Chapter Thirty-Six
Matthew’s blood ran cold. He looked at Jasmine. Stiff-backed, teeth bared, with her hands clenched in her lap. Poised to act, but silent. Cassandra and Caroline both had their hands over their mouths. Seth growled next to him.
“I can’t do it.” He shook his head and stepped back. “I won’t.”
“You will, Lord Lincolnshire,” Duke Kendall argued. “You agreed to do as I ask, so do it. Shoot an apple off her head.” He lowered his voice. “Or I will. Even a blind man could do it.”
Vivian stood, eyes aflame. “We were invited to a ball to watch a man shoot his wife?” She shot her glare at Duke Kendall. “Stop this at once, Your Grace. It’s macabre.”
Murmurs of agreement rose through the crowd. A few more sensible guests stood with her, shuffling out of the aisles to leave.
“This is my birthday, and you will all sit down.” Duke Kendall roared. “I will not tolerate disrespect!”
Nobles shared nervous looks, but all returned to their seats. The fear on their faces mirrored one another, but none stood to oppose Duke Kendall.
“This is too far. I will not watch this.” Vivian shook with a fury Matthew wished she would unleash—but instead, she stormed into the mansion.
His face reddening, Duke Kendall turned to Matthew and snapped, “I gave you an order. Now do it!”
Matthew glanced between Duke Kendall and Jasmine. He would rather die than harm her. He stared down at the pistol in his hands. If he was going to hell, he would drag the other man down with him.
Duke Kendall might have all of the control at the tip of his tongue…
But Matthew had the gun.
He spoke gently. “The truth of the matter is, yes, I am confident I could shoot an apple off my wife’s head.” He walked to Jasmine and lifted her chin with his fingertip, begging her with his eyes to trust him. “I’m so confident, I’m willing to stake my own life.”
“Your life?” Duke Kendall repeated with a laugh. “Am I to assume you’ll shoot yourself?”
“I’ll happily shoot an apple…” Matthew opened his arms in a showman’s style and narrowed his eyes at Duke Kendall. “Off your head, Your Grace.”
Duke Kendall sneered, but Matthew circled him.
“You’re so eager to see such a display, why not first hand? It is within my best interest to succeed. With this many witnesses, if I accidentally kill you, I’ll go straight to the gallows.” Matthew kept his eyes on him. “What do you say, Your Grace? Care to take the ultimate gamble with me?”
In Duke Kendall’s eyes was a flash of unease, but his face hardened. “This is absurd.”
“Are you so craven that you would stake a woman’s life and not your own?” Matthew challenged. “I had not taken you for a coward.”
Once spoken aloud, the word spread like a disease. Under rustling fabric and fans, whispers spread. Duke Kendall glanced around at the disapproving guests as they spoke their words under their breaths, quietly enough the insults bled together.
Coward. Craven.
Cur.
Duke Kendall raised his arms. “A jest, nothing more. I would never risk a woman’s life over my own.” He leaned in close to Matthew’s ear, tone dripping with venom. “Don’t miss.”
Duke Kendall walked to the target, pressed his back to it, and placed the apple on his head. Seth moved to place the blindfold over his eyes, and a deep Castilian accent broke through the silence.
“How can we be certain you’re not cheating?” Don Lorenzo stepped forward. “I’ve been watching you all evening. You don’t move, you don’t flinch. I cannot help but imagine you are fooling us all.”
Matthew faced him. “I don’t cheat.”
“Only one way to know for certain.” Don Lorenzo slid his finger under the knot of his black cravat and carefully unwound it from his neck. Holding the silk tight between his hands, he presented it to the guests. “I insist you use mine.”
Don Lorenzo took Seth’s place. The scent of cloves filled Matthew’s nose. He closed his eyes as the cloth covered them, desperately holding onto the location of the apple.
“I told you we would speak again once your vision cleared, but you never see things for how they are,” Don Lorenzo tied the cloth around Matthew’s head and whispered, “?Ve con claridad ahora?”
Matthew opened his eyes, and every sense awakened. Even with his eyes covered with cloth, he saw everything so clearly. His chest tightened. Every conversation with the man rose up in his mind, and realization hit him as violently as a shot.
He was wrong about Don Lorenzo.
Matthew’s voice shook. “Sí. Ahora comprendo.”
“Concéntrate, y termina esto.” Don Lorenzo gave him a hard pat on his shoulder, sending him stumbling forward a step. “Aim true.”
Seth came to load the pistol, but Matthew shook his head. “Hand me the rounds, Mr. Reeves. I’ll load it myself.”
Shutting out everything else, he focused on the cold feel of metal and the sound of Seth placing three rounds in his hand.
“Is the apple still on his head?” Matthew asked loudly, ensuring his voice carried.
“It is,” Seth affirmed.
