The Rake’s Christmas Wager (Spinsters and their Suitors #2)

Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

T he morning sunlight spilled across the grounds of Wintervale Manor, reflecting off the blanket of fresh snow that had fallen overnight. The snow stretched out in all directions, soft and pristine, and the air carried the crisp bite of winter that was both invigorating and inviting. From her vantage point at the window, Lily watched as the guests gathered outdoors, their muffled laughter drifting through the stillness as they prepared for a day of winter fun.

Lily hesitated, torn between the warmth of the manor and the temptation to join the others outside. She had never been one for raucous outdoor games, but something about the glittering snow and the light-hearted energy tugged at her. Besides, she had spotted Lord Brinton amongst the group, already deep in conversation with Lord Camden, and a small part of her wondered what mischief he was planning.

“Lily, you must come outside!” Lady Beatrice’s voice cut through her thoughts as she entered the room. She was bundled up in a thick scarf and gloves, her cheeks already flushed from the cold. “We’re organizing a snowball fight, and I won’t hear of you missing it!”

Lily raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint smile. “A snowball fight? I hardly think I’m equipped for such an event.”

“Nonsense,” Beatrice replied, taking her arm and guiding her toward the door. “You’ll be marvelous. Besides, I believe Lord Brinton has already been boasting about his superior aim. It would be a shame if no one challenged him.”

Lily rolled her eyes, though a flicker of amusement tugged at her. “Is that so? Well, I suppose someone must humble him.”

Beatrice laughed, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Precisely! And I think you’re just the person to do it.”

Moments later, Lily found herself stepping out into the cold, her boots sinking into the soft snow as the chill kissed her cheeks. The guests were already scattered across the field, gathering snow into compact balls and forming makeshift teams. Lord Brinton stood near the center, his gloved hands expertly packing snow into a neat sphere as he conversed with Lord Camden, who seemed equally enthusiastic about the impending battle.

Lily tightened her scarf and approached the group, her breath visible in the cold air. Lord Brinton’s gaze flicked to her as she neared, his smile widening in a way that suggested he had been waiting for her to join.

“Ah, Miss Ashworth,” Lord Brinton said, his voice filled with playful confidence. “I see you’ve decided to grace us with your presence. I do hope you’re prepared for the challenge ahead.”

Lily raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a cool smile. “I hardly think a snowball fight qualifies as a challenge, Lord Brinton. But I’m willing to indulge you.”

He chuckled, tossing the snowball lightly between his hands. “A bold statement, indeed. I suppose we shall see soon enough.”

The teams were quickly divided, and it wasn’t long before the snowballs began to fly. The guests darted between trees and bushes, ducking and dodging as they hurled snowballs at one another with varying degrees of accuracy. Lily, though not typically one for such rough play, found herself quickly engaged in the thrill of the game.

She crouched behind a low hedge, her gloved hands expertly shaping the snow into a perfect ball. With a swift, practiced motion, she rose from her hiding spot and aimed carefully, sending the snowball sailing through the air. It struck Lord Brinton squarely on the shoulder, the soft thud followed by a burst of laughter from the nearby guests.

He staggered back in mock surprise, his hand brushing the snow from his coat as he turned to locate the source of the attack. His eyes locked onto Lily, and he grinned, his voice filled with good-natured challenge. “An impressive shot, Miss Ashworth. I wasn’t aware you possessed such skill.”

Lily’s smile widened, her tone light and teasing. “It seems there’s much you don’t know, Lord Brinton.”

Lord Brinton bent down, scooping up another snowball and tossing it in her direction. But his aim was short, and the snowball landed harmlessly near her feet, sending a small puff of powder into the air.

Lily raised an eyebrow, her amusement growing. “Surely you can do better than that.”

Lord Brinton laughed, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t dream of striking a lady.”

“Then you’ve already lost,” Lily replied, quickly packing another snowball and sending it flying through the air. It struck him lightly on the chest, leaving a patch of white against the dark fabric of his coat.

