“When was that?”
“Early May.”
“How do you know he’s in Chicago?” Harrison asked.
“I hired a Pinkerton,” Kit admitted. “He’s been keeping a tab on Forrest for me.”
Unease swept across Harrison’s nape, pressing down on his shoulders. He’d been gone for three years and hadn’t given much thought to those he left behind. Forrest . . . Maddie. Even Kit and Preston had been a distant memory until they came to visit him. “I am sorry. I should have paid better attention.”
“Should have paid better attention to what?”
Silk rustled as Maddie sauntered into the room. Harrison’s heart clenched in his chest, a visceral reaction that occurred every time he saw her. As if the organ belonged to her and only her, and needed to prove it.
Now out of her tennis whites, she’d changed into a dark green day dress that hugged all his favorite curves. Christ almighty, he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her again.
The men rose and Harrison went to kiss her cheek. “Hello, wife.”
After greeting Kit and Preston, she settled in a chair. “This looks cozy. Drinking at noon? Are we celebrating?”
“We are. I’ve just come from calling on my family.”
“I assume that went well, considering.” She swept her hand over the tumblers of scotch and half-lit cigars.
“Indeed, it did.” He gave her a wide grin. “For me, anyway.”
“Congratulations. I assume the takeover is complete.”
“Not quite, but I have controlling interest and I’ll remove my brother as president just as soon as I can call a board meeting.”
“We should be going,” Preston said, finishing his drink and stabbing out his cigar. “And leave the bride and groom to continue enjoying their honeymoon.”
“Agreed.” Kit rose, then bent to kiss Maddie’s cheek. “Not sure if I can make the tournament, so give ’em hell, Maddie.”
“I always do.”
Preston kissed her cheek, as well. “I wouldn’t miss it. I’ll be the one shouting himself hoarse in the crowd.”
Their friends left, then Harrison reached for his wife and pulled her onto his lap. He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “How was practice this morning?”
“Exhausting, but Vallie said he’ll ease up in the days before we leave.”
“You’re going to win.”
“I hope so.” She rested her cheek against his shoulder. “If I weren’t so tired I’d suggest going upstairs and celebrating your victory.”
“Good idea. Let’s celebrate with a nap.”
She chuckled. “You are extremely transparent. That means getting undressed, which will lead to other strenuous activity.”
“Perhaps . . . or perhaps it means merely resting together.” He rose out of the chair, keeping her cradled in his arms. “Let’s go and find out.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Maddie smothered a yawn as she stepped out onto the back lawn. Her husband had kept her up late last night as they celebrated his victory over the Archers. When she left their bed thirty minutes ago, he was still sprawled on his stomach, snoring softly. She added sometimes snores to the list of things she’d discovered about him since they married.
She would’ve loved to sleep in as well, but practice awaited. Valentine, her coach, was probably already here, setting up for their session. After the tournament, however, she swore she wouldn’t rise before noon for an entire month.
Approaching the court, she was surprised to see Vallie holding a shovel. He was scooping something off the court, which he then threw into the brush several yards away. It had looked like a large gray animal of some kind.
“What was that?” she asked when she arrived.
Vallie put the shovel down and dusted off his hands. “An opossum. Another animal must have killed it and left the carcass on the court. I asked the gardeners for a shovel so I might spare you the grisly details.”
“Thank you. Was it awful?”
“Let’s just say that I am glad I possess a hardy stomach. Now, how do you feel this morning?” He clapped his hands together. “Ready to take me on in a match?”
This was new. Normally, he ordered her to repeat the same drills over and over. “No instruction today?”
“We’ll talk about where to improve after. I thought playing a full match would help build up your endurance. Then we’ll ease up from here on out.”
She grinned, anticipation making her bounce on her toes. “I won’t go easy on you and your sore knee.”
He laughed. “The knee’s feeling pretty good this week. I think we can keep up with you.”
“We’ll just have to see, I suppose.” She went to find her favorite racket, then strolled onto the court. They stretched and took the time to properly warm up before starting the match.
She played well, but Vallie showed no mercy. Maddie ended up losing, but just barely. Though she was competitive, she preferred playing against tough opponents. They made her better. It was one of the reasons she liked playing with Harrison growing up, because he never coddled her or eased up because she was a girl.
Her coach wiped his face with a cloth. “The backhand continues to be your weakness. Your hips are not rotating enough into the movement. Any decent opponent will take advantage of it.”
Maddie sighed and quickly drank a glass of lemonade. “We’ve been working on it since April. Before that, probably. I don’t know what else to do.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Vallie said. When she started to argue, he held up a hand. “I know you strive for perfection, which is good, but you have to be patient. Conversely, your short game is much improved and most male players couldn’t return your forehand winner. Does that make you feel better?”
“A little.”
“Good. It also helps that I know your weaknesses and look to exploit them as much as possible. A real opponent won’t do that to you.”
That made sense. “Then I am glad I won’t be facing you in Philadelphia.”
Vallie shifted, then winced as he wobbled. Maddie grabbed his arm to steady him. “You should come inside and rest your knee. I can fetch ice from the kitchens.”
“No, but thank you. When I get home I’ll have my valet rub it with that liniment Bill uses,” he said, referring to his friend, “Roaring” Bill Kennedy, a pitcher for the Bridegrooms. “As you know, it works wonders on aches and pains.”
“At least come through the house instead of going all the way around. It’s shorter.”
Vallie agreed, and they slowly walked up the terrace steps and into the back of the house. She sent a footman to hail a hack and they continued through the corridor toward the entryway. Resting on a table near the front door was a huge arrangement of deep crimson, nearly black, roses.
“Has someone died?” Vallie asked.
“Not that I know of.”
Farley materialized from the shadows. “Those were just delivered for you, madam. There is a card there on the table.”
“That arrangement is ominous, to say the least,” Vallie said.