A Duke to Remember (A Season for Scandal Book 2) (13 page)

Beside him John snorted. “As a man with six children, I can, with good authority, say that it’s not.”

Noah choked, and John cheerfully pounded him on the back. “I heard she made blackberry jam after she milked your cows this morning,” his friend said. “She saved my son and my wife rather adores her. And she makes you smile. Forget whatever I said about being cautious. You might want to think about keeping her.” John thumped Noah on the back one more time before heading off.

When Noah caught his breath, he looked again for Elise, but she was gone from where he’d last seen her. A flash of green coupled with blue caught his eye, and he saw that Elise and Sarah had wandered close to the edge of a field, to an area surrounded by a low stone fence and dotted with wooden targets. A handful of men stood casually in conversation under the shade of an open-sided tent, and a collection of firearms leaned against the fence. He could see Sarah gesturing to the field, no doubt explaining to Elise the rules of the shooting contest that would start shortly. Elise was listening with half an ear, her eyes scanning the edges of the pasture before perusing the knots of people standing nearest to them.

Her casual mien had slipped a little, and she looked wary and watchful now.

Noah shook his head and made his way over to the women.

“Mr. Lawson.” Sarah greeted him happily as he approached. “I was wondering where you’d gotten to.”

“Your husband led me astray,” he said lightly, gesturing to the ale in his hand.

“That didn’t take long,” Sarah said wryly. She glanced past Noah’s shoulder and suddenly waved at someone. “Excuse me for just a moment,” she said before slipping past him.

“Would you like a drink?” Noah asked Elise, who was still watching their surroundings as though she expected a horde of Huns to pop out from the trees.

“No, thank you,” Elise murmured.

“Let me rephrase.” Noah held out his cup to her. “Please have a drink.”

Her eyes came back to him. “No, thank you. I need to keep my wits sharp.”

“You need to relax.”

“I can’t. There are a lot of people here.”

“Yes, and they all belong here.” He held her gaze. “My life is not in danger.” He felt foolish saying that, surrounded as he was by people he had known for a decade.

Elise’s posture eased slightly. “You will tell me if anything changes?”

“Tell you if what changes?” Sarah was back, slightly breathless.

“Tell her if I change my mind about participating in the shooting contest,” Noah said smoothly.

“You’re not going to compete?” Sarah asked.

Noah eyed the field. “I haven’t decided.”

“Well, you should.” Sarah turned to Elise. “Mr. Lawson won the shooting contest last year, you know,” she told her.

“You won last year?” Elise’s eyes bored into him. “You never mentioned you were…proficient with firearms.”

He met her eyes. “You never asked.”

“Touché.” He thought he saw Elise’s lips twitch. “Just how proficient are you?”

“Oh, I do all right.”

“He beat thirty other contestants,” Sarah offered.

A dark brow went up. “Thirty?”

“Half of whom were in their cups, I’m sure,” he told her.

“
Pfft.
” Sarah made a noise of disbelief. “No one was in their cups, and you well know it, Mr. Lawson.” She poked him in the chest. “I can’t think of anyone who would participate in anything that involved firearms and vast quantities of alcohol. It’s why they have shooting first and croquet second. Because unlike shooting, croquet is much improved by vast quantities of alcohol.”

Elise laughed at that, and Noah found himself laughing with her. “Agreed,” he said.

Her posture had eased, Noah saw. In fact Elise was smiling wickedly now as she walked over to the guns that were leaning against the stone fence. She selected a long smoothbore military musket, running her hand over its iron barrel. “If you’re not going to compete, would you care to give a demonstration of your proficiency, Mr. Lawson?” she asked.

Noah set his ale on the top of the fence and stepped forward, feeling lighter than he had in a long time, and not a little reckless. “What’s in it for me?”

“The preservation of your pride, for one.” Elise said, examining the gun with a critical eye.

“I’m not worried about my pride.”

“Says the man who hasn’t had the privilege yet of losing to a girl.” She advanced toward him, stopping only a breath away.

“Is that a challenge, Miss DeVries?”

Elise smirked and tipped her head. “Yes.”

Noah felt a thrill of anticipation, and something else entirely, race through his veins. “Then I accept.”

“What are the stakes?” she asked. “Besides your pride, that is.”

