Chapter Fifteen #2
“That’ll require an entirely different technique, given the angle.”
She turned to face the owner of the voice. “Colonel Reid, are you following me?”
“Can you not call me Stephen?” he said with a lopsided grin.
“Can you not answer a question with another question?”
He let out a laugh, then gestured to the target. “You’ll have to aim higher than you’d expect.”
“How much higher?”
“Come, come, Lady Portia, you wouldn’t expect any favors from your rival, would you?” He glanced over his shoulder. “You’d best get on with it. I saw Lady Trelawney coming this way.”
She gestured to the target. “Then be my guest.”
“A gentleman always follows the rule of ladies first.”
“You know enough of me by now to appreciate that I’m not fond of the rules that gentlemen adopt. Why should you treat me differently because of my sex?”
“Gallantry, of course.”
“Which is the man’s excuse for restricting a woman’s freedom.”
Understanding flickered in his eyes, and he nodded, then spoke more softly. “Is your brother overly strict with you?” He gestured in the direction of the main lawn. “Far be it for me to speak out of turn, but I noticed today—”
“You’re very kind, colonel.”
“Stephen, please,” he said, moving closer, until she could almost feel the warmth of his body on her skin.
“Stephen,” she said, suppressing the little pulse of longing as her tongue curled around his name. “My brother is a little…” She made a random gesture, trying to find the words.
“Overprotective?”
“He has a good heart.”
He tilted his head to one side and raised his eyebrows.
“Perhaps not one that is entirely visible to the rest of the world,” she continued, “but in his own way, he loves me. He’s not the type to tell me openly, of course, for in his eyes that would show weakness.
I may not always approve of his methods, but I believe his desire to maintain the unfathomable rules of Society comes from a wish that I come to no harm. ”
“Then in that, if in little else, I find myself in agreement with him.”
His eyes darkened and he leaned closer. She had only to tilt her face upward, offer her lips for a kiss…
Laughter filtered through the air, followed by animated voices, and she jerked back.
“That’s Lady Trelawney,” she said. “With Lavinia, by the sound of it. It seems they’ve teamed up and become a pair.”
“Then perhaps you and I should become a pair.”
The voices drew near, and Portia tempered the flare of desire at his words, spoken with a low growl.
“If we’re of one team, then I suggest we deal with this target as quickly as possible then find the rest,” she said, “and you must go first.”
“Very well.” He smiled, then nocked his arrow, drew back the bow, aimed upward, and let it fly. The arrow hit the inner ring, just shy of the center.
“Not too incompetent,” she said, nocking her own arrow. “How many targets have you found so far?” She tilted her body upward until the target came into view.
“Nine, including this one,” he said as she let her arrow fly. The arrow sailed upward in an arc, then landed in the center of the target.
A footman stepped out from behind a tree. “Excellent shot, colonel, and Lady Portia. That’s two points for you, colonel, and three for the lady.”
“How much time is there left?” Portia asked.
“A few minutes, if that,” Stephen said, pulling out his pocket watch. “Good man, can you tell us where the last target is?”
“How would he know which target you mean?” Portia said. “They’re dotted all over the place.”
“I’ve not been toward the lake yet, so perhaps it’s there. Am I right, good man?”
The footman opened his mouth to reply.
“Say nothing that will give him an advantage, I beg you,” Portia said. “The colonel is a paragon of honesty, and I would hate for you to be the object of his derision.”
Stephen frowned, then let out a sigh. “Very well. I’m going toward the lake.”
“Keep to the path, mind,” the footman said. Stephen nodded, then offered his arm unsmilingly, and Portia took it.
After they had followed the path far enough for the footman, with luck, to be out of earshot, Portia spoke.
“Forgive me…Stephen, I did not mean to criticize you, and certainly not in front of Eleanor’s footman. I meant no offense.”
“I cannot say I took no offense.”
Her heart sank.
Heavens—did she care so much for his opinion of her? “Then I must apol—”
“The reason I cannot admit to not having taken offense is because such a statement would imply, as our hostess says, that I care nothing for your opinion.”
He turned toward her, a gleam of mischief in his eyes, and her heart lifted a little.
“You understood what Eleanor said earlier?”
“The duchess has a rather odd turn of phrase, but rather than fill her sentences with bland niceties that most ladies are fond of, she speaks the absolute truth—even if that truth is not deemed acceptable.”
“Eleanor speaks literally, and takes what’s said to her in return literally also. She has no time for social niceties. She’s the most honest soul I know.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, smiling. “I’ll wager there’s another lady here today who displays a similar penchant for honesty. You’re not afraid to speak up, even if your brother disapproves—or even if I disapprove. I take it you find my desire for honesty officious?”
“A little. Is it not better to aspire to goodness?”
“Ah, but I consider honesty and goodness to walk hand in hand.”
“But is there not merit in considering the principle—the spirit, if you will—of goodness? Honesty and goodness are not mutually exclusive, but where the two come into conflict, then I can see justification for concealing the truth, even molding it a little, while not actively telling a falsehood.”
“But do you not understand that even the slightest deception opens the door to falsehood, which may never be closed again? Consider the wounded man who takes a little laudanum, and then a little more because he enjoys the feeling it elicits—and then, after indulging in it over a long period, he finds himself unable to live without it.”
She let out a huff. “I know enough about laudanum addiction, colonel, to understand the risks of overdependence.”
“Perhaps enough about what Dr. McIver has told you, but I doubt you’ve seen the effects for yourself.”
“What do you think I do when I visit the hospital? Rearrange the flowers?”
At that moment, they entered a clearing and a target came into view, nestled among a holly bush, its concentric rings shining in the sunlight.
