The Lady Hellion Read Online Free PDF

listening to me?” he asked sharply. When she nodded, he lifted a skeptical brow. “What can cause the pistol to misfire, then?”
    “A dull flint, soft frizzen, weak springs, over-primed pan, clogged touch-hole,” she recited none too smugly. “Anything else?”
    “Let’s see you load it,” he said by way of answer.
    She did so quickly, efficiently, and then looked to him for confirmation. He nodded in approval and she grinned, inordinately pleased with herself. “Are we finally ready to practice?” she asked.
    “Anxious, are you?”
    “Well, I must return home before someone notices I’m missing. Otherwise, you’ll be putting these pistols to use when my father requests your presence at dawn.”
    “Fair enough. Switch yours for the empty one.” He strode to the center of the room.
    She didn’t bother switching pistols. It wasn’t as if she would shoot him. “Wait. Should you not take one as well?”
    “No. I’ll pretend,” he said, flexing his fingers. She’d noticed him doing that motion a few times, especially since she’d started handling the guns. A nervous habit?
    “Your challenger decides the distance,” he explained. “Ten paces is common, though I’ve heard of six or eight. The seconds will mark it off. Take your position.”
    She stepped off ten paces then turned to face him. “Here?”
    “Good. Once you’re both ready, you’ll be given a signal after which you’ll have three seconds to fire.”
    “And I should aim for . . . ?”
    “The extremities. Shoulder. Arm. You do not want a death on your hands or your conscience.”
    Hard to argue there. “What happens if both parties miss?”
    “Then your challenger must decide if his honor is satisfied or not.”
    She examined the pistol in her hand. It really was quite pretty, with its gold accents and pearl handle. The wood was smooth and polished. “Have you ever engaged in a duel?”
    He made a sound. “Absolutely not. It’s barbarism. I bought those to examine how they work, to see how Manton improved upon the design.”
    “But you’ve attended a duel, surely?”
    “Two. Both Colton’s, when he was still too young and stubborn to see reason. Sort of like someone else I know.”
    She ignored that. “What room is directly below us?”
    Quint’s brow lowered as he considered the question. “The wine cellar, as I recall. But—”
    Sophie squeezed the trigger as he’d taught her, the barrel pointed at the floor. The flint swung down, struck the frizzen, sparked, and the pistol went off with a loud crack. A puff of acrid smoke encircled her and she wobbled from the surprising kick of the shot. Exhilaration coursed through her, a heady mix of relief, power, and awe. “Gads, that was fun!”
    Using her free hand, she batted the smoke. “May I—Quint, whatever is wrong?”
    He stood frozen, his pallor gone the color of fresh snow. His chest heaved as he stared at the pistol in her hand. “Quint?” She came closer and noticed his hands were shaking. “I apologize for firing. I could not resist—”
    “Get out.”
    She blinked. Had he said—?
    “Now, Sophie. Get out of my house and do not come back. Go! ” The last word was nearly a roar, a shocking tenor of voice from a normally soft-spoken man.
    Stunned into obeying, she hurriedly replaced the pistol in its case and found her cloak. He now faced the wall, away from her, his head clasped tightly in his hands as if he was in pain. She started to apologize once more, but thought better of agitating him further.
    “ Leave! ” he rasped, and she bolted into the corridor, closing the door softly behind her.
    Instead of leaving, however, curiosity and concern had her pressing her ear to the wood. A fast, rhythmic huffing sounded from inside the study. Was he wheezing? Heavens, perhaps he was ill. After ensuring no servants hovered nearby, she ever so slowly turned the latch and cracked the door.
    He hadn’t moved, except to reach out and brace himself on a chair back. She