The tide turned, he sounded so certain, his tone and demeanor lending an air of reality to his words. It was remembered then that she’d been ruined when she arrived in Scotland. More credence to his claim was given.
Jane ignored the accusing faces of the guests and her world narrowed. There was only him and her, the pistol and the lie. “I’m married now to the man I fell in love with when I was but sixteen. Circumstances kept us from our happiness and I fled to Scotland, to the bosom of my mother’s family, where I thought I could safely nurse my grief. Instead I spent much of my time deflecting your advances. When Blixford didn’t come after me, as I wished him to, and instead took a third bride, my sorrow led me to finally accept your proposal, to allow liberties afforded a fiancé, only to hear your father’s announcement of your betrothal to Miss MacGruder, that very night.”
The tide turned again as another collective gasp went up round the room.
“That is why I shot you. Now, you again misuse me by your lies, and I’m compelled to respond.” Closing her right eye, she aimed carefully. Be the missile. Eye, hand, missile and target in harmony –all are one.
He didn’t believe she’d do it. He didn’t move.
She fired, someone screamed, and when the smoke cleared enough to see across the room, she saw that MacDougal sat upon the floor, clutching his thigh. “Hell and damn,” she said to her husband, “I forgot it kicks a bit to the left.”
“Hmm, yes, so it does. I should have reminded you.”
“I say, daughter, excellent shot! But you may have missed your mark slightly.”
In truth, she had aimed exactly right, hitting him with but a graze across the fleshy part of his thigh, just enough of a wound to bleed impressively. The ball would be found somewhere behind him. She held the pistol before her and looked quizzical. “Shall I try again?”
MacDougal shouted, “No! Mother of God! I cannot believe you shot me!” He paused. “Again!”
She walked with Blixford across the dance floor and they stared down at MacDougal, at the bloom of blood spreading from his leg.
Blixford raised his quizzing glass and observed in a detached manner before he frowned his displeasure. “You must get up at once. You are bleeding all over Lady Bloomsbury’s floor.”
Her cousin clearly remembered it was what he had said to her, after taking her virginity, that she should get up immediately as she was bleeding on his mama’s divan. He had the good grace to look ashamed. And the good sense to look worried.
“Lady Bloomsbury,” Jane called, “I believe a set of footmen might be useful.” She looked at the blood. “I daresay a parlor maid is also in order.” The marchioness moved toward them. It was the moment of reckoning. If she ignored Jane, their little stage play had not worked and she and Blixford would be shunned forever. As she drew close, Jane said in her very best duchess voice, “My heartfelt and sincere apologies, ma’am. It appears I’ve disrupted your lovely ball, and injured this man such that he is making rather a mess upon your floor. I hope and pray you can forgive me.”
The older woman tapped her fan against her multitude of chins as she looked at Jane, then down to MacDougal, then to Anna. She looked at Blixford, at Sherbourne, Lucy, and all of her brothers, who’d moved close, and finally, she looked around at the faces of her guests.
“For God’s sake, woman, have you no mercy? I’m in danger of bleeding to death while you decide whether to forgive my cousin for shooting me!”
The marchioness’s expression didn’t change at all. She remained inscrutable as she looked down at MacDougal. “It’s unfortunate that you’re bleeding to death, but I cannot find it within me to call for assistance until I know the truth.”
“I’ve told you the truth. She was my mistress. That she coerced marriage to a duke would be laughable, if it were not so pathetic.”
“Deuced rude to call you pathetic, Blix,” Wrotham said. “And I believe he called Lady Bloomsbury ‘woman’. Such disrespect should surely not go unpunished.”
“I agree. Jane, love, would you be so good?” He handed her a bullet from his pocket.
“Delighted, husband.” She loaded the pistol and pointed it at MacDougal’s crotch.
Incredibly, the marchioness said, rather loudly, “You’re a tremendously good shot, Duchess, and I believe I may just take up pistols as well. I believe I might be up to the challenge, but it’s really not very sporting to shoot him at this close range.” She waved her arms, shooing the guests back. “Do step away and give the man a chance to save his manhood.”