Lord Brinton brushed off the snow with an exaggerated sigh, his grin never faltering. “You’re relentless, Miss Ashworth. I might have to call for a truce.”

Lily laughed softly, crouching behind the hedge once more to gather more ammunition. She found that she was enjoying herself more than she had anticipated, the lighthearted nature of the game allowing her to shed some of her usual reserve. There was something freeing about the simplicity of it—the crisp air, the laughter of the guests, and the playful banter between her and Lord Brinton.

As the battle continued, Lord Brinton attempted a few more throws in her direction, but each one landed near her feet or missed her entirely, as though he were intentionally sparing her. Meanwhile, Lily’s aim remained sharp, and with each successful hit, she felt a small surge of satisfaction. His coat was soon dusted with patches of white, though he took each strike with good humor, his laughter echoing across the field.

At one point, Lord Brinton approached, his hands raised in mock surrender. “I yield, Miss Ashworth. Your aim is far too precise for me.”

Lily tilted her head, feigning consideration. “A truce, you say? And what do I gain in return for my mercy?”

Lord Brinton grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “My eternal gratitude, of course.”

“Gratitude is all well and good,” Lily replied, her tone teasing. “But I think I’d prefer a promise.”

His eyebrows lifted in curiosity. “A promise? And what might that be?”

Lily’s smile was faint but playful. “That next time, you’ll put up a better fight.”

Lord Brinton laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I won’t hit a lady. It’s against my code as a gentleman.”

“Can’t or won’t? Your aim suggests you can’t.” She lifted her chin in challenge.

In response, he picked up a snowball, packing it carefully in his hands. He raised an eyebrow, then he threw the snowball with such force and such speed, it practically whistled through the air. It hit the trunk of a tree, only inches from Lily’s face. The force of the snowball hitting the tree sprayed snow into Lily’s face.

She laughed as the cold, powdery snow hit her cheeks.

“Won’t,” he said.

Satisfied with his response, Lily lowered her snowball, allowing him to step back unharmed. “Touché, Lord Brinton. I shall not disparage your aim anymore.”

He gave her a bow and smirked. “Much appreciated, Miss Ashworth.”

The rest of the group seemed to follow suit, the battle slowly winding down. Guests retreated toward the manor. As they walked back together, Lord Brinton fell into step beside her, his breath visible in the cold air.

“You’re full of surprises, Miss Ashworth,” he remarked, his tone light but laced with admiration. “I must admit, I didn’t expect you to be quite so skilled in the art of snowball warfare.”

Lily glanced at him, her expression measured but amused. “I must acknowledge that your aim is superior, Lord Brinton. Even if you choose not to use it.”

He chuckled softly. “I used it fine, thank you very much.”

They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, the soft crunch of their boots in the snow the only sound. As they neared the manor, Lily found herself glancing at Lord Brinton from the corner of her eye, a question forming on her lips before she could stop herself.

“For as competitive as you are, I’m surprised that you didn’t at least land a snowball on my skirts.” she asked, her voice quiet but curious.

Lord Brinton paused, his gaze flickering to hers. For a moment, he seemed caught off guard by the question, but then his smile returned, softer this time.

“As I said before, it’s hardly something a gentleman would do. Besides, I’m still trying to get into your good graces,” he replied simply.

Lily stared at him, her heart skipping a beat at the unexpected sincerity in his tone. She had expected a clever retort, something charming and playful, but instead, she was met with honesty. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Thank you,” she said finally, her voice soft. “If your reason truly is being a gentleman, then I accept it. But you don’t have to try so hard to stay in my good graces.”

Lord Brinton smiled, his eyes warm. “Is that so?”

Heat warmed her cheeks. She nodded. “It is.”

As they reached the entrance to the manor, the warmth of the house enveloping them once more, Lily couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of contentment settle over her. The snowball fight had been a simple game, but it had offered her something more—a chance to let down her guard, if only for a little while, and to enjoy the company of someone who was beginning to surprise her in ways she hadn’t expected.