A Matter Of Delicacy

The Shot

     Instantly Paulette's rifle was slung out from over my shoulder and pointed at Beresford's head, the pommel braced against my shoulder.
     He had the nerve to tut at me, smiling like I was a child throwing a tantrum in public, 'come now, Miss Wentworth. You're better than that.'
     He was right – it was pointless posturing. Both he and I knew I could never take a shot. Rifles were slow to fire, and he'd have a shot out before I did, firing straight into Caroline's skull. Here we stood, all breathing hard and tense and terrified, knowing with heavy dread that he held all the chips.
     'Are you alright, Your Highness?' I didn't risk a glance at her, but Caroline just let out a shaky, panicked laugh. I flexed my finger on the trigger and hated the way Beresford's eyebrow twitched in amusement. 'You're really doing well today, hey Beresford? Not only do you have treason on your mind, but you've also shot the Prime Minister. I bet all of Westminster will line up to pull the hangman's leaver.'
     His grin was toothy and wicked, 'oh don't be hysterical, it doesn't suit you.'
     'I hope for your sake Grenville's feeling generous, but I doubt it, what with a bullet in him.'
     'There won't be one,' he patted a leather bag at his waist. 'Flash bombs. I dropped one as we headed for the lake, spurred on by you, I might add. Although I do hope that broken bone isn't something important.'
     I clenched my teeth, 'put the gun down Beresford.'
     'That's not quite how this is going to work, I'm afraid.'
      'Do you really want to sign your life away like this? It's not worth it.'
      His thumb pulled the hammer back with a click. Caroline drew in a sharp breath, my eyes flicked between him and her, the barrel of my rifle shaking despite everything.
     'Don't,' I whispered, my voice pleading and weak and hateful.
     'I'd say I'm sorry,' he drawled, a terrifying fire in his eyes. 'But we both know that's a lie. A job's a job I'm afraid.'
     He closed one eye, taking aim.
     'Paulette's dead!' I almost shouted it. God, my heart hammered enough to hurt. Please no, please no, please don't kill her.
     Both eyes opened and he sighed, a grim set to his jaw, 'yes, I thought that must have been the case.'
     'What are you doing here?' I strained my ears to listen for Willoughby and the other guards coming our way, or passers-by I could alert. Anything to change the dynamic of this situation, anything to get the upper hand once again.
     He almost smirked, 'my job, Miss Wentworth.'
     'Your job is over! There's no money!'
     He just laughed.
     This was not going to work out well for me, I realised. I could not surprise, I could not reason, I could not outnumber, I could not bargain.
     But I could distract.
     My eyes met Caroline's, and though she was clearly terrified, the steel in her gaze was resolute and determined. Her chin raised imperceptibly, but I saw it. I saw her fists clenching. I saw the corner of her mouth twitch.
     She was prepared to die, I realised. She was prepared to risk it all for the tiny and hopeful chance of living. There she stood, a pistol cocked and dangerous to her head, a man full of intent and cold calculation just waiting to pull the trigger, and she was not cowed.
     She was, perhaps, the bravest person I knew.
     And I would not let her down.
     'Willoughby!' I yelled, holding Beresford's gaze as it snapped to me. I doubted Willoughby could hear me from the other side of the lake, doubted he'd hear anything over Grenville's groans and his own worry. But it would add a slight tinge of chaos to Beresford's plan.    'Willoughby, we've got him!'
     Beresford's eyebrow raised, 'that's a tad insulting, given our current predicament, don't you think?'
     'Oh, I fully intend to have you in irons within the next few minutes.' I hefted the rifle higher, bending my head to aim through the sights at him. I could get him – I wouldn't miss from this distance.
     But that pistol aimed at Caroline's head was too steady and sure for my liking.
     'A few minutes? Gracious, how kind of you.' His finger tightened on the trigger but this time, I was totally calm. A cool, steadfast reassurance had settled over me.
