“They’re in my bag.”
“Thank goodness, because with Mother fussing over me before we left for the day, I completely forgot we’d need them.”
Thankfully, Hannah took that moment to hurry toward them, carrying Gwendolyn’s large bag. After retrieving a few tennis balls and sticking them in the pocket of her tennis skirt, as August stuffed a few balls into his pockets as well, she sent Hannah to the sidelines and lifted her chin.
“Here goes nothing,” she said, tapping her racquet against August’s racquet as they took up their positions on the court.
“Ready?” Tillie all but chirped.
“Absolutely,” Gwendolyn called back, barely having a second to get a firm grip on her racquet before Tillie sent a ball whizzing her way, one she swung at late and missed.
Additional balls followed in quick succession, shot over the net by Tillie, then by Russell. While Gwendolyn managed to hit two of them back and August hit all the balls sent his way—although his rarely landed in bounds—it was clear Tillie and Russell had come for blood.
Stalking up to the net, Gwendolyn narrowed an eye on Tillie. “Forgive me, Miss Wickham, but it’s been my experience, when warming up, players are supposed to volley the ball gently back and forth.”
Tillie frowned. “That’s what I’ve been doing.”
“Me as well,” Russell added as they exchanged genuinely bewildered looks between them.
“And isn’t this going to be amusing,” August murmured behind her.
“Indeed.” Gwendolyn summoned up a smile. “I believe all of us are sufficiently warmed up, so what say we get this match underway?”
After losing the choice to serve first to Tillie and Russell, it quickly became apparent she and August were overmatched, because it was a disaster from the start, but not a disaster for Tillie and Russell. They racked up point after point, winning the first three games, although Gwendolyn was satisfied she and August had at least scored a few points against them.
When she and August actually won game number four, Gwendolyn headed to where Hannah was holding glasses of water for them, gulping it down as August did the same.
“You’ve got them on the run now, Mr. Ryerson,” Hannah said, handing August a towel she’d pulled from Gwendolyn’s bag.
As he mopped off his face, August’s lips quirked. “That’s kind of you to say, Miss Howe, but I have the sneaking suspicion they went easy on us that last game.”
Hannah frowned. “Why would they do that?”
“They’re playing to the crowd.” Gwendolyn nodded to where the large gathering of Newport Casino guests had resumed their seats. Most of the guests had taken to standing as Gwendolyn and August had been handed their hats to them for the first three games, only rallying in the fourth because the velocity of Tillie’s and Russell’s return volleys seemed to have diminished enough to where she and August had been able to not only return the ball but place the ball in bounds, since they’d not had to cower every time a ball came slamming its way over the net.
“Why would they play to the crowd?” Hannah pressed. “Everyone seems to be rooting for the two of you.”
August took another swipe at his face. “I’d say they don’t want the crowd to be completely sympathetic to us, nor do they want everyone saying they’re showing bad sportsmanship by beating Gwendolyn and me into the ground. You mark my words, they won’t go easy on us again. I predict the next two games are going to go rapidly, and not in our favor.”
Truer words had never been spoken. By the middle of the sixth game, Gwendolyn’s hair was soaked with perspiration, she was developing a blister on her right heel, and August’s pristine white tennis clothes were streaked with smears of blood, a result of the numerous falls he’d sustained as he’d tried to return Russell’s wicked serves, as well as Tillie’s.
“Only one point left to win,” Tillie called to Russell, who nodded as he bent forward, swinging his racquet to and fro.
A second later, Tillie tossed the ball into the air, bringing her racquet up to meet it and then sending it barreling Gwendolyn’s way with so much force it was next to impossible to keep her eye on it. To Gwendolyn’s astonishment, she somehow managed to return the serve, although Russell was waiting for the ball at the net.
As if in slow motion, she watched him reach overhead with his racquet and, in an impressive move, smash the ball over the net, directly toward her.
Before she could do more than blink, August was sailing through the air, blocking the ball from hitting her, not with his racquet but with his face.
He went tumbling to the ground a second later, not moving a muscle as Gwendolyn rushed to join him, wincing when she caught sight of a nose gushing blood.
“Good heavens, August,” Gwendolyn said. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking you wouldn’t want to be sporting a black eye like Miss Lowe.”
Gwendolyn’s lips curved. “And that right there is one of the most chivalrous gestures I’ve ever seen a gentleman make, and means I’m going to find you the love of your life, no matter if Mrs. Parker wants to take you on or not.”
She lifted her head and gestured to Hannah, who was already rummaging around Gwendolyn’s large bag. “We need another towel, Hannah, and perhaps some water.”
Hannah was by August’s side a moment later, dousing the towel in her hand with water before she pressed it ever so gently against August’s nose.
“That was the most beautiful defense of a lady I’ve ever witnessed,” Hannah whispered.
August’s face turned redder than it already was from his past exertions before he shot a quick glance Gwendolyn’s way.
After sending him a wink, Gwendolyn straightened and made her way to where Tillie and Russell were standing by the net, both looking as if they had no idea what to do next.
She held out her hand to Tillie. “What a remarkable show of your skills today, Miss Wickham. It’s a shame women don’t compete professionally in tennis, because you can hold your own on a court.”
“Is August going to be alright?” Tillie whispered.
“He might have a broken nose, but he seems to be in fine spirits.” She turned to Russell, who was looking surprisingly contrite.
“Please know I didn’t deliberately try to maim you,” Russell began. “It was instinctive. But allow me to say I was quite amazed by the backhand you used to return Tillie’s serve. You may turn out to be a formidable tennis opponent one day, if you take to practicing, of course.”
“Encouraging words indeed coming from you, Mr. Damrosch, but I have to admit the backhand I used was simply a defensive gesture, and it would have been more amazing if I’d hit it hard enough that you wouldn’t have been able to return it, which would then have spared August a broken nose.”
“I should go speak to him.”
As Russell and Tillie hurried around the net to speak to August, who was now sitting up as Hannah continued fussing over him—something they both seemed to be enjoying, which was rather curious since blood was involved—Gwendolyn caught sight of Priscilla and Samuel running across the court. She smiled and kneeled when they reached her, accepting the hug Priscilla gave her and grinning when Samuel gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder.