Kay Springsteen (30 page)

“
Come along. The morning waits for no man.
”
The dowager marched through the salon, followed by her assortment of cats. Annabella counted e
ight haughty tails swishing as they walked. Heavens! Th
at
put the count at three more than had attended dinner the previous evening. Were there even more hiding somewhere? A shudder
rippled through her
.
I hate cats. Hate. Them.

Having no choice but to follow, she fell in line behind the dowager, curiosity and a bit of unease replacing some of the fury she felt. Where could the woman be taking her?
T
he hallway they traversed led to the kitchen, but going outside seemed to be the dowager
’
s intention, given she had on a bonnet. Or rather
,
a very unusual squat, flat-top straw hat with a short brim. The elegant red velvet band looked out of place on the tattered
hat
. Annabella had never seen anything quite like it before.

Wherever they were heading
, it obviously didn
’
t entail leaving the estate. At least Annabella couldn
’
t imagine a woman of nobility being seen in public in such attire
and
with several cats in
attendance
. While the dowager duchess wore
her
linen dress in a pleasing shade of cream with the regal air of a queen, it had certainly seen better days. As had the dark leather belt, which had some sort of cylinder attached to the right side. The container was several inches long and about four inches wide at the top, tapering down to about half that size at the bottom. And what the devil was sticking out the top of it? Arrows?

As they entered the kitchen, a young boy of about ten hurried toward them with a bow cradled in his arms, his unkempt wavy brown hair fluttering. He stopped in front of the dowager and handed her the bow.

“
Thank you, Ernest. Now go fetch my smallest bow, another quiver with arrows, and my black shooting glove. You may bring them to the range.
”

“
Right away, your grace.
”
The young boy ran up the back stairs.

Bow? Arrows? Shooting glove?
A
nnabella furrowed her brow.
What trouble has your temper gotten you into this time? Perhaps Seabrook
’
s grandmother intends to use you as a target.

The dowager glanced over her shoulder.
“
Come along, then.
”

How wise was it to follow the woman she had delibe
rately provoked at dinner the previous evening?
Did
the dowager intend to now exact her revenge? Annabella sighed and headed out the door after
her
. Best not to irritate her further.

The sun shined high in the sky, bathing her in warmth. A gentle breeze fluttered through her hair
and
tickl
ed
her skin. She loved the feel of her hair waving in the wind, free of ties and combs and without a hat pressing into her head
and
heating her scalp.

Once down the path and away from the house, the dowager began to speak, her words as crisp and precise as her steps on the dirt path.
“
You simply cannot throw a tantrum unless you intend to do it properly. Flinging things willy-nilly, yelling so the rosebuds close up… By my word, whatever possessed my grandson to marry such a simpering female is beyond me.
”

Annabella stiffened.
“
Funny. I was just thinking my judgment was poorly lacking when
I
married
him
.
”

The dowager stopped and stared at Annabella, eyebrows raised. After a beat of silence, she let out a hoot of laughter and
clapped Annabella on the back.
“
Well said, my dear. Well said. Now that
’
s how you spar with someone. There might be hope for you yet.
But we simply must improve your skill with weapons.
”

She started walking again, and Annabella followed, surprised that she had to lengthen her stride to keep up.

“Weap— I beg your pardon? Weapons?”

The dowager offered an indulgent smile and patted the cylinder strapped to her hip. “Weapons.”

The garden path opened up into a clearing. Directly
ahead
stood three easels holding
some sort of straw mat
s
. From the back, it was impossible to know what
,
for
certain
. But as they drew closer, Annabella could make out three more easels across the field and a red circle was evident in the center of
each coiled straw mat
.
Targets.

The young boy hurried up to them with the equipment the dowager had requested.

“
Thank you, Ernest.
”

The dowager slid the bow she was carrying over her head and then settled it over her right shoulder, letting the string fall across her chest and the bow rest against her back. She then took the black glove from the boy
,
slipped it over Annabella
’
s right hand
,
and laced it up.

It covered her palm almost to her elbow, leaving her fingers exposed. She noticed that the
dowager
already had a similar piece of leather affixed to her hand. Once the glove was secured, the dowager took the bow and cylinder form Ernest and handed it to Annabella. She then pulled the bow back over her head and moved to stand directly between two of the targets.

