A Matchmaking Mismatch (Romance Retold #3)

Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

R uth let the pistol drop, relieved at Oxley’s instruction to wait. She could feel the pistol shaking in her hands, and it embarrassed her. Who was she trying to deceive? She wasn’t brave or courageous. She was nothing but a fool dressed in gentlemen’s clothing.

“When I was young, my uncle taught me a couple of tricks to improve my accuracy. One is more dangerous than the other, so I will allow you to decide which you employ.” He stepped behind Ruth, and she felt her muscles go tight. “Here, raise the pistol again.” He reached around her, and the shaking that had affected her hand coursed up her arm and through her whole body. She clenched her eyes shut, mortified at the way her body was reacting to his proximity, when to Oxley, he was merely helping a friend avoid death. She tightened her jaw and opened her eyes, but what she really wanted was to turn around and bury her head in Oxley’s chest—to seek safety in his arms.

“The first method is to aim the pistol at something specific.” He moved closer, and Ruth could feel the warmth of his breath grazing the side of her neck. He had his own arm extended, his pointer finger raised so that it hovered in the air right next to her pistol. “Like the first branch on that tree. You must keep both eyes open. Are they open?”

She nodded, certain he could feel her body trembling.

“Very good. Now close your right eye.”

She obeyed, and the pistol appeared to shift to the left, moving away from the tree branch she had aimed for. She blinked in surprise.

“Now open both eyes.”

She complied, and the pistol moved back into its original position.

“Now close your left eye.”

She closed the eye, and the pistol stayed in its place, maintaining her desired target. She turned her head, smiling.

Oxley stepped to the side and smiled back at her. “Now you know which eye to close when you take aim. The second method presents you with a choice. You must decide which is more important to you: your safety or your accuracy. If you wish to do Munroe a harm—and I would be the last person to blame you for such a desire—you have a better chance of doing so by gripping the pistol with a second hand. It is not common in duels—it is frowned upon by many—but it will give you a much better chance of hitting Munroe. To do so, you must face your body forward, offering him a wider target.” He surveyed her. “Thankfully for you, you are not much wider head-on than in profile.”

“I am not overly concerned with hitting Munroe”—she smiled wryly—“I cannot think that there is much chance of that, even if I did wish it.” She bit the inside of her lip. “Do you think ill of me for it?”

Oxley’s brows came together, and he shook his head. “Not at all. I have great respect for you.” He put a hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eye. “I would not act as second for you if I did not, Ruth.”

She swallowed and managed a smile. He respected her. There was that, at least. But how much would he respect her if he knew the truth about her?

“Now show me your stance.”

She took in a breath and turned her body, letting the pistol hang at her side.

“Raise it.”

She obeyed, leveling it at the same oak tree, her left eye shut. Oxley came over, putting a hand on her arm. “It is better to bend the elbow slightly, while keeping your wrist tight and steady.”

She laughed nervously. “And if I am shaking like a blancmange ?”

Oxley smiled. “Then you are at least honest about it. Only the most hardened of men—or a liar—would conduct an affair of honor without such nerves.” He looked at her legs. Could he see them trembling? “You mustn’t bend your knees at all, for that is expressly forbidden in the code.”

She straightened, trying to keep in mind all of the things he had told her, then let out a frustrated breath. “And I have a mere second to ensure that my knees are straight, elbow bent, wrist locked, eye shut—” She blew an explosive breath through her lips.

Oxley let out a chuckle. “You will do just fine, especially after we practice more. Munroe has chosen a distance of ten paces, and Archer and I agreed that you will both fire on command. We will have a physician on hand to attend to any injuries. The physician is a personal friend of mine, and I assure you that he is very competent, should the need arise.”

Ruth nodded. “Thank you.” She didn’t know which frightened her more—the thought of requiring a physician or the thought of being past a physician’s help.

“Another thing before you fire any more shots.” Oxley took the pistol from her. “I will be the one loading it, and I think you shan’t have any issues, but in the event that it doesn’t fire straight away, keep it pointed at Munroe anyway. If the powder is damp, it can lead to a delay, and I have heard of men blowing off their own faces when they’ve attempted to inspect the reason for that delay.”

Ruth’s eyebrows flew up. “You fascinate me.”

He gave a commiserating grimace. “Rest assured, I will not load the pistol with anything but dry powder.”

“I trust you.” And she did.

Oxley put a hand on her shoulder and smiled bracingly. “Now, let us practice.”

A n hour later, Ruth and Oxley were back on their horses, riding toward Town, and Ruth couldn’t help looking around the world through different eyes. How had she never taken the time to appreciate the bird song that filled the woods? The rhythm of horse hooves on soft grass? The cracking twigs that punctuated the beats? She might never experience this again—an afternoon on horseback. She might never see her family again. She swallowed painfully and blinked rapidly, hoping Oxley didn’t notice.

Oxley. She might never see him again.

“I suppose there is a bright side to this affair,” she said, trying to pull herself out of such thoughts.

He looked a question at her.

“If I die tomorrow, you shall be two hundred pounds richer.” Her brows knit. “Perhaps that is only fair, for I have hardly any doubt that your suit with Miss Devenish is bound for success, and I suspect it has little to do with me.”

Oxley’s half-smile appeared. “Stop speaking nonsense, little fool. The two hundred pounds would go to Franks, of course. But that will not be necessary.” His voice was stern as he said it, and Ruth didn’t know whether he said it for his own benefit or for hers. “I admit that, at the time, it was satisfying to hear you put Munroe in his place. But I find a part of me wishing that you would have forgone the opportunity.”

“And proven myself a coward?”

Oxley glanced at her. “Perhaps the sentiment does me little credit, but I find I would prefer keeping a treasured friend alive, coward though he may be, to losing him in the name of bravery.”

Ruth’s eyes stung, and she busied herself with rearranging the reins. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

She said nothing. If she had truly cowered before Munroe, Oxley would have lost his respect for her, sure as anything. And that she couldn’t have borne. She would never have his love, but she wouldn’t jeopardize what she did have: his good opinion.

“I feel responsible,” Oxley said softly.

Ruth’s head whipped around. “Responsible?”

He shrugged. “You would not have ignited Munroe’s wrath had you not approached Miss Devenish in the Park that afternoon. And you did that for me.”

Ruth shook her head. “That was not your fault. It was my own silly notion. Besides,” she said, feigning resignation, “I am afraid it was only a matter of time before someone challenged me to a duel. It is my intimidating presence, you know. It threatens gentlemen.”

Oxley laughed, and seeing his mood lighten lifted her own spirits.

When they came to Brook Street, though, things took on a serious tone again.

“Would you like company this evening?” Oxley asked.

Ruth met his gaze, unsure. She had no desire to spend the rest of the evening contemplating the uncertainty of her future. She would go mad, left to herself. And she had no desire to tell Topher what was afoot. He would certainly do something foolish, and her family needed him too much for that. Topher wasn’t destined to live a hand-to-mouth existence. He would find a way to bring their family out of their current circumstances. He had always been enterprising.

Ruth wanted to spend the evening with someone who knew what she faced—and who could distract her from it like only Oxley could.

She nodded. “I would like that.”