“Only because of your teaching.” She drew out an arrow from the quiver herself this time. “I still don’t feel as if I know what I’m doing.”
He heard a sigh to the right of them. He glanced over to see the bored groom sitting cross-legged on the ground.
Joshua headed over to hand the young man a sovereign. “Take this,” he said. “There’s no point in you suffering through our practice when you can be having a pint at that tavern we passed on our way here.”
The groom jumped to his feet. “Milady? Do you mind?”
“Not in the least.” She didn’t even look at him, waving him off with her arrow before nocking it into the bowstring. “We may be here a while longer, given how bad I am at this.”
The groom bowed. “Thank you, milady. Thank you, Major.” Then he ran off.
Joshua returned to her side.
“How do you know so much about shooting with a bow and arrow anyway?” she asked. “It’s not as if anyone uses them in battle or hunting anymore. Or do they?”
“They don’t. But my grandfather was a member of the Royal Toxophilite Society in London. Toxophilite means—”
“I know what it means, Joshua. It’s a fancy word for a skilled archer.” She lifted a brow at him. “As your sister once told you, ‘Icanread, you know.’”
“Forgive me,” he said coldly. “I didn’t intend to question your reading abilities.”
“Don’t get all grumpy over it. I was merely pointing out that you aren’t the only one who knows something about books.” She nocked her arrow and shot it wide of the target. “And go on with what you were saying about your grandfather, the old duke.”
He shook his head at her. She was the only woman he’d ever met who was never put off by his being “grumpy.” “Grandfather was quite the archer; he taught me everything I know. That’s how I became aware of this place. It’s where the Toxophilite Society used to have their matches. I shot in one of those matches before I was shipped off to the Continent.”
“How old were you when you left?”
“Sixteen.” Before his leg was damaged forever. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
“So young?”
He shrugged. “I was lucky to have a grandfather willing to buy me a commission even though my father had died fighting a scandalous duel over a lady of ill repute. And sixteen is the usual age to start in the Royal Marines. At least I wasn’t in the navy. There, you start at twelve.”
A pensive expression crossed her face as she held the bow to her bosom. “I can’t imagine sending off my twelve-year-old son to battle.”
“Yet you would send him to Eton without a thought?”
“That’s different. There aren’t any cannonballs volleyed at you at Eton.” She cleared her throat. “So, is this bow your grandfather’s?”
“Actually, it’s Beatrice’s. I had it made for her when she found his old bows and wanted me to teach her. I believe she had a mind to get me interested in something—anything—after I was finally able to be up and around.”
“You mean, after you were wounded in battle.”
“Precisely.” And he didnotwant to talk about that with her. He couldn’t bear to see the pity in her eyes. “Anyway, I went over to Greycourt’s mansion last night to borrow it from her. I told her you wanted to learn to shoot.”
He knew he’d said too much when she narrowed her gaze on him. “So what you’re telling me is you had already planned this charade when we arrived in London? That you actually told Beatrice the truth of it, and she didn’t bat an eye?”
The look of betrayal in her eyes unsettled him. “Don’t blame her. I . . . um . . . didn’texactlytell her the truth of it. She didn’t know you wanted to learn to shoot a pistol.”
“So you tricked her, too.” She faced the target, her expression grim. “Next time I see her, I intend to inform her of the full truth about that.”
It began to irritate him that she couldn’t understand why he’d done it. “Go right ahead. She will side with you in the matter, I’m sure. Though I daresay her husband will side with me.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that if I were you,” she mumbled.
She might be right, actually. Greycourt wasn’t like any duke he’d ever met. The man had married Beatrice, after all, and at the very least that required keeping an open mind about what sort of woman would make a good wife.
Gwyn would make a good wife for any man who didn’t give a farthing about what society thought. A man like him, come to think of it.
