Before she could stammer out some response, he removed his hat and swooped it towards the retreating King.

‘After you, my lady.’

CHAPTER 13

CATHERINE ALLOWED HER favourite hedgehog to sit on her shoulder, so long as it stayed calm and agreed not to poke her neck with its quills. Beside her, a flamingo stood with one stick-leg tucked up into its feathers. It had horrible shrimp breath and Cath kept trying to sidestep slowly away.

The King, Margaret Mearle and Jack were all taking their turns simultaneously, making for a crowded court. Jest’s hedgehog had rolled off grounds some time ago and Cath had lost sight of him over one of the rolling hills. Margaret’s flamingo had the bone structure of a noodle and she wouldn’t stop screaming and shaking the limp thing, so her progress had so far been painfully slow. Jack seemed only interested in trying to croquet everyone else’s hedgehogs off course.

The King had started out the game well enough – his hedgehog was indeed fond of him – but his flamingo had since turned unpredictable. Catherine watched as he swung at his hedgehog for the third time in a row, and again his flamingo curled up its long neck at the last moment and missed the hedgehog entirely. The King let out an annoyed huff and shook his flamingo by its scrawny legs. ‘We practised this, you foul fowl! You can’t have stage fright now.’

‘His poor Majesty,’ Catherine mused to herself.

The flamingo beside her rolled its beak a couple of times, and drawled, ‘Ah like yer pink dress.’

Cath shot it a withering smile and tugged at her cotton eyelet dress, the same pale pink as the bird’s feathers.

Flamingos were such stupid creatures.

Finally, on the fourth swing, the King smacked his hedgehog on the rump and it went flying over the croquet court, scampering just by the foot of the Six of Clubs without rolling beneath his arched back.

Balling his fists, the King stomped unhappily on the grass. ‘Useless thing!’

Cath, still on the sidelines, thought this boded well for her strategy. One of the guards had fallen asleep while in a backbend, and she suspected he would make for an easy target if she got to him before he collapsed.

She turned her head and winked at her hedgehog. ‘Shall we?’

‘Conspiring with the game pieces, I see,’ Jest said, startling her. She turned to see him leaning against a garden statue with his own flamingo draped over one shoulder. ‘I’m not sure that’s allowed, Lady Pinkerton.’

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.