Page 13 of The Dandy Lyon

“Found a gentleman to fall in love with.” Marcus held his breath.

She gazed at him carefully before replying, “That remains to be seen, sir.”

“I ask,” he tried his best to speak nonchalantly, “because I noticed you having a spirited conversation with Lord Wisbech over dinner.”

“Oh, yes, Lord Wisbech.” Lady Joanna giggled. “I’m afraid I was having him on rather, and he didn’t take it very well.”

“What did you say that so offended him?” Marcus was more than curious about their conversation, which he had marked even as he spoke attentively with Lady Marchand, all the while ignoring her blatant attempts to flirt with him. He’d learned early on to leave married women strictly alone. Why risk a duel or worse a knife in the back in a dark alley just for a dalliance with a woman who was no better than she should be—and often quite unremarkable in bed. When he needed a woman’s companionship, he was more than willing to pay handsomely for it.

“I suggested that ladies should be allowed to shoot if they desired to.” Lady Joanna sipped her tea, her gaze fixed firmly on his face. As though this were a test she was eager to discover if he could pass.

“Most gentlemen would be outraged at such a suggestion, my lady.” Marcus smiled, on firm footing at last. “Your brother included, I daresay. I, however, am not.”

“You see no reason ladies shouldn’t be allowed to shoot grouse?” The lady’s cup rattled into its saucer as she leaned toward him, astonishment all over her face.

“Certainly not. I would venture to suggest, however, that there are few ladies who would actually desire to traipse about the fields killing birds in huge quantities with only gentlemen for company.” Marcus could think of so many more pleasant ways to spend a day with a beautiful woman, but if Lady Joanna wished to shoot grouse, that told him something very interesting about her. Very interesting indeed.

“Perhaps not, but those who wish to do so should be allowed.” A peeved look passed over her pretty face. “I believe the gentlemen simply would be terribly embarrassed to be outgunned by a woman.”

Chuckling, Marcus nodded, delighted to have found a topic that revealed so much about the lady. “You are likely correct. There are few gentlemen who take it well when another man bags more birds than they do, much less a woman.” He paused, then met her gaze. “Would you join us tomorrow if Society allowed it?”

The lady shrugged. “I would have to learn how to shoot first, of course. I’ve never even held a gun in my life.”

“I could teach you, if you like.”

Her big blue eyes grew impossibly wider. “You would teach me how to shoot a rifle?”

“Well, I would begin by teaching you how to shoot a flintlock pistol. You’ve received such a thorough education on the internal workings from Mr. Newcastle, I think that would be the best course.” Marcus smiled at her confounded countenance. “Once you’re a proficient shot with the smaller weapon, we could move on to a larger one.”

“Are you having me on, Mr. Dandridge?” Lady Joanna knit her brows in a most charming way. “I find it hard to believe that you would offer such instruction so readily. It is not something any gentleman of my acquaintance would agree to do, I fear.”

“Perhaps then my not being a gentleman—at least by birth—will be helpful to you, my lady. I believe you quite capable of learning the skill.” Marcus sat back in the chair once more. He believed the lady capable of doing anything she set her mind to. “However, I will ask Lord Braeton’s permission before we proceed. In the absence of your brother, I must treat him as your guardian, and I promised him I would abide by his rules.”

“Oh, Thomas will not forbid you to teach me to shoot.” Lady Joanna’s face was sunny once more. “He is not nearly so high in the instep as Geoffrey.” She set her teacup down and leaned eagerly toward him, making Marcus’s heart beat so hard, it was painful. “Shall we begin my lessons tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is the shoot, my lady.” Marcus bit back a smile at her impatience. “But the next day I believe we can make a start. If his lordship agrees.”

“As I am certain he will.” The lady’s excitement was infectious to the point Marcus bitterly regretted that they could not begin the very next day.

Patience was not a virtue he cared to practice on a regular basis, but perhaps he could mitigate the blow somewhat. “Will you come to the shooting breakfast?”

“Oh, yes. It’s the only way we ladies can participate in the festivities of the Glorious Twelfth.” Lady Joanna made a perturbed face and Marcus bit back a laugh.

“Then may I request your company during the breakfast? I can begin to tell you what to expect in your lesson.” He was certain such an enticement could not be ignored.

“With pleasure, Mr. Dandridge.” Her eyes sparkled with a promise Marcus could scarcely believe. “It will be my absolute pleasure.”

Chapter Seven

The wagonette carrying Joanna and five other ladies of the house party rolled slowly up the steep pathway toward the tent that had been erected in a clearing not far from the fields where the gentlemen had been shooting red grouse since the break of day. A faint pall of smoke in the distance and the sound of sporadic shots attested to their enjoyment of the sport.

Joanna looked around eagerly for signs that the gentlemen would soon arrive. Unfortunately, the only activity to meet her gaze were the servants putting the finishing touches on the glittering tables laid with the best china and silver. The wagonette came to a halt and with a sigh, Joanna clambered down.

The shooting breakfast—a glorious picnic for both ladies and gentlemen—was one of the highlights of the week that Joanna always looked forward to. The location never varied from year to year and she’d come to cherish the scenic beauty that surrounded the breakfast as the Scottish hillsides were awash with stunning purple heather in full bloom. Later this week, she’d ride up into the hills and gather as much of it as she wished to make sachets for the coming year. Her clothing and linen were ever scented with the fragrant smell so she could recall the beauty of the landscape even in the dead of winter in Middlesex.

“Come, Joanna.” Honoria, standing beside the head table, beckoned to her. “Your place is here beside Thomas and me.”

“Where is Mr. Dandridge to sit?” Joanna peered at her friend suspiciously. “Last evening he asked for my company today.” If they were to sit according to protocol, that gentleman’s ranking status was such that she supposed he’d be at the table farthest from theirs. If it wouldn’t have been incredibly rude, she suspected he would be seated outside the tent completely.