“May I speak with you, Theo?” Adeline’s crossed arms did not bode well. “In private?”
“Of course.” Theo had little option but to follow Adeline as she paced away from Georgie. Coming to a stop, Theo crossed her arms—prepared to do battle with Adeline, as had been the case many times in the past. “What have you to discuss?”
“Why did you lead my brother here?” The venom in her voices cut and her eyes narrowed on Theo. She was caught in the trap that was Adeline’s fury. “I specifically told you not to come. To remain home and I would send word when the day was done.”
“Alistair came looking for you—I was worried.” It was true; however, Theo was far more anxious about Georgie. Adeline was callous enough to take care of herself. “I wanted to warn you. That is all—I promise I had no intention of him following me to Whitechapel.”
“I should have known better than to think you would not ruin everything.” Adeline adjusted her hood and pivoted to re-join Georgie, stopping at her side.
Theo bit her tongue to stop the retort that would only cause Adeline’s vexation to increase. If Theo hadn’t come, their chances of winning the purse prize would have been almost zero.
Both women remained silent as another archer released his arrow.
It had been a great risk for Theo to take Georgie’s position in the tourney, but one she was unwilling to dwell upon until after she’d won. The repercussions could be severe or, with any luck, no one was present who recognized her—besides Mr. Price.
Her arm still ached from where the unknown man had grabbed her, but Theo’s terror had quickly been replaced by surprise at Mr. Price’s appearance, and then focus as she’d taken her place on the shooting line. There was no room in her day to worry over what harm could have come to her—it hadn’t, she’d held her wits about her and freed herself with no one the wiser. Not even Adeline or Georgie had seen the man attempt to accost her. Though she was certain the man’s face would be forever burned into her memory, haunting her in sleep for many nights to come. She—along with her friends—would practice safer methods for attending tourneys in the future.
Theo glanced toward where Mr. Price had been standing only a few minutes before, but he’d vanished.
“Looking for me?” he asked, his lips brushing her ear.
“Certainly not, Mr. Price. On the contrary, it appears you cannot stop looking for me.” Theo glanced over her shoulder to where he’d moved to stand directly behind her—so close, his chest nearly pressed into her back. Georgie inched away in alarm, though Adeline acted as if her brother were not present. “Is it proper to stalk women who fail to give you what you want?”
“I only came to collect what belongs to me—my sister,” he replied, a deadly edge to his words. “You are nothing more than a means to an end, Lady Theodora.” Her heart skipped a beat at her name on his lips.
Theo scoffed to cover her reactions and laughed at his chosen terminology. It was something she and Cart had spent many years debating. Means can be followed without the intended end coming to be.
“Do you find our situation laughable?” he asked.
“Do you not mean, your situation, Mr. Price?” Theo responded. “My situation is exactly as I intended it to be.” Exactly may be a bit overzealous because, truthfully, Theo hadn’t had any intention of attending the tourney, nor competing, but she would not admit that to him. It was also not in her best interests to confess her fear of being recognized.
“I would have preferred it greatly if you hadn’t dragged my sister into this farce.”
Theo swung around. “I am tired of your high-handedness and inaccurate assumptions.”
Theo’s bow knocked Adeline when she turned, making it necessary for her to acknowledge her brother’s presence.
“Oh, you!” Adeline screeched. “It is your fault my arrow was off.”
Being faced by two angry women should invoke terror in a man, but Theo did not catch the slightest hint of fear from Mr. Price.
Instead, his arms crossed, and his eyes narrowed in annoyance as he turned to Adeline. “You will collect your things and depart with me as soon as the final round is over.”
“I will do nothing of the sort,” Adeline argued, mimicking her brother’s stance and narrowed-eye expression. “I arrived with Georgie and will depart with her.”
“The three of you are lucky I am not dragging you all out of this tourney kicking and screaming.” He turned his intense stare to Theo and then Georgie. “Do your families know your whereabouts?” he demanded.
Georgie peered at him, but refused to answer this question.
Theo offered instead, “We do not answer to you, nor are you responsible for us, Mr. Price.”
“I will take that as a no, they are not aware of your outrageous behavior.”
Again with his assumptions, but Theo would not back down.
“Maybe after I deposit Adeline at home I will pay a social visit to Lord Cartwright—and your home,” he paused, turning to Georgie. “Is it Lady Georgina?”
Georgie refused to meet his stare, but Theo suspected the girl worried about the punishment certain to come and her stepmother’s wrath if her whereabouts came to light. It was never a physical punishment, but more what was kept from Georgie when the duchess was irked by something—the girl would go days and weeks without seeing her father.
Theo saw exactly where Adeline had inherited her overbearing and dictatorial nature. It was a fair conclusion Viscount Melton’s children were used to getting everything they wanted, and if not, they took it by force.
With Adeline, it was an admirable quality when witnessed in small doses, but with Mr. Price, it was highly off-putting, domineering, and more than a bit vexing. He hadn’t inherited the Melton Viscountship as yet, but that did not stop his entitled behavior.
