Lady in Red (Talisman Ring 5) by Karen Hawkins

Author:Karen Hawkins
Format: mobi
Published: 2010-01-28T19:04:51+00:00

Chapter 12

I don’t play cards to win. I play cards to see how people react to losing. That is where I get my true enjoyment.

The scintillating Lady Marianne McDabney, after winning a handsome sum from the rather hapless Edmond Valmont

Honoria took a deep breath, focusing every fathom of determination she possessed on the target that stood in the back of their garden. Of course, “garden” was a generous word, as the strip of land behind the house was a rather long, narrow affair lined with small trees and box rows and little else. She supposed the marquis had a real garden behind his palatial house. For a faint moment she wondered what Trey-mount House looked like inside. She’d only driven by it in a carriage, and at the time had thought it the haughtiest house in Mayfair, which was quite a feat. Once she had the opportunity to meet the mighty marquis himself, the house had seemed even larger and even more inhospitable. Of course, she knew a bit more about the marquis now. Strangely, that had changed her perception of the house as well. She absently flicked the ends of the feather shafts through her fingers, remembering the grand Italianate facade, the sweeping marble portico, and the ornate decorative window trims. Now she rather thought the house was simply commanding. Thus Treymount House wasn’t as unapproachable as it seemed. For that matter, neither was the marquis.

She sighed, lifted the arrow and sighted down the shaft. Understanding the marquis would do her no good if she lost the contest. She took a steadying breath, then brought up the bow and notched the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

arrow. She eyed the target, pulled the bow string back… back… back—

“Oh pother!” Olivia said, exasperation in her voice. She sat to one side of the garden, comfortably ensconced in a large padded chair as she critically watched Honoria practice. “You’re taking forever. Just let it fly.”

“Yes,” Portia agreed. She was seated in a matching chair to the other side, her legs tucked beneath her skirts, her entire attention focused on her oldest sister. “If you wish to win, you have to be more forceful in your actions. More authoritative.”

Honoria lowered the bow, carefully letting the string rest back in place. “That is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Portia stood, her skirts rustling about her. “Here. I’ll show you what I mean.” She pretended to hold a bow and arrow, lifting her chin a ridiculous amount and saying in a loud, theatrical voice, “Marquis, I defy you to win! Truth is my armor, integrity my soul.” With a grand sweep of her arm, Portia closed her eyes… and let fly her pretend arrow.

Olivia obligingly said, “Thunk!”

Portia took a noble breath, a blinding expression of hope on her face as she opened her eyes. “Did I—

Oh yes! I did!” Still in character, she threw back her head and laughed, long and melodiously, before tossing her arms in the air. “Goodness and beauty has triumphed over all! Never again shall I question the hands of fate!”

Olivia clapped.

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