Sweetest Regret by Meredith Duran

Author:Meredith Duran
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Pocket Star

Chapter Eight

December 24

The crack of gunfire made Georgie clamp her hands over her ears. A flock of grouse wheeled and darted through the sky; farther down the field, two plummeted, but Lucas’s targets made a winging escape to the north.

Applause broke out. Georgie went on her tiptoes to look over the stone wall that blocked her view. A beater had gone running out to retrieve the felled birds. “Oh, well done!” shouted Countess Obolenskaya from her own hide, some fifty yards away.

A footman approached with a freshly loaded rifle. Lucas took it, then lifted it to sight over the wall.

“Are you a poor shot?” Georgie asked teasingly. “Or do grouse rank higher in your affections than geese?”

Lucas cast her a laughing, sidelong look. “Caught out,” he said.

She swallowed a happy sigh. She could stand beside him all day. The morning had dawned bright and mild, and a playful, kicking wind flirted with the thick curls in his dark hair. The sun, not to be outdone, lit his eyes until they reflected the patches of cloudless blue sky overhead.

Gunshot cracked again. They remained staring at each other. His gaze dipped to her mouth, and her skin seemed to tighten pleasurably. The curved wall protected them from others’ view. She could touch him, if she liked—could kiss him, even. Nobody would see.

But kissing him would not be enough.

She bit her cheek. She saw no way to satisfy this longing without endangering him. Not unless she found that letter.

She cleared her throat. “I asked the staff to search belowstairs,” she said. “If the guests don’t have the letter, perhaps they left it with one of their own servants.”

His expression hardened. He turned away from her to make a study of the stray grouse still fluttering overhead. “Forget the letter today.”

Were there more time remaining to them, she gladly would have done. But the guests would depart on Boxing Day. If they had not found the letter by then, she would have no way to keep her father in check. “Lucas, my father—”

“I find myself curiously indifferent to his concerns.” He sighted his rifle. The gun cracked, and a grouse dropped to the ground.

Applause broke out again, encouragements and congratulations traveling dimly down the field. One of the beaters ran up to fetch the felled bird.

This time, when the footman appeared with a fresh rifle, Lucas shook his head. “Leave the ammunition,” he said.

He knew his way with a weapon, reloading it and sighting with swift, efficient brutality. Another round of grouse exploded into flight, and his gun barked.

Down came a bird, its body thumping audibly against the grass.

“Crack shot!” came Obolensky’s cry. Lucas, grim-faced, reloaded his weapon. Georgie looked away from the tight line of his jaw to the dark huddled mass of the bird.

“Poor thing,” she said softly.

She heard Lucas sigh. He laid down the gun and turned to face her, his expression stony.

She took a deep breath. “If we find that letter, we can use it to our advantage. We can name our own price in exchange for it.

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