Page 67 of The Duelist for the Ton
He lifted her hand to his lips, and her eyes flared with desire.
“Most men believe that women only desire gifts,” she continued. “But the truth is that wealldesire gifts. The mistake men make is that we want material gifts—jewelry, trinkets, pin money. Those are the gifts that are given with the expectation of something in return, such as our obedience, forgiveness, orbodies. The only gift given with no expectation of return, and therefore the only gift that truly comes from the soul, is trust.”
Her lips curved into a smile, and he fought the urge to claim them.
“I knew,” she whispered, “from that moment in the library that night, that I could trust you.”
“The moment in—”
He broke off as he recalled the ball—the night he’d taken sanctuary in Lord Thorpe’s library, besieged by the memories of the stench of battle…when an angel had come to him, taken his hand, and delivered him from the brink.
“Portia…”
Her eyes darkened at his use of her name, and she parted her lips. Might he taste them again, capture an illicit kiss while the party were occupied elsewhere?
He raised his eyebrows in a plea, and she again smiled.
“Ladies!” the duchess called out, and he jerked free, his cheeks warming with shame, as if he were a lovestruck adolescent caught ogling an angel. “And gentlemen, of course,” the duchess added. “Would you take your places? The first round of the competition is about to begin. Then afterward we’ll break for luncheon with the rest of the gentlemen.”
Stephen turned to see the competitors lining up, facing the targets at the far end of the lawn. Lady Portia plucked a bow and quiver from the table and handed them to him. “Shall we?”
“If it pleases you,” he replied, with a smile.
They lined up with the rest of the party, ten competitors in total, with their hostess and Lady Hardwick watching.
“Are you not going to join us, Duchess?” Stephen asked.
“I lack the talent for it, colonel,” she replied.
“So do I, Your Grace,” Hardwick said. “You can take my place if you wish.”
“I’m afraid, Lord Hardwick, that my talent at archery is such that those standing behind me are in greater danger of being hit than the target. Besides, do you not want to claim victory for your wife?”
“Here, Augustus,” Lady Hardwick said, pulling out a handkerchief from her reticule. “Take my favor.”
He took it, pressed it to his lips, then slid it into his jacket pocket over his heart.
Such gallantry in most gentlemen was considered merely a gesture, but sincerity shone in Hardwick’s eyes. He adored his wife unreservedly.
What must it be like to adore such a woman—and be adored in return?
“Five arrows each,” their hostess said. “The four highest scores will compete in the afternoon. In the event of a tie for fourth place, you must each shoot one more arrow, until we have four clear winners.”
As it transpired, there was no tie. Lady Portia’s bow seemed to be a part of her, and her first four arrows hit the center of the target. When, just before she let her fifth arrow fly, Lady Hardwick sneezed and dropped her teacup, which shattered on the terrace, Lady Portia flinched and shot wide. Laughing at her folly, she offered her shawl to Lady Hardwick then admonished Lord Hardwick for not taking proper care of his wife while she sat outside in the cold. When he apologized, she laughed again, her body shaking with mirth. Then she turned her clear blue gaze on Stephen and his heart was lost.
“Lady Portia, I distracted you—you must take your final shot again,” Lady Hardwick said.
“Absolutely not, Beatrice. The proficient archer should be able to focus entirely on her quarry and conquer any distractions from around her.”
“It matters not, anyway,” the duchess said. “Lady Portia still scored higher than everyone save Colonel Reid.”
Miss Whitcombe approached and linked her arm with her sister-in-law’s. “How did you become so proficient with a bow, colonel?”
“My father taught me when I was a boy,” Stephen replied, smiling at the memory. “He used to tell me that a true marksman must master two skills.”
“Which are?”
“A steady hand and the ability to breathe.”
