Simply Magic by Mary Balogh Page A

support of most of the other ladies, cricket was really a man’s game. And hide-and-seek was not practical, as the trees did not grow thickly on this side of the lake and there were very few other hiding places. All of the other suggestions were rejected too for one reason or another.
    It seemed they were to proceed gameless to tea after all—until Miss Osbourne spoke up.
    â€œHow about boat races?” she suggested.
    There was a swell of excited approval—and then the inevitable dissenting voice.
    â€œBut there are too few gentlemen to row all of us,” Miss Jane Calvert pointed out. “Some of us would have to stand and watch.”
    The other ladies looked at her in dismay, all of them, it seemed, with mental visions of being among the excluded.
    â€œBut who is to say,” Miss Osbourne asked, “that the men have to have all the fun? I was thinking of races in which
all
of us would row and none of us would be passengers.”
    â€œOh, I say,” Moss said, and laughed.
    â€œThat is the best idea I have heard yet, Susanna,” the countess said.
    Peter folded his arms and pursed his lips.
    â€œBut I have never rowed a boat,” Miss Raycroft protested.
    â€œNeither have I,” Miss Krebbs wailed. “I could not possibly…”
    â€œWe must think of something else, then,” Miss Mary Calvert said.
    But Miss Osbourne raised her voice again, more firmly than before.
    â€œWhat?” She looked about at the circle of those who had gathered to choose a game, and it was immediately apparent to Peter’s amused eye that she had forgotten herself and had slipped into an accustomed role of teacher rallying unenthusiastic pupils. “We are going to miss the chance of taking the oars ourselves and demonstrating that we are not just decorative ornaments who must always be passengers? We are not going to strive to beat the men?”
    â€œOh, I say,” Moss said again, while Peter grinned and caught an identical expression on Edgecombe’s face.
    â€œ
Beat
the
men
?” Miss Krebbs half shrieked again. She looked as if she were close to swooning.
    A few of the other young ladies were giggling, but they looked definitely interested.
    â€œThere are only four boats,” Miss Osbourne pointed out. “We will have to have elimination heats—across the lake to the pavilion and back again ought to be far enough. The ladies will compete against one another and the men against one another. At the end there will be a race between the winning man and the winning woman.
Then
we will see what sort of competition the lady will offer the gentleman.”
    She was flushed and bright-eyed and full of energy and enthusiasm—a born leader, Peter guessed, gazing at her, intrigued and not a little dazzled. And she was going to get her way too, by Jove. Despite the misgivings with which almost all the young ladies had greeted the initial suggestion—especially when they had known that they were not to be mere passengers in the boats—they were now fairly bouncing with eagerness to get the races under way.
    â€œThis is going to be the best picnic ever,” Miss Mary Calvert declared with youthful hyperbole as she flashed Peter a bright smile.
    Had Miss Osbourne told him she was the games teacher at school? He seemed to recall her saying something to that effect though he had not taken much notice at the time. A
games
teacher?
Was
there such a thing as a games teacher at a girls’ school?
    For the next hour there was far more bouncing up and down and cheering and squealing and laughing—and some good-natured derision—on the bank than there was great expertise shown in the water. A few of the races were close—Miss Calvert narrowly beat the countess, though Miss Moss and Miss Mary Calvert were left far behind, an outcome brought about by the twin facts that each of them moved in circles as much as they moved in a straight line and that