A Diamond in the Rough by Andrea Pickens

Author:Andrea Pickens
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

"No, no, my lord. You mustn’t set that foot as if it were stuck in a bowl of porridge.” Philp took up a stance and demonstrated what he meant. “Still, your swing is looking greatly improved.” He placed another ball upon the ground. “Now, seeing as we are ready to make the turn, we will play the inward nine as if it were a real match. Your honors, sir.”

Marquand stepped up and knocked a credible drive considerably past where Derry was standing to keep an eye on where the shot fell.

“A bit over one hundred sixty yards,” remarked Philp with gruff approval as they caught up to her. “Excellent, sir, excellent. If your caddie has helped you make the same improvements in your short game, I, for one, should not care to bet against you.”

“I believe Master Derry has done his best to whip me into shape,” replied the Viscount dryly.

Philp gave a short chuckle. “What say you, Derry. Are you satisfied with your man’s progress?”

“Aye, Mr. Philp,” she muttered, ducking her head even lower to hide her reaction to the master’s comment. “He has a chance.” Why was she blushing like a schoolgirl at his unintended reference to the Viscount as ‘her man’? she asked herself as she shifted the clubs on her shoulder. He was nothing of the sort!

Oh, it was true that she no longer held him in such low regard as before. The Viscount had shown himself to be quite different from the picture she had created in her mind of a privileged English lord—except that he was as sinfully handsome as she had imagined that sort of gentleman would be. That he was intelligent, compassionate, and not afraid of hard work to achieve his goals were qualities that had forced her to reevaluate her initial dislike. And of course, his interest in gardens alone would have been able to sway even the most hardened of prejudices against him. After all, any man who knew the difference between hydrangea macrophylla and hydrangea aspera couldn’t be all bad!

“An iron or the baffing spoon?”

Derrien’s head jerked around at Marquand’s question. She took her time in eyeing the distance and the slight swell of hill in order to force her attention back to the game. “The spoon,” she announced and handed him the club.

“Hmmm. I would have chosen the iron,” he murmured, but took it without dissent.

“And then you would have risked not clearing that patch of tall grass at the crest. Once caught up in that tangle, you could lose two strokes, and maybe more. Better to be long than short.”

Marquand studied the terrain for a moment before nodding in agreement. “Ah. I see what you mean.” Philp watched the brief interchange and chewed thoughtfully on the stem of his pipe. The Viscount set up, and after Derrien had murmured a reminder to keep his wrists firm but not stiff, his next shot rolled within several yards of the flag. Taking the preferred putter, he stepped to the ball and knocked it in the hole for his par.

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