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In hindsight, agreeing to Edmund and Miles's request had been a mistake.
The boys had been bugging them to be allowed a round of Pall Mall for ages since they had been old enough to understand the basics of the games the adults played religiously every Summer. Anthony had been gracious enough to take some time and teach the basics of the game, how to use a mallet and such. Kate's husband had argued that it would be best, safety-wise if they were not blindly swinging the heavy mallet around aimlessly once they were old enough to participate, which was fairly logical, all things considered.
But in the year following Charlotte's birth, the pestering had reached bigger and bigger proportions and, after much begging and several promises to be on their best behaviour so they were allowed to play, Kate and Anthony finally relented. They could keep their temper in check in order to play a friendly match with their sons.
Or at least they had imagined so.
"May I play with the Mallet of Death?" Edmund inquired, the eight-year-old's hand reaching out for the black bat sitting amongst the others on the sunny spring afternoon.
" No! "
" No ." Anthony and Kate's loud cry echoed across the lawn, making their eldest son jump away from the basket in surprise, eyeing his parents with wide eyes.
"Why not?"
"I would like to play with the Mallet of Death as well." Miles chimed in, his hands fit inside of his pockets like a miniature version of Anthony.
"Because..." Kate wracked her brain for an explanation for the outburst. She had to bite back the first answer that came to her mind, since she was quite sure answering it with a 'It is mine' , would not only be rather petty of her, but it certainly would prompt a response from her husband. One that she certainly would not care for and that would lead down into a whole path of petty bickering that they had promised to steer clear from, for the sake of their sons.
"The Mallet of Death will not be part of the game today," Anthony spoke up before she could think of anything. "It can only be used at the actual game. No one will have it today."
"That's right." Kate nodded, tampering down her disappointment at the lack of her favourite mallet and the struggle between her and her husband to use it. She knew it would be for the best. They had agreed to keep things as well-mannered and tame as possible for their children's first real game and once the bickering started, it was difficult to stop. It was one thing to do their usual routine in front of their siblings, who were all adults and very much used to their level of competitivity, but a very different one to do it in front of the children. What sort of example would they be giving to their sons if they played their regular push-and-pull, insanely competitive game? No, it would just not do. They had to behave. They would behave. "It is not available."
"Alright." Edmund sighed in resignation, eyeing the other options. "I'll pick first!"
" Why ?" Miles' forehead wrinkled in an adorable frown as he stared at his brother.
"I'm the eldest son."
"And I am the youngest." Miles crossed his arms in front of him with a firm pout. "It does not signify."
Kate had to bite hard on her lip to keep from giggling as she turned to her husband with a raised eyebrow as if to say ‘I wonder where he learned that.’.
"Of course it does." Edmund scoffed. "I am older than you."
"Papa and Amma are older than you."
"Well, it was my idea to ask for us to be allowed to play."
"So?" Miles did not seem taken by his brother's excuse. "I was the one who convinced Amma."
"And I convinced Papa." The older boy huffed. "And since it is Papa's game, I should pick first."
"Wait," Kate turned to stare at the two arguing boys with a frown. "Papa's game?"
" Kate ..." Anthony rubbed his face with a groan.
"Why would you think it is Papa's game?"
"Because it is a Bridgerton game," Edmund explained as if it was obvious.
"Ah, forgive me." Kate scoffed with a roll of her eyes. "I was under the impression I have been Lady Bridgerton for the past decade."
"You have." her son nodded patiently. "But you were not born a Bridgerton like we were."
"I assure you, Edmund, I have been a Bridgerton for longer than you have existed. The sole reason you were born a Bridgerton is because I became one. I was instrumental for you to be a Bridgerton." Kate turned to her husband with a a roll of her eyes as if to say ' Can you believe this? ' but Anthony was too busy rubbing his eyes to look back at her.
"I still do not see why you should choose first." Miles returned to his point, moving his eyes from his mother’s rather enraged discourse after a moment to raise an eyebrow at his big brother.
"Because I..."
"Since you two cannot seem to be able to reach a compromise, we shall pick first," Anthony spoke up suddenly before the boys could rekindle the argument.
"But Papa..."
"He's not being..."
Anthony ignored the pleas as he plucked the blue mallet from the basket before turning to his wife. "Which one, Lady Bridgerton?"
Kate moved forward, inspecting her options before reaching out for the orange mallet, but before her hand could even come in contact with the wood, Edmund let out a little sigh of protest. "What is it, Ned?"
"You'll pick the orange one?"
"Is there a problem with that?" Kate turned to the eight-year-old with her hands on her hips. "Are only those born a Bridgerton allowed to pick it?"
Anthony elbowed her.
"I wanted to play with the orange." Kate sighed at her little boy's dejected face before taking the orange mallet from the basket and handing it to the 8-year-old before turning to her second son with her hands on her hips. "Can I use the purple one or do you want that?"
"I actually wanted the green." Miles smiled sheepishly, grinning when his mother handed him the mallet.
