Colin looked at Phillip with deadly serious eyes. “We take our games seriously.”
“I’m gathering.”
“Do you fence?”
“Not well,” Phillip said.
One corner of Colin’s mouth turned up. “Excellent.”
“Be quiet,” Anthony barked, looking testily over at them. “I’m trying to aim.”
“Such need for silence will not serve you well at a time of crisis,” Colin remarked.
“Shut up,” Anthony bit off.
“If we were attacked,” Colin continued, one of his hands moving expressively as he wove his tale, “it would be quite noisy, and frankly, I find it disturbing to think—”
“Colin!” Anthony bellowed.
“Don’t mind me,” Colin said.
“I’m going to kill him,” Anthony announced. “Does anyone mind if I kill him?”
No one did, although Sophie did look up and mention something about blood and messes and not wanting to have to clean up.
“It’s an excellent fertilizer,” Phillip said helpfully, since, after all, that was his area of expertise.
“Ah.” Sophie nodded and turned back to her book. “Kill him, then.”
“How’s that book, darling?” Benedict called out to her.
“It’s quite good, actually.”
“Will you all shut up?” Anthony ground out. Then, his cheeks coloring slightly, he turned to his sister-in-law and mumbled, “Not you, of course, Sophie.”
“Glad to be exempted,” she said cheerfully.
“Do try not to threaten my wife,” Benedict said mildly.
Anthony turned to his brother and skewered him with a glare. “The lot of you should be drawn and quartered,” he grunted.
“Except for Sophie,” Colin reminded him.
Anthony turned to him with a deadly expression. “You do realize this gun is loaded, don’t you?”
“Lucky for me fratricide is considered quite beyond the pale.”
Anthony clamped his mouth shut and turned back toward the target. “Round two,” he called out, taking aim.
“Waaaaaaait!”
All four Bridgerton men sagged and turned around, groaning as they saw Eloise careening down the hill.
“Are you shooting?” she demanded, stumbling to a halt.
No one answered. No one really needed to. It was quite obvious.
“Without me?”
“We’re not shooting,” Gregory said. “Just standing about with guns.”
“Near a target,” Colin added helpfully.
“You’re shooting.”
“Of course we’re shooting,” Anthony snapped. He flicked his head off to the right. “Sophie is by herself. You should keep her company.”
Eloise planted her hands on her hips. “Sophie is reading a book.”
“A good one, too,” Sophie put in, returning her attention to the pages.
“You should read a book, too, Eloise,” Benedict suggested. “They’re very improving.”
“I don’t need any improving,” she shot back. “Give me a gun.”
“I’m not giving you a gun,” Benedict retorted. “We don’t have enough to go around.”
“We can share,” Eloise ground out. “Have you ever tried sharing? It’s very improving.”
Benedict scowled at her in a manner that wasn’t particularly fitting for a man of his years.
“I think,” Colin said, “that what Benedict was trying to say is that he’s as improved as he’s ever going to be.”
“For certain,” Sophie said, not even raising her eyes from her book.
“Here,” Phillip said magnanimously, handing his gun to Eloise, “have mine.” The four Bridgerton men groaned, but he decided he rather enjoyed annoying them.
“Thank you,” Eloise said graciously. “From Anthony’s bark of ‘Round two’ I deduce that you’ve each taken one shot?”
“Indeed,” Phillip replied. He looked over at her brothers, all of whom wore dejected expressions. “What’s wrong?”
Anthony just shook his head.
Phillip looked to Benedict.
“She’s a freak of nature,” Benedict muttered.
Phillip looked back at Eloise with renewed interest. She didn’t look particularly freakish to him.
“I’m dropping out,” Gregory muttered. “I haven’t eaten breakfast yet.”
“You’ll have to ring for more,” Colin told him. “I already finished it all.”
Gregory let out an annoyed sigh. “It’s a wonder I haven’t starved,” he grumbled, “younger brother that I am.”
Colin shrugged. “You’ve got to be quick if you want to eat.”
Anthony looked at the two of them with disgust. “Did the two of you grow up in an orphanage?” he asked.
Phillip bit his lip to contain his smile.
“Are we going to shoot?” Eloise demanded.
“You certainly are,” Gregory said, slumping against a tree. “I’m leaving to eat.”
He stayed, though, watching his sister with a bored expression as she lifted her arm and, without even appearing to aim, fired.
Phillip blinked in surprise as the footman brought forth the target.
Dead center.
“Where did you learn to do that?” he asked, trying not to gape.
She shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. I’ve always been able to do it.”
“Freak of nature,” Colin muttered. “Clearly.”
“I think it’s splendid,” Phillip said.
Eloise looked at him with glowing eyes. “Do you really?”
“Of course. Should I ever need to defend my home, I shall know who to send out to the front line.”
She beamed. “Where’s the next target?”
Gregory threw his arms up in disgust. “I forfeit. I’m getting something to eat.”
“Get something for me, too,” Colin called out.
“Of course,” Gregory muttered.
Eloise turned to Anthony. “Is it your turn now?”
He took the gun from her hands and set it on the table to be reloaded. “As if it matters.”
“We have to do all five rounds,” she said officiously. “You were the one who made the rules.”
“I know,” he said glumly. He lifted his arm and fired off a shot, but his heart clearly was not into it, and he was off by five inches.
“You’re not even trying!” Eloise accused.
Anthony just turned to Benedict and said, “I hate shooting with her.”
“Your turn,” Eloise said to Benedict.
He took his turn, as did Colin, both men putting in a bit more effort than Anthony had, but still coming up off the mark.
Phillip stepped up to the chalk line, pausing only to listen as Eloise said, “Don’t you decide to give up.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured.
“Good. It’s no fun to play with bad sports.” She directed the last two words quite vehemently toward her brothers.
“That’s the point,” Benedict said.
“They do this every time,” Eloise said to Phillip. “They shoot badly until I decide the match isn’t worth it, and then they all have fun.”
“Be quiet,” Phillip told her, lips twitching. “I’m aiming.”
“Oh.” She shut her mouth with alacrity, watching with interest as he focused on the target.
Phillip took his shot, allowing himself a slow, satisfied smile as the target was brought forward.
“Perfect!” Eloise exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Oh, Phillip, that was wonderful!”
Anthony muttered something under his breath that he probably ought not to have said in his sister’s presence, then added, directing his words to Phillip, “You are going to marry her, aren’t you? Because frankly, if you get her off of our hands and allow her to shoot with you so that she doesn’t pester us, I’ll gladly double her dowry.”
Phillip was quite certain at that point that he’d wed her for nothing, but he just grinned and said, “It’s a deal.”
Chapter 13
. . . and as I’m sure you can imagine, they were all possessed of a most foul temper. Is it my fault I am so superior? I think not. No more, I suppose, than it is their fault they were born men and thus without the barest hint of common sense or innate good manners.
—from Eloise Bridgerton
to Penelope Featherington,
after trouncing six men (three not
related to her) in a shooting match
The following day Eloise traveled to Romney Hall for lunch, along with Anthony, Benedict, and Sophie. Colin and Gregory had declared that the rest of the family had the situation well enough in hand and decided to return to London, Colin back to his new wife, and Gregory back to whatever it was the young unmarried men of the ton did to fill their daily lives.
Eloise was happy to see them go; she loved her brothers, but truly, the four of them at once was more than any woman ought to be expected to bear.