He took the blindfold from Matthew and held it in a strangle-holdbetween his hands. Trying not to focus on the Duke behind him, Matthew memorized the location of the target, mentally calculating distance and angle.
“Three times.” Duke Kendall placed the blindfold over Matthew’s eyes. “No cheating.”
Blackness enveloped Matthew’s vision, and the rest of his senses enhanced. The heat of the sun burned his face, and the soil beneath his feet shifted under his weight. He inhaled the mingling scents of ambergris from Duke Kendall’s perfume, gunpowder, and his own sweat. One trickle ran down his cheek and caught at the corner of his lip, filling his mouth with the taste of salt.
Matthew inhaled deeply. He could hitanythingat this distance—with a flintlock pistol half the weight. Blind, he rummaged through his pocket for the cartridges. His fingertips met the lace of Jasmine’s gloves, and then a metal round.
As deftly as he could, he opened the pistol, loaded the cartridge, and lifted the gun. When he squeezed the trigger, violent vibrations traveled up his arm. Seth smoothed the shot, but Matthew felt the subtle disconnect when he squeezed the trigger. Repeating the process, he heard each round hit the target.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
Matthew lifted his blindfold. And his heart dropped. Three holes lay in the target…
In a triangle surrounding the outside ring.
Duke Kendall’s face contorted with his scowl, and his voice snapped like a whip.
“Still not ready.”
He turned on his heel and walked to the house.
Matthew ran after him.
“Your Grace, the pistolisaccurate! It’s my skill—I’m unfamiliar with the weight. There’s plenty of time to get it right. I only need topractice—”
“I expect the best from you, Lord Lincolnshire. You’ve been given ample time, and the pistol is far from done. I can’t help but wonder if you’re unnecessarily distracted.” Duke Kendall looked pointedly at Jasmine, then back at Matthew. “I would hate for you to embarrass me on my birthday.”
As he walked away, Matthew bowed. A murmuring came from behind him, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from Duke Kendall’s retreating form.
Soft footprints approached, and a gentle hand held his elbow. Concern graced Jasmine’s features. His shaking hands reached into his pocket and held her gloves out to her.
“Please forgive me.” He closed his eyes and whispered, “I failed you.”
Instead of taking her gloves, Jasmine took his face in her hands, then lifted his chin until their eyes met. “Is it always like that with him?”
“I’m normally better at managing him,” he mumbled. “I shouldn’t have let him touch you.”
“He’s far from the first man who’s touched me without my permission. And he’s a duke.” She half-shrugged. “There was nothing you could have done.”
Matthew gave a self-deprecating scoff.
That’s the problem.
He could do nothing to stop a duke from touching his sisters or his intended. Or from tainting a memory. All of his strength and wit—crushed under the thumb of a tyrant. Now, Duke Kendall’s sights would be set on the woman who challenged him openly and his golden-haired, freckle-covered baby sister.
“He’s intimidating, but you know,” Caroline whispered to Cassandra, “I think helikedme.”
“Don’t even dream of it,” Matthew snapped. “You’re going home.”
Caroline scrunched the skin at the top of her nose. Cassandra reached forward and linked her arm with her sister’s.
“We’ll discuss this on the way home.”
“Sister, this is the opportunity of a lifetime,” Caroline hissed.
“And you aren’t taking it,” Matthew said. “Seth, Trevor, go to the factory. Check the schematics foranypoints of failure. Blackmoor—”
“I’ll take the women home,” Blackmoor said. Face set with narrowed eyes, he kept his attention on the door where Duke Kendall had disappeared. “I’ll keep them safe.”