Page 34 of A Troublesome Circumstance

The footman stepped back, the pistols reloaded. Jude picked one up with practiced ease. “Watch again.”

He aimed, fired—crack!—and the bullet struck the center of the target.

Josephine was rather impressed. “How did you learn to shoot so well?”

A wistful look crossed his face. “Mr. Conklin taught me. He was the Duke of Ashmoore’s gamekeeper for as long as I can remember. He also taught me how to make rabbit stew.”

“Ah,” she teased, “then he is the man I have to thank for that particular delicacy.”

That earned the smile she had been hoping for. “He was a good man—the best of them, truly,” he said.

“And now you are continuing his legacy.”

The smile faded from his lips, replaced by a flicker of something unreadable. “Yes,” he murmured. “In a way.” Then gesturing towards the table, he added, “Your turn again.”

Josephine picked up the pistol once more. This time she held it more confidently, steadying her arm as she lifted it towards the target.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” Jude said quietly, stepping closer.

She could feel the warmth of him now, the faint scent of orange and leather clinging to his person. Her pulse quickened traitorously. It wasn’t the pistol that made her hands shake—it was him.

“When you are ready,” he murmured, his breath brushing her ear, “squeeze the trigger.”

Right. Shooting. That was what she was meant to be doing—not behaving like some lovestruck debutante in a garden’s folly.

She forced herself to focus on the target and fired.

Crack!

The ball struck the very edge of the outer ring. Not perfect, but far better than before.

Jude smiled in quiet approval. “You’re improving.”

She turned towards him, and instantly regretted it since they were only inches apart. “It is only because I have an excellent teacher,” she managed to say.

His eyes—so brown, so steady, so uniquely his—held hers captive. There was warmth in them, and a gentleness that unnerved her far more than any gunshot could.

“Or perhaps,” Jude said, his voice dropping to something almost intimate, “you’ve always had the skill but only needed a bit of confidence.”

Her breath caught. The space between them seemed to shrink to nothing at all and her heart began to hammer so loudly she feared he might hear it.

If he just leaned closer⁠—

“Pardon me for interrupting… whatever this is,” came a familiar voice, lilting with amusement, “but I was hoping Josephine might join me for some tea in the drawing room.”

Josephine startled, her head snapping towards the sound.

Charlotte stood several yards away, her gloved hands clasped before her, though her eyes gleamed with unmistakable mirth. Beside her stood her husband, Lord Luca, whose expression—half-smirk, half-resignation—suggested he, too, understood precisely what they had walked up on.

“Charlotte,” Josephine said, mortified, her cheeks burning as if the sun itself had descended upon her.

Jude stepped back at once and bowed stiffly. “My lord. My lady.”

Charlotte waved a hand airily. “Oh, do not mind me. I only thought poor Josephine might wish for some refreshment. It appears she has been… rather busy this morning.”

Josephine could have sunk through the ground. “Tea would be lovely,” she said hastily, trying to compose herself.

“Wonderful,” Charlotte responded. “Come along, then. My husband needs to speak with Jude about—what was it, dear? Ah yes—gamekeeper things.”