“Excellent,” Theo muttered. “Do ensure I am shot uphill, will you? I should prefer to be mourned from a flattering elevation.”
“I shall see to it,” Jasper said evenly, moving to adjust the fall of Theo’s coat. “If you are to perish this morning, Langley, you may at least do so with your hemline in proper alignment.”
“Thank you. That shall no doubt be of great comfort when the ball lodges itself in my lungs.”
Across the clearing, Benedict Tolliver stood with the rigid bearing of a man prepared for war. At his side, Cousin Horatio was pacing the ground as though he were a clergyman measuring out a grave.
“Tolliver looks as though he’s preparing to storm Badajoz,” Theo observed.
Jasper followed his gaze. “Do you believe he truly means to shoot you?”
“Oh, I hardly think he rose before dawn to take in the scenery.”
“Mm.” Jasper said mildly. “Perhaps he will aim for the shoulder. Something painful, certainly, but not altogether fatal.”
“He has five younger sisters and a loaded pistol. I daresay he is aiming for something deeply symbolic.”
“That reminds me – I have been meaning to ask you to make the proper introductions. If you survive the morning, of course. Who knows – perhaps I shall end up as your brother, after all.”
Theo cast him a withering look. “Most of the Tolliver sisters still bite.”
“That only renders them more intriguing.”
“They have not yet been introduced to Society. One of them is three-and-ten.”
Jasper grimaced. “Ah. In that case, I withdraw the remark.”
“See that you do. If Tolliver doesn’t put a ball through me for kissing Hetty, he’ll most assuredly do so for so much as catching you looking sideways at the others when they make their come-outs.”
“I should vastly prefer not to be shot at all,” Jasper said lightly. “Which leads me to a novel notion: have you considered offering an apology? I understand it occasionally yields results.”
“I did consider it. Briefly,” Theo replied. “But then I recalled Hetty’s expression when I implied she had been enjoying herself, and concluded that death might, on balance, be the simpler outcome.”
Jasper studied him for a long moment. “You are exceedingly fond of her.”
Theo turned away, pretending to adjust the set of his coat. “We are here for pistols, not confessions.”
“That is not a denial.”
“Nor is this a sermon. Shall we proceed with this farce?”
Jasper offered a languid shrug. “As you wish. But if he manages to shoot you somewhere… significant, I must entreat you not to bleed upon me. This waistcoat is new.”
A discreet figure loitered just beyond the rise of the hill – a physician, engaged for the morning’s business and generously compensated for his silence. He was presently feigning an absorbing interest in the bark of a nearby elm.
Across the clearing, Horatio raised one gloved hand with great solemnity. “Gentlemen, are you prepared?”
“Not in the least,” Theo muttered, as Jasper pressed the pistol into his hand.
“Take your places!”
Theo stepped forwards, his boots squelching in the damp grass and positioned himself back-to-back with Benedict.
“Pace!” came Horatio’s cry.
They had scarcely taken two steps when a sharp snap echoed across the field, followed, almost at once, by a muffled but entirely discernible: “Bugger!”
Theo halted mid-stride. “Did anyone else hear – ?”
