“Half an inch more to the left!” another joked.
The crowd laughed, ease returning with Matthew’s relaxed nature.
“Allow me to try again.” He lifted the pistol. “Two!”
“Two!”gentlemen echoed, cackling and crowing.
The next shot hit the space to the left of Duke Kendall’s head and he let out a sharp cry. A drop of blood formed and dripped down the Duke’s right cheek. He shook fully now, the apple on the verge of falling off. For a moment, an awful thought crossed her mind.Good.Finally, he was the one afraid.
The demon could bleed.
Matthew waited with the pistol poised in the air. Seconds passed with his arm up, and he brought it back down to his side. Jasmine stopped breathing, her lungs bursting with the need for air. He was going to call it off. At anymoment—
Slowly, he turned his head in her direction. He seemed to look right through her. He pressed his fingertip to his cheekbone and tapped twice.
A kiss for luck.
Jasmine placed her trembling fingers to her lips, and blew him a kiss, praying it would make it to him in time.
He raised the pistol again.
“Three,” the crowd yelled in unison, drowning out his voice. He held his finger on the trigger. Time dragged. He drew in a breath.
And squeezed.
The apple exploded. Chunks of white fruit flew in every direction. Pulp sprayed across Duke Kendall’s face. He held his shaking hands in front of him, staring at his ruined gloves.
A beat of silence—then the crowd erupted. They pointed and laughed, their cheers rising into the night. Jasmine stared in shock as Matthew removed his blindfold. He sauntered forward and placed the pistol in Duke Kendall’s hands.
“Another trophy for your wall, Your Grace. Such a shame we used all of the rounds. You’ll need to get them from me in the future, seeing as I’m theonly onewho makes them.”
Matthew dropped the empty cartridges at Duke Kendall’s feet, and wiped splattered apple from Duke Kendall’s neck with one fingertip.
“You’ll hang for this, Lord Lincolnshire! I will telleveryonewhat type of man you are.”
A woman’s voice yelled from the double doors.
“Has everyone had quite enough?!” Lady Ravenshaw seethed. “You dare enact such violence in front of civilized society!”
“A practiced event, Lady Ravenshaw.” Matthew raised his hands. “Duke Kendall knew the risk. He was never in any real danger.”
“Andyou!” Lady Ravenshaw pointed a finger at Duke Kendall. “You should be ashamed of yourself for such vulgarity! It is in poor taste, especially when my fiancé has been recovering from a mugging in this very mansion all week!” She directed her gaze at the ballroom. “Is that not right, Lord Rothwell?!”
With his arm in a sling, and a fresh bruise around his eye, Lord Rothwell limped forward, keeping his face down. “It’s true.”
Jasmine covered her mouth and fought back a sob.
“A mugging?!” a high-pitched lady’s voice shrieked, echoed through the crowd as if each woman had heard it first.
“Last Saturday evening,” Lady Ravenshaw cried, holding her hand to her heart. “I was terrified for his life, but Lord Lincolnshire brought him here to safety.” Tears streamed down her face, but steel glinted in her eyes when she glared at Duke Kendall. “It’s a shame the knave got away with it.”
Duke Kendall gritted out. “Howdareyou—”
“His Grace has been kind to us, but this I will not tolerate. Ladies at gunpoint. Gentlemen acting like animals,” she continued, her voice rising above Duke Kendall’s protests. “Birthday or no, Duke Kendall’s actions have been atrocious this evening. I will no longer allow my fiancé to stay here.”
She delicately wiped a tear from her eye and flicked it onto the grass. Determined, she strode back into the mansion, tugging Lord Rothwell violently behind her.
Duke Kendall stood frozen to the spot.
