Lara Temple - Lord Crayle's Secret World

* * *

Back in the salle, Antonelli stood by as Michael prepared for their practice.

‘Strange things wash up on your shores, young Michael,’ he observed after a moment. Michael looked up from the foils he was inspecting. Strange was one way of putting it. The way Sari swung between that impulsive, uncalculated charm and a mix of hauteur and bravado was disconcerting.

‘Stranger than even I thought. What did you learn about her?’

‘She said a Sicilian had taught her to fence many years ago. Along with a few other tricks, I would hazard, knowing Sicilians. She has grace and daring, but not much method. It will be a challenge to discipline her.’

Michael wondered if her good behaviour would survive the test of time once the word discipline was mentioned.

‘Good luck. She may be more intractable than first impressions indicate.’

Antonelli dipped his head to one side, considering. ‘Perhaps, and yet I think she will meet me on this. It will be interesting to see what differences there are between men and women...’ He paused as Michael faintly quirked a brow in amusement.

‘Now, now, none of that nonsense,’ Antonelli admonished. ‘However, my friend, I am also wondering what will happen when the men notice a young and most attractive female is wandering the corridors?’

Michael frowned. ‘I hadn’t considered that. Perhaps we should keep her schedule different from the others. All these young fools need is an object on which to focus their bravado and easy infatuations and we will have mayhem on our hands.’

‘I seem to remember a time when you, too, were young, my friend,’ the older man pointed out mildly.

‘A long time ago. Still, that is why I know the danger we may be stirring by dropping an unsuspecting female into the middle of this pack of wolves. And I have a feeling she is definitely unsuspecting.’

Michael picked up one of the foils absently, weighing it in his hands. The more he learned about this woman, the less comfortable he became. When he had thought she was clearly a criminal of sorts, making use of her seemed acceptable. Now that it was becoming clear she was just a young woman forced to desperate measures by circumstance, the thought of placing her in compromising or dangerous situations was less palatable. He was surprised that strait-laced Anderson, of all people, wasn’t objecting on the same grounds.

‘I hear she might be a good shot,’ Antonelli said, interrupting his thoughts. ‘Will O’Brien be training her in the gallery or will you?’ he continued as they took their places on the strip.

Michael glanced up with some surprise. He hadn’t considered the possibility. O’Brien usually trained the men when they first arrived in the rudiments of shooting while Michael did training outdoors with the most promising of the lot. Still, if she was as good as her shots on the Heath had indicated...

‘I don’t know yet,’ he answered evasively. ‘We’ll see. En garde.’

Antonelli echoed his salute and Michael cleared his mind of anything but the other man’s sword.

Chapter Seven

Stepping out of Deakins’s class on the fourth day of her training, Sari was forced to admit the earl had been right about her and Deakins. He was her favourite instructor thus far, only after Antonelli. She loved his lab of chemicals, lock picks and trunks of disguises. There must be more of the lawbreaker in her than she cared to admit. She headed towards the clerk’s office, wondering what other training had been assigned for her that day.

Penrose glanced up as she entered his small room by the main door.

‘Ah, miss, follow me, if you please,’ he said pleasantly.

Sari followed. She knew part of her role in the Institute included not asking where she was being taken or what she was expected to do, but as Penrose led her through a door and down a set of winding stairs, she began to feel slightly uneasy. They descended farther and farther, and she had the slightly hysterical thought that perhaps they were going to dispose of her in some underground dungeon.

‘Almost there, miss,’ Penrose said as the stairs ended and they proceeded along a narrow corridor. Rather than echoing, his voice became peculiarly muted. Finally, they reached a broad door and he motioned her ahead of him.

She entered and her mouth opened in awe as she realised she was in an underground shooting gallery. Three long lanes stretched some thirty yards up to a well-lit wall where life-size dummies were propped up on posts.

‘Thank you, Penrose; you can return upstairs now.’

She whirled around in surprise. She hadn’t noticed before, but at the back of the room there were several tall cabinets, and Lord Crayle stood beside one, pulling a wooden case from one of the shelves.

Alone with the earl, Sari stood waiting uncertainly. He didn’t address her, just placed the case he held on a long table by the wall and opened it. Inside was small elegant pistol in dark wood and brass.

‘This was designed for the Cavalry, so it is light, easy to reload and not likely to go off if it’s jarred. Here, it’s loaded and cocked. Just try not to shoot at me this time,’ he added with a sardonic half smile as he handed it to her.

She took the pistol gingerly. She felt unusually nervous holding it. Perhaps it was because she had never been to a shooting gallery before. With Cavalcatti they had always practised outdoors. More likely it was because she suddenly felt painfully nervous around the earl without someone’s mediating presence. Their light-hearted interchange in the salle seemed very far away, almost as if it had taken place with someone else, and now here again was the same man who had faced her across the desk in his study. Hard and watchful and knowing.

She tried to ignore his presence at her back and concentrated on the pistol. It was light and smooth and the brass moulding on the handle was cold. She raised it and sighted the dummy at the end of the lane where she stood. Then she took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she aimed, just milking the trigger the way Cavalcatti had taught her. She took her shot. There was a muted explosion and the dummy jerked with a disconcertingly lifelike movement.

‘I thought it would be louder,’ she said, lowering the pistol.

The earl was looking towards the dummy with a slight smile.

‘Deakins designed special walls to absorb the noise. Right in the chest. Not bad for a new gun. So you did miss me on purpose that night; I was wondering.’

‘That was the first time I actually shot at someone,’ she said.

‘Lucky you. I hope you never have to do so again,’ he said lightly, but there was something in his voice that made her look up sharply.

‘Shall I clean and reload it?’ she asked to break the silence.

He nodded and watched as she skilfully cleaned and reloaded the pistol. Her next practice was speed-shooting at a target marked with various coloured circles. After each reload he stated a colour and she took her shot as quickly as possible. Lord Crayle watched without comment. Then, after five circles he took the pistol from her and handed her a different one.

‘Here, try this on the dummy. This is one of Joe Manton’s finest. It’s weighted at the tip so there is less recoil.’

‘Is this a duelling pistol?’ she asked, forgetting her nervousness slightly. He smiled, amused by her patent awe.

‘Similar. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but there aren’t many duels nowadays. Mostly it is just shooting at wafers.’

‘I’m not disappointed,’ she replied, returning his smile. She took the pistol from him. The barrel was longer and she could tell it was built for accuracy. ‘I never understood why men would consider honour worth risking their lives for. Shooting at wafers makes much more sense.’