“You seem certain I will lose.”

“You will.”

Behind Elise, Sarah was listening to their exchange with wide eyes and a great deal of interest. “You think you could beat Mr. Lawson in a shooting contest?”

“She might.” Noah grinned, loving the way Elise grinned back. “She’s very fond of firearms. And I’ve been advised she’s very, very good.”

Sarah’s brows shot to her hairline, even as she joined Elise with a delighted smile. “Then by all means, Miss DeVries, I think you should show Mr. Lawson a thing or two about—”

“Mr. Lawson!” The address rang over whatever Sarah had been about to say next. “Mr. Lawson!”

Noah turned to find a woman riding toward them on a fine grey horse, scattering people standing in her way like water in front of a ship’s bow. He groaned silently.

“Oh saints preserve us,” Sarah muttered under her breath, echoing his thoughts. “It’s Her Majesty come to torment the serfs.”

The woman on the grey mare was young, probably no more than twenty, dressed in an elaborate riding habit. Her blond hair was glossy and tucked stylishly beneath a brimmed hat that shaded her flawless, milky complexion. The groom who had been traveling with her dropped back at the careless wave of her hand, and she reined her mare to a stop just in front of them.

“Mr. Lawson,” the woman said, a soft breathlessness to her voice, “I am so relieved to see you hale.” Her eyes traveled over Noah from head to foot as though she were evaluating a prize bull brought to market.

“Miss Silver”—Noah straightened—“a pleasure to see you.” The way he was holding himself told Elise it was anything but.

“Of course,” the woman said, her eyes skipping to Elise.

“Miss Silver, may I introduce Miss DeVries.” Noah’s introduction sounded stiff.

“Indeed.” Miss Silver’s eyes were now busy evaluating Elise’s gown, her hair. Her lip curled slightly as she eyed the long gun Elise still held in her hand. “I heard you saved a child from drowning, Mr. Lawson. And I just had to see for myself that you were fine. I was overset with worry.”

I just had to see for myself.
Elise bit back an amused snort, knowing the woman’s interest had nothing to do with Noah’s health and everything to do with rumors of a lass.

“It wasn’t me.”

“Hmmm?” Miss Silver was still examining Elise.

“Wasn’t me,” Noah repeated patiently.

“Do speak up, Mr. Lawson. I can barely hear you.” The woman’s crop tapped impatiently on the edge of her sidesaddle, and her mare shifted nervously, only to be brought up short.

Manners were preventing Noah from addressing this woman the way she deserved to be addressed. Luckily, Elise suffered no such problems. “Mr. Lawson was trying to find a polite way to tell you that you are in error while sparing your pride, Miss Silver,” she said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I regret to tell you that you’ve been misinformed.”

“Do you know who I am?” Miss Silver demanded, each syllable icy.

“Should I?” While Elise didn’t know
who
, she certainly recognized
what
. Dismissive. Spoiled. Entitled. Inconsiderate. She had dealt with too many to count in her service to Chegarre & Associates, and they were all the same. And it was generally expedient to simply tell them what they wanted to hear and send them on their way.

“The Honorable Miss Silver is Baron Corley’s daughter,” Noah said, sounding weary.

“Yes, and you would do well to remember that,” she snapped.

“How impressive,” Elise murmured, making sure to put a believable amount of reverence into her words. “I’ve never met a baron’s daughter before,” she continued with perfect honesty. Her clientele tended to trend toward women addressed as “Your Grace.”

Miss Silver preened slightly.

Noah slanted Elise an incredulous look. Belatedly she became aware that a number of men had gathered, presumably for the start of the shooting contest, and were listening to the conversation.

“It was Miss DeVries who saved the child from drowning,” Noah interrupted, his voice tight, his patience clearly coming to an end. “Andrew Barr was extremely fortunate to have had someone of such capability and courage near at hand when he fell from that bridge.”

“
Pshht.
Anyone could have saved that boy,” Miss Silver pouted under her breath, seemingly taking a great deal of exception to Noah’s referring to Elise as capable and courageous.

“No, they could not.” Now Noah sounded thoroughly annoyed. “It took an extremely strong swimmer to preserve his life.”

Miss Silver’s face set mutinously. She stared at the rifle in Elise’s hands, letting her contempt show. “And I suppose you think you can shoot as well as you can swim, Miss DeVries?”