“
Idle threats are no way to get what you want.
”
The arrow barely scraped against the side of case on the dowager
’
s hip as she slid it out.
“
But when a man knows you
’
re capable of causing him bodily harm—
”
She held the arrow in front of her and
sighted
along the edge and then placed it on the bow and pulled back, letting go. The arrow flew through the air in a perfect arc and hit the target across the field square in the center. The dowager smiled.
“
—he will be completely at your mercy.
”

Bodily harm? At my mercy?
Annabella didn
’
t know whethe
r to be horrified or impressed.
Surely the dowager wasn
’
t implying that s
he shoot Seabrook with an arrow!
Throwing a vase or a candelabra at him was one thing. But she didn
’
t
truly
want to do him harm.
She
’
d even been glad the gun hadn
’
t gone off when she
pulled the trigger. Mostly.

She froze, her breath caught in her throat. Where had
that
thought come from?

“
Ernest, be a dear and move these three targets in…
”
The dowager took several steps forward, moving about halfway between the targets on the other side.
“
…to about right here.
”

The young boy got to work taking the straw mats off the bases.

“
Well don
’
t just stand there, Frenchie. Bring yourself over here.
”

“
You don
’
t have to—
”
Annabella sighed.
—be insulting about it
. Yes… she did, given the way she
’
d be
en provoked.

Frowning, Annabella joined the dowager, careful not to step on one of the cats weaving around her skirt. The marmalade striped male
,
who had
apparently
taken a fancy to her, leaned against her leg and rubbed with his round face.
Get away.
Anna
bella furtively pushed at him with her foot, but he wouldn
’
t budge. She glared at the cat, but he paid no attention.

The dowager cleared her throat.

Annabella
shifted
and forced a tight smile as she stared at the lethal appearing arrows in the case. Mother would never have approved of such an activity.
E
xcitement surprised Annabella, creeping along her forearms with tiny quivers as she considered the prospect of learning to shoot a bow and arrow.

The
dowager
slipped the bow back over her head, pulled another arrow from the container at her side, and then stepped behind Annabella. She repositioned Annabella
’
s hand on the bow.
“
Straighten your arm and keep it as high as your shoulder. That
’
s it. Now take this arrow. See that little crease on the end? Slide the bowstring right in there.
”
The dowager helped guide Annabella
’
s hand.
“
Well done! Hold your fingers just like that. Now keep your bow arm straight and pull back the arrow. Let go!
”

Annabella jumped and released both hands, letting the bow and arrow fall t
o the ground, but not before the string snapped on her fingers.
“
Oh!
”
She rubbed her hand.

Felines leapt and scattered and then collectively scurried back along the path.
The little marmalade sent her narrow-eyed glance over his shoulder.

Annabella suppres
sed a smug smile.
At least I scared those annoying cats away.
She glanced at the
dowager
.
“
Sorry.
”

The dowager put her hands on her hips.
“
I have my work cut out for me. Pick up your
weapon
.
”

Hurrying
to
obey
the command, Annabella scooped up the bow and arrow
.
“
Perhaps I
’
m not quite suited for archery.
”

“
Nonsense. If you can throw a gun, you can shoot an arrow.
”

Annabella
’
s face went up in flames at the reminder of how she
’
d behaved. Her mother would be mortified, would have lectured her for hours over such unladylike behavior. She stole a glance at the dowager.
Apparently
not Jon
’
s gran.

Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to please the dowager. She positioned the arrow and, with guidance from the
older woman’s steady hands
, pulled back on the string.

“
S
teady, steady. This time only release the
arrow
.
”

Annabella did as instructed. The arrow sailed straight up in the air, made a small arch, and landed on the ground quite a distance from the target. Her heart sank with it. How she
’
d wanted the dowager to be pleased.

The dowager patted her hand.
“
Don
’
t fret, my dear. You have a good strong arm. You
’
ll be hitting the target in no time. Now, collect another arrow and try it again. This time, don
’
t just shoot willy-nilly.
”
She again guided Annabella
’
s arms and hands with her own.
“
Bring the bow up and position the arrow so you can let your eye follow it out until you see the target in line with the head. Make sure you see the target before you release.
”

Annabella squinted into the distance. The red circle floated in and out of her vision. Holding her breath, she squinted harder.

The dowager tapped her on the shoulder.
“
Open your eyes! How do you expect to see what you
’
re shooting if you squint like that?
”

Startled, Annabella opened her eyes wide. Instantly, the target filled her vision. She let go. The arrow spiraled toward the target, hitting it at the top and to the left before bouncing back to the ground.

“
I hit it! I hit the target!
”
A surge of excitement and surprise had her body tingling. The thrill
brought on a squeal of
delight.