Page 14 of Vanquished by a Viscount (Tales from the Brotherhood #3)
“Yes,” Barbara said slowly, evidently not entirely ignorant as to her friend’s intentions where Pettigrew was concerned.
“And my dear brother, Lord Broxbourne, and Mr. Grayson Hawthorne will join your group,” she said.
She glanced briefly at Charlie, her mouth twitching into a smile, before hurrying on with, “We shall have Lady Winifred, Miss Martin, Lord Iverson, and Mr. Gunnerson form the second group, and the rest of you will be the third.”
“And Lady Suzanne will be our judge,” Lady Carolina joked.
The others laughed and split off into their assigned groups. Gray did not even bother sighing at the division of persons. He should have known.
He stepped over to Pettigrew’s side, standing between him and Lady Eudora. The least he could do with the hand that had been dealt to him was to protect his friend from embarrassment.
“Shall I claim our bow and arrows?” Lady Eudora offered, batting her eyelashes prettily at Pettigrew. “I dare say I know nothing about choosing the best instrument, but I shall endeavor to pick the very best for you, Dr. Pettigrew.”
“Um, thank you,” Pettigrew said, smiling tightly and nodding to her.
As soon as Lady Eudora had danced off to where one of the footmen was handing out bows and quivers of arrows, Pettigrew sighed and said, “That woman and her mama are determined to catch me in their snare.”
“Do either of them suspect you would not make the sort of husband they think you would?” Charlie asked, stepping up on Pettigrew’s other side.
“Of course not,” Pettigrew sighed. “I am not certain that it would matter to the mama, however. She has evidently been given knowledge of my recent inheritance and the improvement of my situation in life that said inheritance brings.”
“I would offer to deflect the young lady’s interest for you,” Charlie went on, “but I’ve no wish to become the object of her affection in your stead.”
Clearly, the comment was intended to be humorous, but it found its way under Gray’s skin and reignited the latent frustration he felt toward the bastard.
“Why am I not surprised that you would not come to the aid of a friend,” he said with a sniff, crossing his arms and glaring sideways at Charlie. “You always were a selfish git.”
“I beg your pardon?” Charlie said, pivoting to face Gray with an incredulous look.
Gray ignored him in favor of addressing Pettigrew. “I will assist you in deterring Lady Eudora in whatever way possible,” he said, puffing himself up a bit for being the better man.
“As if Lady Eudora would be the least bit interested in you,” Charlie said.
A wary look appeared on Pettigrew’s face. “Gentlemen,” he said warningly.
Gray had every intention of continuing his verbal sparring match with Charlie—and he refused to admit that there was something invigorating and exciting about arguing with him—but Lady Eudora returned with a bow in one hand and a quiver of arrows in the other that looked a bit too heavy for her.
“Allow me to assist you, Lady Eudora,” Gray said instead, jumping to the lady’s aid.
“Let me take that bow for you,” Charlie said, rushing up to help the startled young woman as well.
“Oh! I…that is…I had intended to give these to Dr. Pettigrew,” she said, though she allowed Gray and Charlie to take her burdens.
“It is no trouble at all, my lady,” Gray said, giving Lady Eudora what he fully believed was his most winning smile.
Lady Eudora flinched away from him, and once she’d rushed on to stand by Pettigrew’s side, Charlie sidled up to Gray and said, “You look like an arse.”
Gray glared at him for a moment before sniffing and marching away to the rope that had been laid down to mark the line upon which archers should stand to fire.
It was clear that no one in the party had much official knowledge of how archery tournaments were conducted.
Barbara made up a scoring system based on the colors of the areas of the targets, which were not uniform from target to target, and the distance each competitor stood across the lawn.
After the first few rounds of practice shots, it was equally clear that very few of the guests had ever picked up a bow in their lives.
“It is more challenging than it appears,” Lady Eudora laughed anxiously as she fumbled to notch an arrow against the bowstring and then to pull it back. “Perhaps you would be willing to show me, Dr. Pettigrew?”
She glanced over to where Lord Iverson had his arms boldly around Lady Winifred as he attempted to show her how to draw the bow.
“I could assist you, if you’d like,” Gray offered, sending a smug look to Charlie.
“Er, um, I think I should rather have Dr. Pettigrew show me,” Lady Eudora said, her face turning bright pink.
Charlie covered his mouth with one hand, sniggering at Gray.
Gray glared daggers back at him.
“I know no more than you do, Lady Eudora,” Pettigrew said, keeping his distance from the lady, even though it was clear she wished him to step up. “Perhaps we should give one of the others a try.”