"Can I go first?"
"No." Anthony narrowed his eyes at his sons. "It is oldest to youngest."
"But then you'll always go first." Edmund retorted. "Is that fair?"
"Did you not just say it was my game? Therefore, I get to make the rules." Kate let out a loud sound to make sure he was aware she did not like or particularly agree with his statement, which Anthony already knew, so he chose to ignore it. “Shall we begin? I would like to be done before it’s suppertime, please.”
Playing Pall Mall wasn't even half as fun when she could not gloat shamelessly at her good shots or be teased by Anthony for her bad ones. She might complain endlessly about it, but the interactions between her and her husband were one of her favourite parts of the game.
Still, if Kate started to tease Anthony, not only would it give her sons a bad example, but it might also unintentionally upset them, since both of them were also behind her. And so she stood there, spending most of her energy to keep the gleeful comments about her position ahead and the barbs directed at her husband, who stood along with the boys one wicket behind, having to content herself with the self-satisfied smirk curling her lips.
Had there been any cheating on her part to put herself ahead while leaving Anthony behind? Perhaps, but she could certainly not be blamed for it. It was a known fact that there was very little the Bridgertons wouldn't do in order to win any game, especially the traditional family rounds of Pall Mall and Kate was Viscountess Bridgerton. It was part of her duties to the title she had acquired through marriage to honour and uphold the family name in all things, and that included being insanely competitive and a terrible cheat as well as a lousy loser when it came to competitions of any sort.
Her husband, who was the embodiment of all things she had just described, was fuming. Anthony looked delectable in the warm afternoon sun, his sleeves rolled to his elbow, leaving the strong forearms he had crossed in front of his chest in consternation, bare for her admiring eyes. His eyebrows had furrowed in the middle of his forehead, a big, annoyed pout placed firmly on his lips. There was a fire burning behind his brown eyes every time he looked at her that promised there would be hell to pay for her scheming after the game, when they retreated to their chambers, once the boys were delivered to their nanny for a good scrub and a change of clothes.
The mere thought of it made her knees weak with anticipation.
But that would be only after she won the game. Which, Kate considered, studying the remaining two wickets she needed to get her ball through, if everything continued as it was, would not take much longer. Victory was so close she could all but taste it, and it was wonderful!
"You look glum, husband." Kate approached Anthony with a sly grin as Miles considered his next move, which only served to make him growl, staring menacingly at her in a way that made her insides melt.
"Do not think I do not see what you are doing there, wife." He muttered darkly.
"I surely hope you do!" She rubbed her chin, feeling the glee at the interaction. "Then you shall see when I only have one wicket left after I take my next turn."
"I would not be so certain of that, my Lady." Kate frowned, turning to stare at her husband with a suspicious glare.
"Your ball is not positioned in a way which would allow you to sabotage my next shot, my Lord."
"No, mine isn't."
Anthony motioned with his chin towards where the boys stood at the same time a loud thud announced Miles had taken his shot which meant Kate had a perfectly clear view of the path her youngest son's green ball followed before hitting hers.
The two balls had not moved much, Milo had not put enough strength to send her ball far. Instead, his green round thing had connected with her purple one, sending them both slightly to the left, leaving them touching on the grass, her son's ball in front of hers. From the new position, it was virtually impossible that Kate would be able to go through the next wicket on her next turn. The angle was off and if, by some miracle or careful calculation, she managed to get it through the little arch, she would have to apply much more force towards it, and probably send Miles' ball along with hers, leaving the six-year-old in a slight advantage.
The cunning, treacherous little... Ugh!
"I do not think you'll be going through the next wicket on your next turn now." Anthony's tone was snotty and self-satisfied and Kate never wanted to turn and sink her mallet against her husband's shin so much in her entire life. And Miles! Her own child, the blood of her blood! The sweet little boy she had carried and nurtured for nine long months, birthed for 10 long hours and loved and cherished for the past six years! The amount of betrayal she had to suffer was astonishing!
It was rather shameful of her to be mad at her son for doing well in a game, she knew. Not motherly at all. Most likely it had been beginner's luck and nothing more, after all, Miles was six and playing Pall Mall for the first time.
And the worst part was, she could not even remain mad at him, not when he turned to her with his big chestnut eyes and a cautious smile on his lips and asked "Did I do that right, Amma?"
"Yes, beta." What was she supposed to say? He was too sweet, his happy little claps of excitement at the excellent move. Unfortunately, the fact that she could not stay angry at her child did not mean her anger and annoyance dissipated in a blink. It remained swirling inside growing with every moment she considered what her new game strategy would be, with nowhere to go, nothing to be directed at. "Well done."
"Capital move, son," Anthony commented cheerfully, rubbing the little boy's hair as he moved towards the blue ball.
Yes, Anthony! She certainly could be irritated at Anthony , who was obviously having a blast with her demise. She did not care the positions had been inverted just about ten seconds before and she was the one enjoying her husband's dark scowl and irritable mood with absolutely no guilt about it.