“It would be in your best interests to explain to me why you are here, risking your futures, all to play some silly sport.” He glared between the trio. Adeline looked away, refusing to speak, and Georgie’s gaze landed squarely at her feet. “Maybe I could be persuaded to forgo calling on your guardians if someone shared the reason behind this all.”
He was allowing them a way out; however, Theo would not admit they were only competing to earn the money needed to enter a far grander tournament that would be held in London’s Greenwich Park and attended by hundreds of archers from all over the known world. If he suspected this was not the end of their risk taking, he would surely go to Cart and demand he take control of his sister.
“You are only angry because I bested you—a woman outdid the great Mr. Price at archery,” Theo challenged in hopes of distracting him from his course of action and away from their true purpose for entering the tourney.
He laughed. “You think I am envious of your skill with a bow and arrow, Lady Theodora?”
“There is no other conclusion that makes your attitude and demands justified, sir.” Instead of distracting him, Theo saw his hold on his temper slipping at her accusation. “Besides, Adeline and Georgie were well shielded and have gone unrecognized.”
“And what of you?” he countered. “What if you win in the final round? The Post will demand to know your name, and seeing as you did not shield your face, they will find it, and your illustration will be spread around London. You and your family will be without recourse to stop it, and you’ll be branded a hoyden—a woman of questionable values—who gallivants about London unchaperoned. Is that what you want?”
Theo shook her head, knowing the grievous injury would befall not just her, but also her brother and Judith—as well as their children.
“What of you, miss?”
“It is Lady Georgina.” Her friend spoke in the aloof manner bred into her as the daughter of a duke—unwilling to cower to anyone.
“Very well, what of you, my lady?” His reasoning was compelling, but his manner in imparting it left much to be desired. “I can assure the lot of you that I do not wish this for Adeline or my other siblings.”
“Can we not discuss this later, maybe with a small amount of privacy?”
“Certainly,” he responded. “I suggest we all depart now, and we can talk of the dangers of your actions on the way to deposit each of you to your respective homes.”
“Maybe we should leave—“ Georgie started.
“Absolutely not,” Theo said, silencing her friend. “I am in the final round and aim to win this tourney.”
“If I do not win,” Mr. Price said. “If you seek to continue this foolhardy escapade, I at least implore you to borrow Lady Georgina’s cloak. If you haven’t already been recognized, that will lessen the chances in the next round.”
Theo wanted to rebuff his demand; unfortunately, his words had merit. She would not cast off his words only to spite him.
Georgie removed her cloak and handed it to Theo without any further prodding needed.
“Final round is to commence,” the announcer called. “Archers, take your places. There is to be only one shot by each archer. If you miss your target, you are disqualified and should depart the field immediately. If your arrow finds the target, please remain at the shooting line until all ten archers have taken their shot.” A loud cheer issued from the spectators, and the archers clapped in agreement, calling out that they approved of the terms. “Take your places. Round five finalist will shoot first, round one winner may select her position first.”
Theo donned the cloak and secured her hood, refusing to face Adeline’s brother and give him the satisfaction of gloating over her compliance with his demand. Next, she retrieved her bow from its peg on the rack and took her place on the field. She felt, rather than saw, Mr. Price follow her. His presence was not only demanding, it was also compelling—calling to Theo and drawing her notice.
She needs must calm herself, take the advice she normally gave Adeline and breathe deeply, releasing the air and lowering her shoulders. Any tension in her posture would adversely affect the trajectory of her arrow—and she could not risk Mr. Price being the reason she lost the tourney.
Adeline and Georgie had given Theo no say when they’d made the decision to enter the tourney. Theo hadn’t expected anything different. When she’d met Adeline, Georgie, and Josie, they’d been at Miss Emmeline’s for nearly a year. In that short time, they’d developed a strong friendship—one Theo knew she’d never break nor completely be a part of.
She had made peace with that fact. It did not make their closeness any less special, for every person sought something different from friendship. The women gave Theo a sense of kinship she’d never had before arriving at Miss Emmeline’s. Before departing for school, her only friend had been her older brother. A sad fact, indeed.
“Good luck, Lady Archer Number Two,” Alistair called. The crowd echoed his words of encouragement, unknowingly passing on his sarcasm. “Do enjoy your second place win this day.”
Theo turned a pointed glare on him, refusing to respond to his attempts at distraction. She would not allow him to anger her, to riffle her focus, or diminish her confidence with a bow.
The archers took their shots, only two missing the target in this round as they moved down the line, closer to Theo’s turn. The expertise of the archers was less than she’d expected, and with a bit more practice, Adeline and Georgie should do well in the larger tourney if these same men entered.
Theo longed to compete against the top archers in England, to take her place among the elite sportsmen. Alas, it was not to be—at least, not this year. Her brother had scheduled a meeting for her at the museum: the chance to sit down with the descendants of Giovanni Domenico Cassini, the inventor of the topographical map. She hoped to offer her suggestions for improving their ideas and putting the maps into mass production to distribute along plains areas with prevalent flooding regions. It was a lofty aspiration, but it was hers alone. Something more important to her than any archery tourney. With the prize purse, they could save Miss Emmeline’s livelihood and ensure that young girls had a safe school to attend, but improving the quality of maps and allowing for better foresight before heavy rains and flooding could save millions of lives.
