, his mind spinning on various quips that might dissuade any discussion on his reasons for inattention. He forced himself to smile, then looked up at Hugh. “I am a terrible whist player. Didn’t I say that?”
Hugh rolled his eyes and chuckled. “No, I don’t believe so.” He looked at Miss Palmer. “Won’t you give up your cousin and partner me? You’ve clearly got an eye for the game, unlike someone else.”
Miss Palmer smiled swiftly and began to carefully reorganize the cards in her hand. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Sterling. I am quite satisfied with my partner, and the current course of the game.”
“That’s because you’re winning,” Michael pointed out.
Miss Palmer’s smile turned crooked, and she raised a brow. “Winning is a satisfying thing, and I’ll not deny it. But I hardly think you can justify saying my cousin and I are winning when we have not even finished a round yet.”
“No, indeed,” Mrs. Greensley insisted with a light laugh. “It could all change in the next round, and I believe we’ll still be enjoying ourselves.”
“I certainly intend to,” Miss Palmer agreed as she laid her card down. “Imagine if we only enjoyed the things we won at. Everyone would be miserable all the time!”
Hugh grunted once but smiled. “Spoken like a fair-minded woman. Men, on the other hand, are rivalrous to a fault, and are desolated when they lose.” He held out a hand towards Michael. “Is it not so?”
Michael heaved a sigh, shaking his head. “It is so. Many a man has been called out for cheating when all he has done was win. We simply cannot accept anything less than victory.”
Miss Palmer seemed to consider that, her expression still playful. “Perhaps this is why women live longer than men.” She swept the cards to her, having won the trick, and shrugged her shoulders. “Contentment and proper enjoyment.”
“Very likely,” Michael allowed, “and a distinct lack of stupidity.”
“That would depend on the individual,” Mrs. Greensley chimed in, a devious glint in her eye. “There are plenty of females who lack intelligence in even the most basic of subjects.”
“I could never say such a thing, nor will I be found agreeing to it.” Michael shook his head very firmly, pointedly laying his card.
Miss Palmer giggled softly, the sound warm and natural rather than the forced trill of high-pitched tones he’d heard from so many other ladies. “But you won’t argue against it?”
Smiling, Michael again shook his head. “I make it a point to never argue with ladies.”
Hugh snorted softly, laying the final card and taking the trick. “Is that meant to be gallant or self-preserving?”
“Both, ideally.” He offered the table a cheeky grin. “The only exception would be my sisters, and the older they get, the less likely I am to argue about anything at all.”
“For gallantry or self-preservation?” Miss Palmer asked as Hugh shuffled the cards and prepared to deal.
Her wit earned her a smile from Michael, as well as an additional mark of respect, though such a thing was less easily displayed.
“Neither, in their case,” Michael admitted fondly. “It’s the utter futility of the thing.”
That made her laugh again, this time more fully, and the sound was more captivating than anything he’d felt towards her yet. “Oh, Mr. Sandford, that is too perfect.”
“As a brother to a sister myself,” Hugh broke in, his tone serious, “I concur. There is no winning.”
“It comes with sisters, I’m afraid,” Mrs. Greensley admitted. She sighed and took a sip of the Madeira beside her. “The moment they learn the value of opinion, there is no stopping it.”
Miss Palmer made the gentlest scoffing sound known to man and gave her cousin a look. “Come, come, you cannot think all sisters everywhere are like Lucy.”
Mrs. Greensley grimaced, then looked around at them all. “Let it be known that I was not the one to mention a particular sister by name. I’ll not take the blame, should rumors abound.”
“So noted,” Hugh and Michael said together, almost solemnly.
“But that would mean she would come against me,” Miss Palmer pointed out, mock effrontery on display.
Mrs. Greensley gave her a pitying smile. “Alas, my poor cousin. I shall weep prodigiously at your funeral.”
Michael chuckled to himself and looked between the ladies. “You never had the same trouble with another sister, Mrs. Greensley?”
She met his eyes, smiling congenially. “Not in the same way, no. Each sister has her own particular blend of mischief and mayhem, but I have found that each has some of both.”
“Not Mary, surely,” Miss Palmer protested.
Mrs. Greensley’s look was answer enough, though she added, “Even Mary, my dear. We are so close in age that going to the dressmaker would cost our parents less because they would get half the number of dresses and expect us to share.” She huffed, as if the memory of several fights on the subject still caused irritation. “It was a blessing when she married Captain Gracie, in a number of ways.”
“I did not know she had married him,” Michael said in surprise, smiling warmly. “My felicitations. When was that?”
“This winter,” came the reply, “which is likely why you did not hear of it. They married and almost immediately set sail for the West Indies for his next posting.”
“It was a beautiful service,” Miss Palmer told the group. “Short, but lovely. And really, what is there to say besides the pronouncement of man and wife?”
Michael played the four of spades, looking at Miss Palmer with a rueful smile. “I do believe there are some vows…”
“One or two,” Hugh added with a nod. “I barely recall mine. I was too distracted by my bride.”
“You called?”
Michael groaned as Elinor approached, not that it should be an evil, but for the simple effect her presence would have on Hugh. As expected,
