Page 36 of Good Duke Gone Hard

“Oh dear! The feathers!” Agatha choked up.

“Was it?” the ever stoic Kat looked as though her eyes were turning bleary.

“What are the chances you hit a bird?” Egged Reggie. “What a shot!”

“It wasn’t a bird. Just a branch. Nothing to fret about,” Lyle patted her arm. Despite her best efforts to hide it, Kat was shaken.

“I think I need some lemonade,” she said to no one in particular. When her request went unanswered, she repeated it. “Lyle?” She raised her eyebrows at him and swept her arm out to the side in order for him to steady her and escort her to a safer, quieter, less explosive place.

“Looks like we’re out,” Lyle ceded.

“You didn’t stand a chance, y’foozler,” Jonathan taunted.

“That reminds me. About our chess matches–”

“Where’s Davin?” Jonathan interrupted with a grin.

The groups stood looking around, counting the numbers, peering toward the bushes. “Has the old gibface fallen asleep? He’s been known to do that,” Reggie uttered unhelpfully.

“I believe…” Charlotte’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink. “He’s temporarily detained. At the moment…” It was not ladylike to mention such things as chamberpots or body functions, and of all the ladies to feel the embarrassment, not only to have to hold secret knowledge, but also to have to allude to it, Charlotte was the obvious choice for fate.

Saving her from turning any darker shades of pink, Jonathan said, “Alright, looks like it’s just me and the Colonel.”

“And me,” Margaret chimed in.

“You have no shots left. It’s just me and the Colonel.” Jonathan turned toward the Colonel. “What say you? Who will shoot first?”

“I believe it’s your turn,” the Colonel said.

Jonathan loaded his gun, took aim, and shot.

Bang! Nearly dead center. It was one of the best shots of the afternoon.

“Nice shot,” the Colonel lauded. “But perhaps,” he said as he loaded the gun. “Not quite as nice…” he aimed. “As this.” BANG!

Jonathan stared at the target.This wasn’t a big deal. There was little to no importance of this event. It did not signify.

How many more ways could he think it? He was sure it wouldn’t help at the moment. Before he could analyze how he was thinking or what he was feeling, he let himself be immersed by his competitive nature, and then he rose up. He puffed out his chest and inhaled heavily.

“Good shot,” he eyed the Colonel who was smiling softly at Margaret. “There’s only one way to determine the winner. To the horses!”

MARGARET HAD WANTED TO win, so she was delighted when the Colonel hit the bullseye. Wasn’t she?

Right after the Colonel shot, Margaret had turned first to Jonathan, and she saw a flicker of something in his eyes. She couldn’t label it, for she didn’t have time. And it was gone before anyone else could assess the look, so she couldn’t interpret it with Bella. Not that she wanted to discuss such peculiarities with Bella right now. How could she stand there with Jonathan and compete with him knowing what Jonathan meant to Margaret? It was reprehensible. And Jonathan was in on it.

She pushed away her thoughts as the troops walked toward where the stablehand had prepared two horses.

“Where are the rest of the horses?” Margaret inquired with as much calm as she could muster.

“Her Grace said to prepare two horses,” Henry, the stablehand, answered.

“So what will the Colonel do as I race against Jonathan?” She hadn’t noticed the lack of a side saddle.

Henry fiddled with a button on his shirt.

“I’m racing against the Colonel,” Jonathan spoke up.

“But–”

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