“Lady Archer Number Two. Ready your arrow.”
Theo set her stance, knowing the square was favored by all archers, but her calculations deemed the position could be improved on by adjusting her back foot slightly, enabling her to draw her bowstring back a hair farther, which added to the force behind the loosing of her arrow—enabling her tip to drive further into the target and hold. Since her discovery, Theo’s shots had stuck with a resounding thud, no chance of losing purchase and falling to the ground. It was this that increased her odds of besting all other competitors. Many were burdens with not only finding an accurate aim but attaining the force to match—Theo hadn’t this concern. She would never admit to hedging her bets on the odds or anything resembling luck. Cart would insist she only put her trust in tried and true facts, proven by continual testing and resounding proof to the affirmative.
She stilled herself in an attempt to feel the breeze against her face. The overcrowded park made it impossible for even the slightest breeze to cool her heated skin. The lack of wind worked to her advantage and made one calculation unnecessary.
Due to her less than average stature as compared to targets mounted with men’s heights in mind, Theo tilted the tip of her arrow slightly up. Most would not notice the adjustment, but if her aim were correct, the arrow would soar a bit high before dropping in to hit the red center of her target.
Theo released her bowstring, confident in her aim, and her arrow flew through the air, steadfast in its course.
Odd that so much rested on this one shot, and Theo felt no apprehension. She felt completely at ease with the feel of the arrow leaving her bow and the trajectory of its flight. It would hit the target in the same spot as her first round shot.
The resounding explosion of applause confirmed that Theo had indeed made the best shot of the tourney so far, with only Mr. Price left.
She glanced to where Georgie and Adeline had stood to watch—but neither woman remained to behold her victory.
Chapter 9
Alistair followed Lady Theo’s line of sight. Lady Georgina and Adeline had disappeared…vanished into the crowd. He shouldn’t have allowed his sister out of his sight, even to continue in the tourney. The right thing would have been to lead her directly back to his horse and tie her to the pommel—paying the boy, Alger, to keep watch over her. Alas, Alistair doubted he had coin enough to exchange for the trouble Adeline would cause her young guard.
Alistair’s blood boiled at his sister’s audacity, her gall to flee his watch once more. The pounding in his head kept the noise of the park at bay as his mind whirled with the consequences he’d face shortly.
Adeline’s behavior was as maddening as Lady Theodora hitting her target dead center for the second time in one day. Even with months of training, Alistair doubted he could hit two such shots in a row. And it wasn’t that he needed to release another consistent arrow, no, he needed his final shot to be better than the last—or Lady Theodora’s identity would come into question as the victor.
It would have been far wiser if he’d collected Adeline when he’d first arrived and departed immediately, instead of being manipulated into competing. Though, he wondered if he’d truly been influenced or if he were enjoying the bout of rivalry despite his annoyance at his sibling’s improper behavior.
“Archer Number Ten. Release your arrow.”
The time had come, and no amount of agonizing over his stance, posture, or aim would help at this point. He double-checked his shot line and drew back his arrow, the yew bending at the force.
Alistair’s arrow drove hard and fast toward its target—hitting dead center of the red circle.
His grin could hardly be contained, and the urge to lift his bow high toward the crowd—much as Adeline had done—was not easily suppressed. Instead
, he focused on the two targets to hide his elation.
His arrow had hit the exact spot Lady Theo’s had.
If there were a definitive winner, Alistair could not see it from his vantage point.
The spectators inhaled sharply. He could only attribute their stunned silence to the closeness of the competition.
“Lady Archer Number Two and Archer Number Ten,” the announcer shouted as he ran out onto the field. “Your arrows are too close. I must inspect them before announcing the champion.”
This satisfied the crowd, for they stomped their collective feet and clapped at the judge’s proclamation.
Alistair moved toward Lady Theo as the bested archers left the field. “Where did you learn your skill with a bow?”
She took her eyes off the judge just long enough to send him a triumphant glance, as if she knew they’d determine her the victor. Thankfully, her face remained hidden from the crowd, only on display from his position next to her. “In my brother’s library.”
“Your parents allowed archery within the house?” His brow rose at her unexpected reply. Her family must be wealthy indeed to have a library large enough to practice with a bow—and have room and little concern for the damage it would cause. “You have a family most peculiar.”
“Heavens no, my parents did not allow sporting games indoors, Mr. Price. That is preposterous,” she said. “You asked where I learned my skill—and it was in my brother’s library. I never held an actual bow until arriving at Miss Emmeline’s.” She must have noticed his confusion because she explained. “Archery can be reduced to a simple equation to summate the force, trajectory, and angle needed to hit the target by an arrow of specific weight and length—also factoring in airflow, obviously.”
“Obviously,” he agreed, but nothing about her explanation was in any way obvious to Alistair. In fact, he only partly understood the words she’d used, let alone assign meaning to them. He rubbed his hand across his cleanly shaven jaw. “You are very impressive with a bow, Lady Theodora. I commend you on your skill. If you win, it would be a great honor to celebrate your victory.”
Theodora Page 8