"If I am not winning this," She hissed as she stood by him, watching him consider his own shot. " You shan't be either."
Anthony looked up from his ball, the mallet in place for the shot, offering her a crooked, challenging grin. "Do your worst, Wife."
Oh, she would. She most certainly would.
The strategic part of the game had been left behind, winning the game all but forgotten to the detriment of making sure the other did not win. Miles had easily passed the wicket on his next move, both of his parents clapping and offering supportive smiles and words of encouragement at the clever moves, Ned following not far behind, puffing his chest proudly every time he was complimented. All the while, Kate and Anthony hissed at each other and plotted the best way to send the other's ball into a pit of mud, or even better, to the bottom of the lake.
It was the path their Pall Mall games often ended up following and it made the whole thing infinitely more interesting. It was also what they had planned to avoid when they agreed to play a friendly match against the boys. It was not the kind of example they wished to set for their children, that's not how they wished the boys to imagine healthy playing should be like. But it was quite difficult to stop once they started down that rabbit hole of petty bickering and lunatic competition. Still, they attempted to tone it down to avoid upsetting the boys.
If they had been a bit less busy with quietly sabotaging each other they would have realised that upsetting the boys would certainly not be an issue and that setting an example to them would be rather useless. They should have expected it, really. After all, it was their blood that flowed through the children and an apple did not fall far from the tree and all that.
Kate was carefully calculating if she had enough of an angle to send her husband's ball rolling down the hill when loud voices drew their attention.
"You are moving my ball with your foot." Miles hissed as his brother blinked at him with the most fake innocent grin Kate had ever witnessed.
"I have no idea what you are talking about?"
"Do you think I'm dumb ? I've seen you!"
"You cannot prove it."
"I cannot...?!" Miles ramped. "My ball was over here and you moved it with your foot when you passed!"
"Milo, you cannot make up excuses for being behind," Edmund muttered, smirking shamelessly. "People do not care for a sore loser."
It had been the wrong thing to say and it was obvious by the way Miles' eyes narrowed, his face turning red with his forehead wrinkled, but Edmund was too busy grinning triumphantly to notice or he simply did not imagine his brother would actually do anything about it. It was a mistake because Miles began marching towards the orange and green balls with angry, decided little steps.
"Hey, it is still Amma's turn, not yours!" The eldest boy cried out but his younger brother ignored him and before Edmund had the time to repeat himself or even to reach his brother's side, Miles swung his mallet around in a firm arch, hitting the butt of it squarely to the orange ball with more force than Kate had ever expected a sweet six-year-old to have. Kate and Anthony both stood watching wide-eyed as the ball flew away, rolling down the same hill she had considered sending her husband's ball down just half a minute before while Edmund cried out "That was my ball!"
"Well, you moved mine," Miles replied drily. "So I moved yours."
"That's ridiculous !" Edmund threw his arms in the air in exasperation. "I only moved yours a little bit!"
"And I only moved yours once ," Miles replied, offering his older brother a bright victorious grin that might or might not be too similar to his mother's. "I believe the rules say you should stick to your ball, Ned."
"That's not fair!" Edmund stomped angrily. "You stick with it, you sent it there!"
"But I'm playing with the green one."
"Well, that's easily remedied then!" The eldest boy began marching towards his brother's green ball with his own mallet held tightly on his fist but before he could actually take a swing at it, Anthony cleared his throat, wrapping a firm hand around the boy's wrist to stop the arch of his arm.
"I think it's best if we call the game off now." Her husband spoke slowly, removing the orange mallet from Edmund's hand while Kate reached out for the green one from Miles before they actually tried to take a swing at each other with them. "I believe it's time for tea."
Before there could be any whining or complaining, Kate lightheartedly added "Cook told me this morning she'd make some raspberry pie for tea today. She was sure we'd all be starving after the game."
Mollified by the promise of sweets, the boys easily relinquished their mallets and turned to march back to the house.
"If we're ending the match now, it means that I have won, you know?" They heard Miles tell his brother, who huffed.
"It absolutely does not."
"My ball was the one most ahead."
"Only because you sent mine flying away!"
"Still, it was not there by the end, was it?"
Kate and Anthony watched as they walked away, their raised voices mingling with the blowing wind as they grew each time more distant.
"That went well," Anthony commented with a smirk, his eyes still stuck in the arguing boys' small figures. Kate threw her head back with a loud laugh she gave up on trying to contain. "I do not know how we imagined it could be any different."
"They are our children alright." She nodded, whipping her eyes with the back of her hand as she took a large breath. "We should have seen it coming."
"On the bright side." He turned to her, his eyes once again glimmering with that warm fire. "It means we shan't have to hold back the next time we play."
"I look forward to it. I cannot wait to beat you in your game, My Lord." She turned to follow the boys, leaving him to reply to his back.
"You are most welcome to try, My Lady." His rough voice sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine. "Do your worst."
"I absolutely will, Husband."
"I hardly can wait, Wife."