Page 62 of A Lady's Lesson in Scandal
Drake was familiar with sizing up an opponent from their stance and hold on the dart. Surprisingly, Nora looked like an expert. This did not bode well.
Holding her arm at a ninety-degree angle, Nora pulled her forearm back and let the dart fly. It spiralled through the air, landing in the middle right quadrant. A good shot. She looked over her shoulder at Millie. ‘Oh, did I forget to tell you? I love darts. I play at home all the time. Godric bought me my own board for a birthday gift last year, didn’t you, darling?’
Godric took a healthy sip of brandy, refusing to answer his wife. But his face was flushed, and his lips pressed together in a white line as he swallowed.
Nora threw her other two darts in quick succession. One landed in the lower right quadrant, not quite as accurate. But the third was just left of centre. Almost a bull’s eye.
Fuck.
Drake would need to find an excuse to avoid kissing Nora at all costs while still reclaiming Millie’s ring. Short of screaming fire and grabbing the ring from Nora while he ran for the door, he was completely flummoxed.
‘Your turn.’ Nora sauntered past Millie, whose face had paled slightly.
Drake would have cut off his damaged leg if it would protect his fiancée from embarrassment. But he was helpless to save her from what was sure to be a devastating loss.
Millie stood in the same spot Nora vacated. She rolled her shoulders, testing the weight of the dart in her hand. But instead of gripping the dart between her thumb and forefinger in the middle of the shaft, she held the base of the dart just before the flight. Her position was also wrong. She didn’t hold her arm at a ninety-degree angle but instead let it rest against her thigh.
Patricia’s bell-like laughter filled the room. ‘The silly girl isn’t even holding it right,’ she crowed.
‘Of course not. When has Millie ever played a game of darts?’ St George smiled at Millie like an indulgent father.
Drake was torn between glaring at Patricia and plotting St George’s imminent demise. He noticed Philippa at the edge of the room. She was watching Millie, a small smile curling her lips.
What the Devil is going on here?
Thwack!
Drake turned his head sharply back to the dart board. Millie’s dart still quivered from the force of her throw. It was buried dead centre in the board. The crowd gasped.
Millie took the next dart and, in a movement so fast, he could barely track her, she flicked her arm out like someone brandishing a whip. The dart flew like a bullet. Drake watched it slam into the leather, almost knocking her first dart from its place in the bull’s eye. The third dart hit the only one Nora threw close to the centre, knocking it free from the leather. Both darts landed with a clatter on the wooden floor.
In the complete silence following her display, Millie’s skirts rustled like wind through autumn leaves as she walked to Nora, standing so close the smaller woman had to crane her neck to meet Millie’s gaze.
‘Major General Drake’s ring, please.’ She held out her hand; her tone brooked no argument.
Nora fumbled the box, almost dropping it to the floor before she grasped the ring and shoved it at Millie.
‘That isn’t how you throw a dart, you know,’ Nora hissed.
‘Well, it certainly isn’t howyouthrow a dart.’ Millie looked meaningfully at the board before turning on her heel and striding across the room to Drake.
‘Your ring, darling,’ she drawled, dropping the opal into his palm. Drake’s playfulness evaporated after he saw her throw the first dart. His suspicions were turning into accusations.
He narrowed his gaze at her, but before he could ask any questions, she turned away, gliding across the floor to stand next to Philippa.
Something was very wrong.
Drake had never seen a person throw darts in that manner, but he had seen soldiers who threw knives. Knives that looked a lot like the ones Millie had strapped to her luscious body. Which begged the question: who trained his betrothed to throw her daggers with the accuracy of an assassin? And why?
His gaze lingered on Millie as she leaned close to Philippa and whispered something into the duchess’ ear.
One thing was certain. His blushing bride was dangerous. And he was determined to discover the truth behind her lies.
‘For a woman with secrets to keep, that was rather bold, don’t you think?’ Philippa kept her eyes on the rest of the guests as Millie leaned against the wall near her mentor.
‘Some lessons can only be taught with a firm hand. A lesson I learned from my dear stepmother.’ But truth be told, Millie knew her actions had been reckless. Especially after what she’d revealed to Drake on the chaise. It didn’t stop the warm flush of satisfaction from washing over her skin.
‘Your fiancé is sure to have questions.’ Philippa’s thumb rubbed circles against her index finger. She was not pleased.