For a moment, Lady Eudora looked deeply disappointed. Then inspiration seemed to strike her. “Yes, I think that is best,” she said, moving away from the rope.
Gray stepped forward to take the bow and arrow from her before she skipped her way back to stand by Pettigrew’s side. This time, she managed to grab Pettigrew’s arm before he could shy away.
Gray kept his amusement inside as he gripped the bow and stepped up to the line.
With a quick peek at Charlie, who stood to the side with his arms crossed and a grim look on his face, he raised the bow, drew it, and fired.
His arrow sailed through the air, landing a few inches left of its center.
It was not perfect, but at least he’d hit the target, which was more than could be said for Lady Winifred, despite Lord Iverson’s assistance.
No one cheered Gray’s efforts. Lady Eudora had given all her attention to Pettigrew and Pettigrew was glancing around in search of some means of escape. Charlie merely smirked and stepped forward to take the bow from Gray.
“An admirable effort,” he said as if Gray’s effort had been anything but.
Their hands touched briefly during the bow exchange. Gray tried to ignore the zing of warmth that shot up his arm.
“As if you could do better,” he said with a sneer.
Charlie arched one eyebrow at him, then retrieved an arrow from the quiver propped to one side of the line. Gray stepped back to watch him shoot, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.
As soon as Charlie notched the arrow and raised the bow, the bottom dropped out of his stomach. Charlie took aim with the precision of an expert, and when he fired, his arrow flew the distance to the target and stuck in near the center.
“Oh, very well done, Charlie,” Barbara congratulated him from where she stood toward the center of the area where the would-be archers waited.
Charlie turned to smile at his sister. “It seems I have retained the skills we gained from all those years of archery lessons at Downham Manor,” he told Barbara cheerfully…then sent Gray a smug wink.
Gray bristled. So once again, the game had been set against him before he’d even started. He’d be damned if he let Charlie come out the winner at his expense once more. He refused to be vanquished by a heartless git.
Without waiting to see if Pettigrew or Lady Eudora wished to take another turn—he was nearly certain they would not—Gray marched forward to snatch the bow from Charlie, then stomped over to retrieve another arrow. From there, he set himself at the line, drawing the bow and raising it to take aim.
A flurry of doubt raced through him as he tried to still his hands long enough to accurately aim. He did not have the skill that Charlie evidently had, but what he lacked in practice, he was certain he made up for in determination. He would not let Charlie humiliate him again.
He let the arrow fly and was delightfully surprised when it sank into the target closer to the center than Charlie’s first effort. It was something of a miracle shot, but perhaps it was his day for miracles.
“Luck,” Charlie said, moving up behind him to take the bow from him. “Pure luck.”
“Do you think?” Gray asked, grinning and keeping his grip on the bow.
It was absolutely luck, but if he could unnerve Charlie by making him think he might lose at his own game after all, then he would pretend more confidence than he felt.
Charlie tugged on the bow, his hand touching Gray’s. For a moment, Gray stared into his eyes with a grin, unwilling to hand the bow over. Proverbial sparks flew between them, and despite his earlier efforts at relief, Gray’s trousers felt entirely too tight.
Finally, he let Charlie take the bow. It still felt like a victory of sorts for Gray.
Until Charlie stepped up to the line and with what appeared to be perfect ease fired an arrow that landed exactly in the center of the target.
More than a few of the other guests had watched the shot and applauded. Charlie turned and bowed, which had Gray’s blood boiling. For more than one reason. Damn his eyes for finding that sort of cocky display attractive.
“Well done, brother,” Barbara said, clapping as enthusiastically as the rest. “I think you should most definitely win the prize.”
“Hold on a moment,” Robert laughed by her side. “We’ve only just begun. We should give the others a chance to match Lord Broxbourne’s skill.”
“If they can,” Charlie said quietly, directing his comment specifically to Gray.
The man’s smile was aggravatingly smug. Gray couldn’t stand it.
He couldn’t stand the maelstrom of emotions, anger, longing, desire, and more, that battered him as he stared back at Charlie.
He should have returned to the Continent or left for Australia sooner.
This intoxicating proximity to Charlie was already undoing years’ worth of resolve, and it had only been a day.
“If you will excuse me,” he said, dragging his eyes away from Charlie to nod to Barbara, then turning and walking off.
“Grayson,” Charlie called after him.
Gray ignored him. If they had not been in mixed company, he would have given Charlie a rude gesture as he walked off.
No good was going to come of the two of them being so close for the summer. Gray had the horrible feeling that he was about to have his heart broken all over again.