Page 33 of A Troublesome Circumstance

Josephine paused, her heart tightening with a strange mixture of admiration and curiosity. Who was this man—truly? A gamekeeper, yes, but his bearing spoke of something far greater. Perhaps it was merely her imagination playing tricks on her.

Jude stepped forward and bowed. “Thank you for joining me.”

Josephine dropped into a curtsy, trying to appear composed despite the flutter in her chest. “But of course. I find that I am rather anxious for a shooting lesson.”

A smile touched his mouth, faint but warm. “Then let us begin.”

He turned towards the table where several pistols lay gleaming beside neat powder flasks and lead balls. Lifting one, he checked the priming, then raised it smoothly towards the row of targets some yards away.

“Thumb the hammer back gently,” he instructed. “Keep your wrist firm, your stance even. And breathe as you squeeze the trigger and not before.”

Crack!

The shot split the quiet morning air. Smoke curled around him like a gray ribbon before drifting away. Josephine startled at the suddenness of it—the smell of spent powder, the sharp sting in her ears.

When she glanced towards the target, she saw the mark almost perfectly centered.

Jude set the pistol down with calm precision. “Simple enough. Now, you try.”

Her heart gave an unsteady beat. Simple, he’d said. There was nothing simple about any of this. Still, she stepped forward. The pistol’s polished grip was cool and surprisingly heavy when she lifted it. Her fingers trembled slightly despite her best effort to appear at ease.

Thumb the hammer back, breathe, squeeze the trigger.

The click of the hammer echoed in her ears. She swallowed, held her breath, and⁠—

Crack!

The recoil jolted violently through her arm. The smell of black powder bit at her nose, and wisps of smoke rose, lazily twisting into the sky. Her ears rang, her hand stung, but she couldn’t help the small, incredulous smile tugging at her lips.

She had done it. She had fired a pistol.

Jude’s expression softened. “Well done.”

With a short, incredulous laugh, she replied, “Clearly, you require spectacles. I missed the target entirely.”

“It was your first attempt,” he countered. “No one begins as an expert.”

She set the pistol carefully back upon the table as one of the footmen stepped forward to reload it. “The recoil was much more than I anticipated.”

“A muff pistol won’t have so much,” Jude said. “Do you still have my mother’s?”

“I do,” she replied. “It’s in my bedchamber. I shall see that it’s returned to you at once.”

He lifted a hand to stop her. “That won’t be necessary. I’d prefer you keep it.”

She lifted her brows. “Are you quite sure? It belonged to your mother.”

“It did,” he admitted, “but I’d rather you have something to remember me by.”

The words, simple as they were, landed in her heart with unexpected weight. She looked up at him, momentarily robbed of breath. “Then I shall treasure it always.”

He chuckled softly. “It’s merely a muff pistol, my lady, but I’ll rest easier knowing you’re able to protect yourself, especially from Mr. Broderick.”

The very name turned her blood cold. “He is a horrid man,” she asserted. “I never understood why my brother chose to do business with him.”

Jude’s gaze darkened slightly. “I’m sure your brother had his reasons, but I doubt he’ll continue now after what Mr. Broderick has done.”

“I can only hope.” She shivered despite the sunlight. “He always unsettled me by the way he stared, how close he’d stand when speaking, and his vile breath.”