Page 28 of Beneath the Beastly Duke's Mask
Archery had been a hobby since she was old enough to hold a bow and arrow and she was quite the archeress. She had not brought her equipment with her as she wouldn't have been able to practice while working as a maid, so her aunt and uncle took it to Somerset.
Arabella took her time wiping down the arrows and bow, getting between the nooks and crannies. They were old but in good condition—the duke undoubtedly respected what he owned. He was like that with everything, never abusing his power as a duke. He really was different from the other lords she had met in the past.
Being her father's right hand had exposed her to all sorts of people, even aristocrats. The duke was the only one who didn't seem to think he was better than anyone. He simply expected people to do as they should, be that work or manners. Unfortunately, this also drew her more to him.
Arabella sighed, annoyed that she had let herself think about her feelings again. She was working hard to direct her thoughts away from her growing feelings, but it wasn't easy. The duke was such awonderfulman, better than any she had ever encountered, and she had met quite a few.
Many had approached her with marriage in mind, but none of them had been to her liking, much to her parents' annoyance. Arabella simply wanted something more out of a relationship than just suitability.
She wanted the kind of love her parents had, the sort that gave her mother the courage to leave her privileged life as the daughter of a baron to marry a poor physician. Arabella's parents built a life for themselves, eventually securing a lovely house and a comfortable lifestyle.
Arabella wanted to build a life with someone and would rather remain single than be with a man who didn't understand that. Had the duke been a simple man, she would have counted him as a potential candidate.
Putting the last arrow in its case, she stared at the target ahead. It had been a while since she had shot an arrow, and was tempted to do so again. Arabella looked around her, and upon seeing no one, she quickly picked up the bow and an arrow and shot at the target. It easily reached the center, making her smile. She may not have practiced in a while, but she was obviously just as good as the last time she shot an arrow.
Clapping behind her pulled a yelp from her and prompted her to turn around, albeit reluctantly. She didn't want to see who had caught her doing something she shouldn't have been doing, but curiosity often got the better of her fear and caution. However, she certainly didn't expect to see the duke standing behind her.
"Your Grace!" she cried, her heart in her throat. "I didn't mean to, I mean, I did, but... Oh!" she said, not able to help her stuttering. "I'm sorry, Your Grace. I just wanted to, and then I did, but now I'm very sorry."
She had taken advantage of his goodness, which was one of the majordo not dothat Mrs. Cooper had told her from the very beginning. She had broken a rule all because she wanted to shoot an arrow. It hadn't even been worth it despite her satisfaction.
The duke smiled as he approached her. “Calm down, Arabella,” he said.
“I shouldn't have been so bold, Your Grace,” she said, putting the bow aside. “I'll just fetch the arrow and wipe everything down. I'll never do it again.”
Arabella wanted to dig a hole and bury herself in it, but she made herself take a step toward the target to retrieve the arrow.
“Wait, Arabella,” the duke said, stopping her.
She turned back to him, hanging her head. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“You needn't look like you're being led to the slaughter,” he said, his voice filled with amusement. “I do not mind what you just did. In fact, I rather admire your skill. Where on earth did you learn such a skill?”
Arabella looked up. The duke wassmiling—he really wasn't annoyed. “My mother was an archeress, Your Grace,” she told him. “She taught me everything she knows. Knew,” she corrected.
The duke frowned slightly. He appeared confused, and she didn't blame him. He likely wanted to know how a common woman came to count archery as a skill.
“My mother was a baron's daughter, Your Grace,” she explained. “She was disowned when she decided to marry my father.”
“I see,” he said, nodding. “That explains a lot about you.” He didn't offer any elaborations on what he meant. “Tell me, what is your range?”
He pointed at the target. Arabella had still expected him to ask a little more about her background, so she was surprised when he suddenly changed the topic.
"Well, I can shoot a moving target and an arrow through a narrow space from several meters away," she said. "I have good eyes, and my mother taught me how to anticipate a moving target's direction and speed. She was a magnificent archeress. She could sit sidesaddle and shoot accurately—something many men would not be able to do."
“I believe you are likely just as magnificent as your mother,” the duke said. “Do you fancy a little competition? I haven't competed against anyone since the old duke. I'd like to see my skill level against yours.”
He had saidold dukeagain and notFather. Arabella had often wondered why the duke referred to his father like that. It was rather interesting. In fact, whenever he spoke about the duke or duchess, it was almost with reverence and not how a son would usually talk about his parents. It made her wonder about his relationship with them.
“Arabella?” he pressed.
"I would like that, Your Grace," she said. "Please select your preferred bow and arrows. I'm happy with whatever you allow me to use.”
“Are you that confident?” he asked, grinning.
His grin went straight to her belly, and burst into millions of winged emotions. "Cleaning them has given me a good idea of their capabilities," she said. "There's not much difference."
“I see,” he said. “In that case, which would you suppose was the best bow?”