“Better.” It was Sarah who snapped out that answer, furiously indignant on Elise’s behalf. “She can shoot better.”

An interested hum went up from the crowd behind them, which had overheard the conversation, and Elise groaned to herself. The last thing she needed was a spectacle.

For the first time, Miss Silver seemed to become aware that she had an audience. She allowed a smug smile to creep across her face. “Ah, Mrs. Barr. You sound very confident. I didn’t expect such from you. But as it happens, I am an excellent shot. A little hobby of mine, if you will. Perhaps, if the gentlemen allow us, we might discover just who is the most…accomplished.” She aimed a self-satisfied, triumphant look in the direction of Noah.

Elise resisted the urge to snort. She had seen such posturing in Mayfair ballrooms, but never had she had the privilege of witnessing it in the middle of a fenced sheep pasture. “I don’t think that there is any need to prove—”

“Of course you feel the need to refuse. I didn’t imagine that you were actually as courageous as Mr. Lawson seemed to think you were.” Miss Silver sniffed.

“
Merde
,” Elise said under her breath. Had this chit just called her a coward? In front of a crowd of people? This bird-witted woman had just backed her into a very awkward corner.

Noah stepped forward, his posture rigid, his fists clenched at his sides. “Have a care with your words, Miss Silver.”

Elise stared at Noah, startled. It didn’t matter that Miss Silver and all her juvenile opinions didn’t signify, or that Elise was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Noah had still leaped to her defense. A warmth such as she had never known spread through her, suffusing the smallest corners of her heart. She wanted to touch him, slide her arms around him, and never let go.

Miss Silver had recoiled, her eyes narrowing spitefully. “Have a care with
your
tone, Mr. Lawson,” she sniped back. “Do not forget that you are addressing your better. I am the daughter of a baron, and you are…
nothing
.”

“Miss Silver has caused me no offense,” Elise interrupted hastily. Beside her the tension in Noah’s body was a palpable thing. She leaned into him. “While I appreciate your knightly errancy, Sir Noah, please endeavor to remember what I said about duels,” she whispered in his ear.

He frowned fiercely. “I wasn’t about to challenge an idiot of a girl to a duel,” he hissed back.

“Good to hear.” She paused. “Perhaps you should mention to her that you’re a duke and that you take exception to
her
tone.”

Noah goggled at her.

“It would be fun to see her faint right off her pony. A shilling says she goes ass over teakettle right over the rump of that mare, as opposed to sliding off the side like a sack of turnips.”

“
Elise
,” he hissed in horror.

“Or perhaps I might come back here and pay her a visit as a French princess. On second thought, I’ve got a Bavarian empress who owes me a favor.”

“
What?
What the hell are you talking about?”

“It might be fun to knock Miss Silver off her sanctimonious social perch, don’t you think?” Elise mused.

“You’re insane.” Noah was gaping at her.

“My brother often uses the word
diabolical
.” But Noah was now fighting a smile, so whatever diabolical insanity she wielded was well worth it.

“What are you whispering about?” Miss Silver demanded.

Elise raised her voice. “Oh, teakettles and turnips—”

“Perhaps you might like to challenge me to a contest instead, Miss Silver.” Noah cut Elise off, giving her a warning look that lacked any real threat.

“Why on earth would I want to do that?” Miss Silver asked. “You won the shooting contest last year, Mr. Lawson. What is the point in competing against someone you’re unlikely to beat?”

Elise swallowed a smirk. “What indeed?” she murmured.

Noah elbowed her.

“I want to shoot against Miss DeVries.” Miss Silver banged her crop on the edge of her saddle like a petulant child, and her mare pinned her ears. “And I can think of only one reason why she would refuse.”

Elise could think of many, but it seemed pointless to argue any of them. “Very well, Miss Silver. If the gentlemen agree to postpone their own contest for a short while, I would be happy to accept your challenge.” She glanced around her at the ever-increasing crowd and was met by vehement agreement. Dammit.

“Good.” Miss Silver looked pleased with herself.

Noah muttered something foul under his breath before he suddenly slid from her side and disappeared into the crowd. Where the hell was he going—

“What is going on here?” The demand came from a man pushing his way through the onlookers.