Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

When the generals of each bamboozling party announced a shooting match, their troops caught the scheme up with enthusiasm, and the rest of the day was spent in preparation for the event.

The ladies painted targets made of round flat pieces of wood fitted to posts to be driven into the ground. The men inspected and tested the hunting rifles. Word spread quickly through the rest of the house that Mr. Morley had provoked Lady Ramsbury into her outlandish ways again, and the next day, as she and Basil took their places, several servants stopped their work to peer out of windows or watch from the parapet and stairs at the back of the house.

All the guests were in attendance. Mrs. Browning and Mrs. Owens stood fanning themselves and shaking their heads from under their parasols over Evangeline's daring. Lord Malden and Lord Lyndhurst were heading up the betting. The odds were slightly in Basil's favor until a servant brought out a glass of Lord Fernsby's stiffest brandy. Sir Michael, rolling his eyes as Basil tossed off the amber liquid, changed his wager to Evangeline's victory. If he had been aware of Evangeline's inner state, he might not have acted so hastily.

Evangeline had shot a gun plenty of times before, had won playful shooting matches against men and women alike, but when she took the rifle in her hands, her grip was weak from nerves. Her arms felt as stable as head cheese jelly. She had never played for such stakes before. She must win this match.

Basil beside her looked as calm and carefree as you please. Did he not have any qualms about their stakes? He looked too sure of himself, with that swaggering step of his. She had never been afraid of him, but now, as they took their places while Mr. Stratham called out the rules, a heavy, quaking shawl of apprehensiveness shrouded her shoulders. As good a friend as Basil was, she could not let him have control over her, not even for a moment. Why had she agreed to such stakes? Curse her pride.

"Need a practice shot before we begin?" Basil asked.

Evangeline knew he expected her to scoff at the idea, but with the tumult of nerves going on in her stomach and the weakness in her arms, she needed to be sure.

"Thank you, I shall," she replied as playfully as she could.

Basil's brows went up, but he took it in good part and made way for her. She stepped up to the marker, a stick with several ribbons tied to it, and took a deep breath, focusing on her target, a painted scene of Orpheus and Eurydice in the Underworld, forty paces away.

Forty paces? What had made her suggest such a distance? There was no help for it now. She steadied herself, took careful aim, and fired.

She waved the smoke away and looked at the target. A decent shot just to the right of center. She handed her gun to the awaiting servant to reload while the others applauded.

"Looks like I'm in for it," Basil murmured to Mr. Stratham next to him.

"You knew that going in," Evangeline quipped. Relief trickled through her at the shot. She could do this. She could win. "Will you take one, Mr. Morley?"

"Why not?"

Basil frowned as he stepped up beside her, giving a pensive hum while he looked at his target, a hastily put together scene of Hercules and the hydra. "I rather prefer Puck to Mr. Morley, Titania," he said in a low voice as he readied his fowling piece.

Evangeline did not dignify this statement with a response, thinking silence the best course to maintain her nerves. Basil took aim and squeezed his trigger. Both squinted at the target as the smoke dissipated. Evangeline allowed herself a smug smile.

Basil leaned forward and put a hand up to shade his eyes. "Can't have been that far off," he said. "I must have caught a piece of it."

The two servants ran down the lawn. They bent over Basil's target before one of them straightened and shook his head. "No mark, my lord," he reported to Lord Fernsby.

The audience chuckled and Basil was instantly hazed by the men, which he shrugged off with a smile. "Just a practice shot," he assured the others. "One never knows what may happen with three shots that count."

The match was called to order by Mr. Stratham. Each opponent would alternately shoot. The shooter with the most holes in their target, closest to the center, would be declared the winner.

"Ladies first," Basil said with a sweep of his arm.

The ball of nerves still quivered in Evangeline's stomach. She took her place, lifted the gun to her shoulder and adjusted her position to her liking. I am a good shot, she said to herself. Basil will not kiss me, I will kiss him! I can shoot, I can shoot.

She focused on the target. Once satisfied with her aim, she slowly let out all her breath before squeezing the trigger.

Little splinters of wood flew into the air as the bullet sailed through Orpheus's stomach, just under the center of the wooden disk.

Cheers from the younger ladies overpowered the applause of the rest of the party. Evangeline straightened her head and threw an arched brow Basil's way, her confidence restored.

Basil nodded appreciatively. "I knew I was in trouble."

He positioned himself in front of his target. He did not take as long to aim as Evangeline, but when he fired, his went straight through Hercules's shield. A good shot.

Everyone fell silent for a moment before the men cheered with surprise, many giving each other impressed frowns.

"Morley, my man, I have never seen you aim so straight," Lord Fernsby said.

Basil grimaced. "That is because stationary pieces of wood are much easier prey than flying birds. Never could shoot a moving object to save my life."

"You do not think our victory is in danger, do you?" Miss Elmsworth asked the other women.

"No, certainly not," Miss Hall replied.

"Indeed," Miss Owens said. "Lady Ramsbury will see Mr. Morley properly conquered."