As Matthew lifted the pistol, a sense of calmness washed over him. His breathing evened. His heartbeat slowed. He had three shots, but he only needed to connect with one. By the end of the night, he would be finished with Duke Kendall.
But first, a presentation.
The corner of his lips lifted. “I’m ready.”
***
Jasmine’s heart sank as Don Lorenzo tied the blindfold around Matthew’s eyes. She knew she shouldn’t have trusted him! The crowd fell silent. More than a few held their breath, as if even a whisper would offset Matthew’s aim.
But that tilt to his lip…
Was that a grin?
With a bounce in his step, Don Lorenzo dropped into the seat beside her, lounging back as if nothing were amiss.
“What have you done?” Jasmine hissed.
“Te ayudé,” he said simply. “Like you asked.”
“You’ve made it worse!” She stared at him incredulously. “You moved him!”
“Then I have made you a wealthy dowager.” Don Lorenzo shrugged. “Sit back and enjoy, Lady Lincolnshire.”
Matthew stood perfectly still. Duke Kendall’s face remained passive, but his skin paled in the moonlight. Matthew placed a round in the pistol, then closed it with a deafening snap. He raised it and Caroline gasped.
“Oh God, he’s going to kill him. Jasmine, you must stop him.” When Jasmine shook her head, Caroline turned to Cassandra. “Cassandra?!”
Cassandra sat with dawning horror, preparing to witness her brother murder a man for the second time. When Caroline realized she was as helpless as everyone else, she hid her head in her hands. “Sisters, please.”
Jasmine laced her fingers with Caroline’s and brought her hand into her lap.
All anyone could do was watch. All week, they had discussed possibilities, and with every one, there was one conclusion—trust Matthew to make the right decision.
As much as she trusted him, when faced with the reality of him aiming a gun at another man, her mind screamed the same plea: stop him.
“Shall we count?” he called out. “One!”
The first shot rang out. She flinched. Above the bullseye, a splintering crack formed in the target. Duke Kendall’s eyes widened. His knees shook, and the apple wobbled atop his head.
“Is he still alive?” Matthew joked.
“Too high!” one nobleman called out.
“Half an inch more to the left!” another joked.
The crowd laughed, ease returning with Matthew’s relaxed nature.
“Allow me to try again.” He lifted the pistol. “Two!”
“Two!” gentlemen echoed, cackling and crowing.
The next shot hit the space to the left of Duke Kendall’s head and he let out a sharp cry.
A drop of blood formed and dripped down the Duke’s right cheek.
He shook fully now, the apple on the verge of falling off.
For a moment, an awful thought crossed her mind. Good. Finally, he was the one afraid.
The demon could bleed.
Matthew waited with the pistol poised in the air. Seconds passed with his arm up, and he brought it back down to his side. Jasmine stopped breathing, her lungs bursting with the need for air. He was going to call it off. At any moment—
Slowly, he turned his head in her direction. He seemed to look right through her. He pressed his fingertip to his cheekbone and tapped twice.
A kiss for luck.
Jasmine placed her trembling fingers to her lips, and blew him a kiss, praying it would make it to him in time.
He raised the pistol again.
“Three,” the crowd yelled in unison, drowning out his voice. He held his finger on the trigger. Time dragged. He drew in a breath.
And squeezed.
The apple exploded. Chunks of white fruit flew in every direction. Pulp sprayed across Duke Kendall’s face. He held his shaking hands in front of him, staring at his ruined gloves.
A beat of silence—then the crowd erupted. They pointed and laughed, their cheers rising into the night. Jasmine stared in shock as Matthew removed his blindfold. He sauntered forward and placed the pistol in Duke Kendall’s hands.
“Another trophy for your wall, Your Grace. Such a shame we used all of the rounds. You’ll need to get them from me in the future, seeing as I’m the only one who makes them.”
Matthew dropped the empty cartridges at Duke Kendall’s feet, and wiped splattered apple from Duke Kendall’s neck with one fingertip.
“You’ll hang for this, Lord Lincolnshire! I will tell everyone what type of man you are.”
A woman’s voice yelled from the double doors.
“Has everyone had quite enough?!” Lady Ravenshaw seethed. “You dare enact such violence in front of civilized society!”
“A practiced event, Lady Ravenshaw.” Matthew raised his hands. “Duke Kendall knew the risk. He was never in any real danger.”
“And you!” Lady Ravenshaw pointed a finger at Duke Kendall.
“You should be ashamed of yourself for such vulgarity! It is in poor taste, especially when my fiancé has been recovering from a mugging in this very mansion all week!” She directed her gaze at the ballroom. “Is that not right, Lord Rothwell?!”
With his arm in a sling, and a fresh bruise around his eye, Lord Rothwell limped forward, keeping his face down. “It’s true.”