“Ah, Eleanor has made the final target easy for her guests,” Portia said. “I had wondered if she’d have the last one concealed in the lake.”
She reached for her final arrow, and he caught her hand, his long, lean fingers curled about her wrist. Her skin tightened at the sensation of the callouses on his fingers, so unlike the smooth skin of men such as her brother, who’d never known a day’s toil.
She met his gaze, and her stomach fluttered at the intensity of in his eyes—the faint undertones of pain that still lingered and, no doubt, the guilt that plagued him for having survived the war while his comrades fell about him.
He gestured to the target. “Do you wish to go first?”
She shook her head. “You can.”
He took his final arrow, drew back the bow, and let it fly. The arrow sailed in a perfect arc, landing in the center.
“Excellent shot,” Portia said, and he flinched. She drew out her final arrow.
“Forgive me for my words earlier,” he said.
“I’m not trying to impugn your skills or knowledge.
I’m only trying to explain the danger of treading the wrong path, even though one might set upon that path with good intentions.
If a man attempts to justify his dishonesty, then he clearly wishes to move further along that path. ”
“Not necessarily,” she said, nocking the arrow.
“I disagree. I don’t believe anyone to be truly evil, but men do evil things.
And the only way to prevent evil is to consider what caused the seed of evil to grow in the man.
Even the most reprehensible of men will have, at some point, made a decision that they believed to be justified that set them on the path. Some may even be redeemable.”
“So you believe men such as Sir Heath Moss had the capacity for goodness at some point and can be redeemed?”
“Yes, even men such as him. Of course, some men are beyond redemption, whatever Lord Staines may say.”
“Lord Staines is a vicar—or at least he was before he inherited the title. It is a vicar’s duty to believe every lost soul is capable of redemption.”
“I’m sure most are, but some men are beyond it.”
“Such as?”
“That Farthing fellow.”
Her gut twisted with apprehension at the loathing in his tone, and she gritted her teeth to stem the tremors in her body.
“He’s not killed anyone,” she said.
He snapped his head around and stared at her, his eyes darkening.
“At least…that’s what I’ve heard. My brother speaks of him.”
“He shouldn’t discuss such matters with you, Lady Portia.”
“Why not? Is it not deception to conceal information?”
“But why should you want to know about such a despicable creature?”
“Perhaps he’s just earning a living,” she said. “He might use the money he earns for good, to support a family or to help others.”
“By risking lives?”
“He might be proficient enough to leave his opponent injured just enough to satisfy everyone’s honor, but not so much as to cause permanent damage,” she said. “You might argue that he’s saving lives, not putting them at risk.”
“And you think that justifies taking up a weapon and shooting at an innocent man?” he said, his voice rising.
“Not only is dueling illegal, it’s morally reprehensible.
Men who take part in duels do so to satisfy their inflated opinions of themselves, and nothing more.
This Farthing fellow is profiteering off that and placing their lives at risk. ”
“But—”
“No, Lady Portia,” he said, his eyes bright with emotion. “He does not deserve our understanding. He deserves our censure, and…”
He hesitated, and the emotion in his eyes turned to hatred.
“He deserves to be hanged.”
“Surely such a punishment should be reserved for the very worst crimes imaginable.”
“I cannot imagine anything worse than what the Farthing does,” he said, his voice almost a snarl. “I would gladly place the noose around his neck myself and see his body dance in agony while he draws his last breath!”
The breath left Portia’s body as nausea swelled inside her stomach and she let her arrow fly. It sailed over the top of the target. Her eyes misted with moisture and she blinked. As her vision cleared, Stephen’s concerned face swam into view.
“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to upset you. Perhaps the footman in attendance will permit you to take the shot again.” He tilted his head upward. “Hello there!”
A footman emerged from behind a tree. “Yes, sir?”
“Would you be so kind as to let Lady Portia—”
“There’s no need,” she said. “The damage has been done.”
At that moment, a shot rang out in the distance. Stephen winced and glanced about, fear glazing his eyes.
“No need for alarm, sir,” the footman said. “That’s the signal for the end of the game.” He pulled a notebook out of his pocket and wrote in it, before slipping it back in his pocket. “Shall I escort you back to the lawn for tea? There’s strawberries and cream.”
“No need,” Portia said. “I know the way.” She hooked her bow over her shoulder and set off on the path, not bothering to see if Stephen followed.
Before she reached the edge of the woods, she caught sight of Alice and Lavinia. They turned as she approached.
“Portia, darling!” Lavinia said. “Did you find all ten targets? We only found nine.”
“Did you see the one hidden among the holly near the lake?”
Alice nodded. “Oh yes, I almost hit the center of that one. And we found the ones hidden in the rhododendrons.”
“What about the one up a tree?”
“Up a tree?” Lavinia raised her eyebrows. “Are you jesting?”
“No, it was up that large oak tree in the center of the woods.”
“Oh, we walked right past that,” Alice said. “I’d have thought you’d have spotted it, Lavinia, given your penchant for climbing.” She let out a giggle. “Though, of course, you prefer to climb into people’s bedrooms and steal their treasures.”
“Only when they deserve to be stolen,” Lavinia said. “There’s nothing wrong with a little mischief if it’s in a good cause, don’t you think, Lady Portia?”
Portia glanced over her shoulder in the direction from which she’d come. “Yes,” she said. “I certainly do.”
“Was Colonel Reid not with you?” Alice asked. “Lavinia and I paired up. We would have asked you to join us, but we thought you’d prefer to make a pair with the colonel.”
“No,” Portia said quietly, tempering the pinch of sorrow in her heart. “The colonel and I are not a pair.”
Nor are we ever likely to be.