More than one guest sniggered and threw each other a knowing look at Miss Owens's words. Evangeline chuckled inwardly at the girl's innocence. Likely she had no idea what the others had taken her words to mean.

"Yes, conquer me, Titania, I beg," Basil murmured in her ear as she took aim once more. His breath tickled her neck, sending chills down her back.

"Oh, shut up, do," she bit back.

Her second shot was not as good as the first, but still hit the target. Basil only nicked his. As they prepared for the final round, Evangeline knew she would win. Even at forty paces she was sure to hit her mark one more time. Yes, she would win. She would kiss Basil.

She would remain in control.

She stole a glance at him before looking down to the target. He returned her look with a jovial eye and curved lips. "I cannot decide which I want more. For you to win, or for you to lose," he murmured.

An image of Basil's face leaning down to hers, lips parted, his finger raising her chin ever so slightly...

She knew the shot was no good as soon as she squeezed the trigger. Her target remained untouched.

A chorus of disappointed moans swept over their audience. Basil stared down at the target, thunderstruck. "I say, E."

Evangeline only shook her head. "You're up, Mr. Morley."

Calls of encouragement came from the men while the ladies did their best to harry them with their parasols and fans until being called to order by their elders. Still looking at Evangeline, Basil stepped up to his mark. He held her eye a moment longer before taking aim. A loud report, and daylight shone through a hole where one of the hydra's heads had been.

The cheers that erupted from the men were drowned out by a rushing sound in Evangeline's ears. She had lost.

Lost the match, lost the wager.

Lost control.

Basil came up to her and gently removed the gun from her hands, giving it to the servant. "You are as surprised as I am?" he asked.

Evangeline brought her expression to order. There were too many people about for her to show her disappointment in herself. To them, the shooting match was only a means of stopping the tiresome pranks. They did not know higher stakes had been in play.

"And…our wager?" Evangeline asked.

"Later," he said. "Perhaps after tea?"

"Where?"

"Shall we say the rose garden."

Evangeline nodded in her most business-like manner. "The rose garden."

Evangeline could not remember a time she had felt so jumpy. It was all she could do to remain calm as she oversaw tea later that afternoon. The knowledge that in an hour's time she would meet Basil amongst fountains of flowers and that he would claim the spoils of victory sent fluttery nerves pulsing through her heart every time she glanced at the clock.

Basil was present at tea, of course. Evangeline did not look at him too much but marveled at how easy his manner was. He did not look nervous, sitting there as cool as you please, eating his cucumber sandwiches and scones that would make her stomach turn if she tried to eat. Was he not excited that she was finally allowing him to kiss her? Did he have certain expectations, certain hopes accompanying the kiss? Would he compare her to the other women he had kissed over the years?

The words of Mrs. Browning and Mrs. Owens on the first evening shoved their way into her mind. He had been seen with a woman, and recently. Evangeline did not care to think how many women Basil could kiss without any wager involved. He had charm and experience in abundance to gain affection wherever he chose amongst the women he dealt with. But Evangeline had not been kissed, had hardly been touched by a man in over five years. Was their wager just to be another notch in the long line of Basil's conquests?

Serious thoughts of denying Basil his winnings and calling the whole thing off pleaded their case in her mind. She did not wish to boost Basil's fine opinion of himself, or any man's, for that matter, by allowing him access to her. She was not a lady who gave her affections willy-nilly, pell-mell. There had to be purpose behind it. Sincerity.

The image of Basil leaning in close, his breath gently playing against her face before his soft lips (would they be soft? She felt they must be soft) press against hers made Evangeline take in a sudden, sharp breath.

"Are you well, Lady Ramsbury?"

Miss Owens's concerned voice disrupted Evangeline's thoughts. "Yes, thank you, my dear," she replied and gave no further explanation.

Tea was soon finished, and guests broke off in groups to walk the grounds, play billiards, take a drive or ride, play croquet, anything Lord and Lady Fernsby could provide, to be used at their leisure.

Caught up in conversation with the other ladies a few minutes longer, Evangeline did not see Basil leave the room. Would he go straight to the rose garden? Would he be waiting, pacing with anticipation? Or would she find him sitting on the rustic bench, swinging a careless leg as if kissing her was nothing but everyday common fare?

With each step taking her closer to the garden, Evangeline kicked herself more and more for ever agreeing to such a fantastic, outrageous wager.

She was Lady Ramsbury, the abnormal, untouchable widow who rejected all suits brought before her. So devoted to her children that she did not have time to think of marriage, much less of love, for she had so much love about her already. No man had had the privilege of going further than a kiss on her hand, or a peck on her cheek if they were family. Yet here she was, on her way to allow a man to kiss her wherever he chose. She quickened her steps with fretful anticipation.

The delicious smell of the rose garden met her senses and danced about her well before she entered it. She passed under an arching trellis completely covered in climbing roses of pink and white as she walked the narrow lane that was hedged in on either side by blooms of several varieties, from cheery yellows and chaste whites to fairy-like pinks and passionate reds. The walk opened into a small circular lawn, a tall marble statue in the center that looked to be Persephone.

