Page 13 of The Duke of Daring (The Untouchables)
“Then you’ll have to shoot them yourself so that you can form an opinion,” Henderson said. “When we’re finished here, we’ll head over to Manton’s.” He signaled for a young lad, apparently an employee, to come to the table.
Wells blinked at Henderson, his jaw slack. “What, now? Tonight?”
“Why not?” Henderson gave the boy instructions to find his coach on the street and send his footman to Manton’s to make the arrangements. “Now, let us finish. I want to make my hundred quid.”
Lucy doubled her focus, intent on winning. Three tricks later, she and Dartford had won, and she was just shy of a hundred pounds richer. An excellent result, but still not enough to enter the shooting wager. She eyed Dartford, wondering if he’d summon a reason to take her home first. She couldn’t imagine how he’d do that without abdicating his own participation in the wager.
Henderson stood. “We can ride over to Davies Street in my coach.”
“Just so,” Dartford said, smiling. He unfolded himself from his chair and stretched his shoulders. “After you, Henderson.”
Henderson led the way, followed by Wells. Dartford hung back a few paces and sidled closer to Lucy.
“You’re letting me go?” she asked him as they departed the room.
“I’m glad to see you’ve accepted that I will decide what you should and shouldn’t do—for your safety, you understand.”
His audacity and arrogance were aggravating, but she couldn’t deny that he was useful. Or that in his presence she felt, yes, safer. Protected, even.
But it wouldn’t do for him to know that. She stopped for a moment to roll her eyes at him and then exhaled in an exaggerated fashion. “Thank goodness for you.”
His dark gaze was direct, almost intimate. “Careful, that breathy sound was very womanly.”
Something about the way he looked at her and the manner in which he said “womanly” made her flesh tingle. She refused to consider that she might find him attractive. “Don’t ask if I can participate in the wager. I don’t have the funds.”
“I could spot you what you need.”
A tempting offer, but she’d learned from her father’s mistakes. Never ever borrow, particularly if there was any chance you couldn’t pay it back. What most people failed to comprehend was that there wasalwaysa chance you couldn’t pay it back. Nothing in life was certain.
“No, thank you,” she said, starting toward the stairs.
He walked alongside her. “It’s only a few pounds.”
She shook her head. “I don’t borrow.”
“An admirable characteristic. How about if Igiveit to you?”
“A gentleman does not give…memoney.” She’d been about to say a gentleman doesn’t givea ladymoney. But ladies didn’t frequent gaming hells either. Perhaps she was being foolish. She had money at home—her winnings from her other nights of gambling. In this instance, sheknewshe could pay him back. On the other hand, if she placed the wager and lost…she’d be out a hundred pounds.
“Think about it on the way,” he said as they followed Henderson and Wells down the stairs.
Outside, they climbed into Henderson’s coach. He and Wells took the front-facing seat, which left the rear-facing one for Lucy and Dartford. The small space required she sit far too close to him. Dartford was a larger than average man, so their thighs nearly touched. Lucy’s legs were not as padded as her upper body. She wished they were so that she was not so aware of his presence. Or more accurately, of the fact that shewasattracted to him.
Blast.
As they traveled to Manton’s, they argued as to which gun would fire most accurately. By the time they’d arrived, the wager had increased to a hundred and fifty pounds. Lucy couldn’t bring herself to take that much from Dartford.
Manton himself, a man who was much the same age as Wells and Henderson, greeted them, and Henderson had to pay him a fee to open at this hour as well as to allow them to shoot the Purdey and Wogdon, which Henderson’s footman had somehow obtained.
Henderson coughed as he turned from Manton and looked at Lucy. “If you’d care to shoot all three weapons, you can then make a decision about your wager.”
It wasn’t a question. He assumed Lucy was going to place a bet. She sent Dartford a panicked look. He responded with a subtle inclination of his head and a reassuring stare.
That feeling of protection rushed over her again. The independent woman she thought herself to be wanted to hate it. But somewhere, in places she hadn’t known existed, she liked it very much.
Lucy let out a breath and tried to focus on the thrill of being able to fire the weapons. She was inside Manton’s! And she was going to shoot three of the best pistols ever made.
Manton led them to the shooting gallery. The room was large, easily the size of a grand ballroom, but with a rectangular shape. The ceilings were high, with massive chandeliers that were not currently lit. Instead, lanterns had been placed about the space. It wasn’t a terribly bright environment, but Lucy didn’t care.
