There was perhaps something to be said for making education more widely available to women. Most of his fellow peers would disagree, although Gabriel Smith was a forward thinker in that regard.
He got to his feet when Mrs. Waterman beckoned Frederick to assist with her chair. “I think I’ll retire,” she said, bestowing a kiss on Susan’s cheek. “This house is wearing me out.”
Griff took her hand when she offered it and bussed a kiss. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, Mrs. Waterman. Clifton Heights is fortunate you came to stay.”
She nodded modestly and bade them both goodnight.
Griff helped Susan rise from her chair. “Still up for the noble game of billiards?” he asked, anticipating showing off his prowess by teaching her something she didn’t know.
“Indeed,” she replied with entirely too much enthusiasm for his liking.
Games
“We play withthree balls and, as you see, there are six pockets,” Griff explained. “These flat walls are to keep the balls from falling off,’ he added, running his hand over a side rail of the new billiards table.
Feigning amazement, Susan widened her eyes.
“They are called ‘banks’,” he continued, peeling off his frock coat. The waistcoat hugged his body like a glove, the black silk a stark contrast with the brilliant white of his shirtsleeves. “I suppose like the banks of a river.”
Susan couldn’t see the correlation but held her tongue, too fixated on his broad back and tapered hips to consider it as he examined a number of cues in the wall rack before choosing one and handing it to her.
“The balls can bounce off the rails, so you can deliberately aim at them. That’s called a ‘bank shot’.”
“Perhaps you could demonstrate,” she replied, sensing he was itching to show off.
She took a step back when he leaned over the table and lined his cue up to strike a ball. The new position gave her an excellent view of his backside, rendered all the more appealing by the tight breeches. She found herself more interested in his physical endowments than in the result of his shot which rebounded off four banks before knocking another ball into one of the pockets. “I see,” she said. “Clever.”
“You can put spin on the ball, like so.”
She knew very well how to make a ball behave with the use of spin, so, this time, she concentrated on his long legs. She suppressed the compulsion to giggle at the smug look on his face when he turned to grin at her after sinking another ball. She hadn’t giggled since—well, ever. Lady Susan Crompton wasn’t a frivolous woman who giggled.
“Englishmen visiting the United States showed Americans how the use of spin can make the billiard ball behave differently depending on what type and amount of spin you apply,” he said. “That explains why it is called ‘English’ in America but we call it ‘side’.”
Blushing slightly as if he realized he’d been lecturing, he smoothed a hand over the green baize. “In London, I heard of experiments to replace the wooden tops with slate, but those tables are impossible to find. This surface is flat now because it’s new but, eventually, the wood will warp like the old one. Lancashire’s damp climate almost guarantees it.”
“Slate sounds like a good idea,” she replied. “And Wales has a lot of slate quarries. Perhaps there’s money to be made.”
Griff rubbed his knuckles along the evening stubble shadowing the chiseled lines of his chin. “It would make the table much heavier, of course, but you could be right.”
Shoving aside the urge to touch her fingertips to the prickly beginnings of his beard, she struggled to organize her scattered thoughts. “And people rarely move their billiards tables once they are installed in a room specially designed for the game, like this one.”
“The legs would have to be reinforced,” he remarked, obviously warming to the idea. “I should look into slate quarries. I confess to not knowing much about them.”
Susan couldn’t resist. “The Chetham Library is the place I usually go when I’m researching new opportunities.”
A vision of marching into the male dominated Chetham Library on Griff’s arm filled her head. The old codgers would faint!
She gripped the cue when his smile fled. “They allow women in the Chetham Library?” he asked, incredulity evident in his wide eyes.
Enough was enough. Suddenly tired of the charade, she leaned over the table, lined up her shot and sank the third ball.
His response wasn’t what she expected. Most men would be irritated she had led them on. Griff laughed heartily. “You’ve played before, I take it. Either that, or you’re an exceptionally fast learner.”
His rich laughter and the hint of seduction in his voice sent chills racing up her spine. Her most private place suddenly felt embarrassingly damp, the gown too tight across her breasts. “I like to learn new things,” she cooed, in a sultry voice she didn’t recognize.
“A wager then?” he suggested.
Astonishment warred with a desire to best him. For a man to risk losing to a woman in any endeavor was unheard of. However, her beleaguered mind was busy recalling something Rebecca had once told her. She’d dismissed the rumor that rakes played a game with their mistresses known as strip billiards. It was too shocking to contemplate.