"I do, darling, truly I do. All right, if you really want to practice, I'll think of something."
"Thank you, Sarah."
"Come now, rest. And I'll see you later."
She tucked him in, kissed his lips tenderly, and held his hand until he fell into a fitful doze.
Then she headed to the top of the house, her eyes and throat scratchy with suppressed tears. Lord, what was she to do now? He swore his family was gone, but she could tell he wasn't sure. And his sense of danger might be just some morbid notion, but she felt nervous all the same.
She climbed into the attic and took down the launcher for clay pigeons which her brother had trained with as a young man. Every gentleman was expected to have good shooting skills, but eventually her brother and the Rakehells had come to disapproving of killing anything that would not then be eaten.
She found a good supply of the clay discs, and several of Jonathan's old fowling pieces and some ammunition. Then she took out his old Army swords, brutal straight-edged weapons used for hacking people to pieces on the battlefield.
They were not exactly the weapons of a gentleman, let alone a lady, but Jonathan secretly had allowed her to make a fourth in his dueling practice with his friends. "Father would have been livid," she murmured. "As it was, Mother forbid me to spend time alone with the lads without one or the other of my sisters when she found out."
But it had been fun, and she had been good. Very good, or so her brother and the Duke had said. She sighed. Those days had seemed so simple, so uncomplicated...
She brought the items down into the garden, and went back up to change into her riding breeches and a shirt.
"Good lord, if anyone in the village sees me, they'll think I've gone mad," she muttered to herself as she stood in front of the hall mirror and flicked a sword to and fro.
She brought the things to the back of the barn. She was sure they would not be spotted there if anyone came up the road. "I am bloody mad. He can't see," she said with a shake of her head.
But if it made Alexander happy, she would gladly do it.
Chapter Twenty
When Alexander got up an hour later, Sarah led him to the secluded spot behind the barn where she had set up all their things for battle practice. She tested the launcher, and watched the clay pigeon fly.
He stripped off his jacket and waistcoat, and came up behind her. He put his hands over hers and followed the movement as she traced the arc of the skeet flying through the air.
"I ought to be able to hear the whistling sound as well."
"Right. I'll be your launcher. But first you have to load the weapons yourself. Everything you need is right there."
He sniffed and felt them. "They're pretty well-cared for."
"Caleb tends them every so often. We had a good spring clean a couple of weeks ago. We can tell him to keep them well-oiled and loaded. You can come practice any time with him if you like."
"That sounds like a good plan."
He spent a half an hour firing at the pigeons, until his shoulder was sore from the kick of the musket. He had hit only about forty percent of them. But for a blind man it was pretty remarkable, and she told him so.
He ignored her praise. "Let's see what I can do with a sword."
"They are only his old Army blades, I'm afraid."
"They'll do," he said, weighing the weapon in his hand with an ease which betokened great familiarity with such a weapon. "Come at me, hard, and see if I can parry."
"I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't."
His assurance made her feel sorely tempted to show off. She made sure the weapons were corked at the tip, and handed him one. He held it out in front of him, and she locked swords with him for a moment, before swinging her weapon with full force against his abdomen. A whoosh of air flew out of his lungs.
"If that had been the sharp edge, your guts would be decorating my garden now. You're just going to have to face the fact that there are some things your physical condition will not allow to you to do."
"I don't accept that!"
"Perhaps you'll just have to."
"Well, I don't," he said with an angry scowl.
She gave a short laugh. "Fine, let's see YOU get pregnant and have a baby."
He managed to smile at her joke. "All right. I give in. There are some things in life I willl never be able to do myself. But practice can make perfect in other areas. Just give me some practice with my arms."
"What, both of them?"
He flipped the sword between his hands easily, and now began to fight with his left.
"An interesting trick."