She stopped at the statue and looked about her. Basil was nowhere in sight. Curious. He had certainly left the room before she had. Where was he?

"Basil—" she began but immediately stopped herself, for right as she opened her mouth, her ears picked up voices conversing distantly. There were others roaming the gardens.

Her heartbeat quickened. She had to get this kiss over with before someone took it into their heads to come admire the roses. Why had Basil chosen such a beautiful place to kiss her? It was a favorite, well-used walk. Where was he?

A suspicion seized her. "Puck," she whispered fiercely. "If you think to jump out and frighten me, rid yourself of the notion at once."

She waited for a tell-tale chuckle to disclose his location but heard nothing. Narrowing her eyes, she scanned the rose bushes and manicured cypress trees. Still no sign of him, but she refused to believe her eyes. "Basil, I know you are here somewhere. Enough games. Come out and kiss me and have done with it."

"If I'd any notion of your eagerness, my darling, I would not have delayed for an instant."

Evangeline whipped her head around. Basil stood at the entrance to the garden appearing at once perplexed and extremely amused. He looked so handsome with that smile playing on his lips that, with the knowledge of what he was about to do, her heart summersaulted in her chest.

Annoyance at her reaction instantly replaced any other sensation regarding his attractiveness. "There you are. Do keep your voice down. There are people about."

Basil lifted his hands and hunched his shoulders. "Very well, very well."

"I wish you did not choose such an open place."

He sighed and walked forward. The movement sent Evangeline's knees trembling. What was wrong with her? Was it fear or anticipation? She could not tell.

"That is the thanks I get for trying to put propriety first? Tush, tush, Titania. I thought you would appreciate the effort. We could always repair to a more…secluded place…"

He looked her, his brow furrowing. Evangeline was properly shaking from head to foot now. He reached out and took her hand in his, all traces of amusement disappearing from his face. "But you are Lady Ramsbury, Countess of Sherbourne, and so long as you are, I would never ask that of you."

Sincerity saturated his voice, assuring Evangeline of what she already knew, deep inside. Basil would never hurt her. He would never press anything on her that would truly cause her distress. So why was she humming with such frantic energy?

She shook her head to dispel her frozen state. "Thank you, you are very kind. Now, shall we get this absurd wager out of the way?"

Basil hesitated, still studying her. "Only if you are agreeable. One word and it will be as if our wager never happened."

There it was. He had given her complete control of the situation. A way out. She could not deny that to say her favorite word was tempting. She had said it to him plenty of times before.

Have you never wondered?

"It—it is all right," she finally said. "I have a debt that I willingly incurred. You may take you winnings."

With that, she tilted her head up, closed her eyes, and tried to relax her mouth. Her legs and hands were trembling only a little now. Her tense jaw, she could do nothing about. The grass crinkled under Basil's boot as he took a step closer.

Seconds passed with nothing touching her lips but the warm summer air. More time ticked by in her head. Still nothing.

She peeped one eye open. Basil's face was inches from hers, his gaze trained on her lips with an expression which she could not immediately identify, for she had never seen such a look from him. Tenderness, concern…longing? Or wa s he having seconds thoughts? Perhaps finally having leave to kiss her was not as exciting as he had thought?

His eyes lifted to meet hers. She looked an inquiry back at him as a sudden, insecure blush crept up her neck and into her cheeks.

He held her gaze a moment more before he finally spoke. "I believe the wager was, the loser must suffer a kiss from the winner anywhere the winner chooses. And who said anything about your lips?"

Evangeline's lips parted as she took in his words. She had forgotten that part. "I suppose I just naturally assumed…"

She trailed off. Basil smiled faintly before lifting her hand. One by one he tugged at the fingers of her glove, but slowly, ensuring she felt each touch of his hand against hers. When it was loose enough, he pinched the tip of one finger and slowly slipped the glove from her hand, his eyes never leaving her face.

He turned her hand back and forth between the two of his. She watched him, surprised at how warm his fingers were. Equally surprised was she that her skin craved more. More of his warmth, more of his touch.

At last, he raised her hand, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist, lingering as he breathed her in. Evangeline closed her eyes as well, taking in the sensation. She was right, his lips were soft.

"That scent," he murmured, taking in another breath. "I am glad it is your favorite. I have always liked it best too."

He drew back. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his. "There," he said. "Your debt of honor has been paid."

And none too soon, for voices, voices that had been drowned out by her heartbeat pounding in her ears, alerted her that she had mere seconds before other people would enter the rose garden.

Basil turned his head to the entrance, then back. "Cross over through there. Quick now."

He gave her an encouraging nudge toward a gap in the cypress trees.

"Thank you," she said.

"Do you know, I don't think I have ever been thanked for a kiss," he whispered.

"Oh, shut up. It wasn't for that," she said, ignoring his chuckle, though she could not ignore the tingling sensation that remained on her wrist.

"Wait, your glove."

Evangeline turned just in time for the glove, tossed by Basil, to hit her right in the face. "Much obliged," she muttered sarcastically before making good her escape.