     'Don't fret, Beresford.' I lifted my head from the sights and aimed the rifle straight up at the sky, dropping my left hand loose against my side. 'I'm not that kind.'
     I fired.
     The shot echoed across the park and rang in my ears. Beresford flinched.
     As fast as a snake, Caroline leapt forward, a folded fan appearing in her hand. She brought it across his arm with a crack, sending the pistol veering wildly to one side. He staggered, slipping slightly in the pool of blood at his feet.
     Pulling my pistol out of my belt in one fluid motion, I held it in front of my face, took aim, and fired.
     The bullet shot into his forearm with a perfect explosion of blood and a shattering of bone. He bellowed in pain, falling to his knees and clutching his ruined arm to his chest.
     Caroline snatched his pistol from where it had fallen.
     I flipped the rifle over and gripped it solidly in both hands. Striding over, I took one pitying look at his blood-spattered, furious, agonised face – and swung the rifle butt hard into his head.
     He slumped at my feet, bleeding and still and utterly human.
     The birds took flight from the nearest tree, speckling the sky like ash on snow.
     We stood there, Caroline and me, in stunned and breathless silence, the mist swirling around us and our chests heaving. My boots were covered in blood, my trousers were soaking, my hair plastered to my face and I knew my hands smelt of gunpowder.
     But we'd won.
     Caroline dropped the pistol to the ground and stared at me.
     'Do you always carry a fan with you?' I said, lost for coherent thought.
     She stared at me, similarly at a loss, 'well, you never know how hunts like these are going to go.'
     I laughed. She sobbed. Crossing over, I pulled her into my arms and squeezed, the strong and steady beat of her heart echoing through me and warming me to my very soul. She wrapped her arms around me and buried her face into my coat, shaking and cold and so very very alive.
     'I'm so glad I taught you that move,' I whispered.
     'I told you I was paying attention,' she murmured into my shoulder. 'Thank you.'
     We stayed there for a moment, Beresford's comatose body somewhere in my periphery, and finally all the worry and anger and fear melted away, leaving me fresh as a newborn and oddly vulnerable, while Caroline, the maternal figure I hadn't realised I missed as much as I did, hugged me as tight as I hugged her.
     We only broke away when we heard hooves hammering across the ground towards us and Willoughby, Humphrey, and Grenville, his arm bandaged and strapped to his chest, arrived on the hill with the remaining guards. But Caroline's hand found mine, and she squeezed it tight.
     Willoughby vaulted off his horse and came sprinting over, taking in the scene of me and Caroline tucked close together, a dead guard and an unconscious Beresford at our feet. Ignoring the obvious carnage, he strode over and took my face in one hand, checking me over for injuries and brushing a warm thumb over the blood on my cheek.
     'Are you alright?'
     I laughed, my voice thick with weeks of unshed emotion. 'I got him.'
     His smile was full of relief, 'yes, I can see that.'
     Humphrey ushered Caroline away from us, wrapping her in his coat and handing her what I thought looked suspiciously like a hipflask.
     'How did we miss him?' I stared at Beresford's body as the guards wrapped his slack and ruined arm in bandages and strapped thick handcuffs around his wrists.
     Willoughby's voice was low and calming and seemed to reverberate through the ground and into my core, 'we found one of ours in the woods by the lake. He must have jumped him as they went to investigate the deer, taken his coat and slipped in.'
     'Clever,' I had to admit.
     'Genius,' he agreed. There was a long moment, both of us lost in thought. Then Willoughby's hand slipped into mine and held it to his chest, 'I'm sorry I left you.'
     'What?' I leaned into him despite myself. 'I told you to go.'
     'I know, but I'm sorry nonetheless.'
     'I managed alright.'
     'That's true,' He glanced back again. 'That was quite a shot. Unless you were aiming for his heart, in which case it was terrible and you should never be let near a pistol again.'
     'I think Grenville will be proud of my restraint,' worry set into my stomach again. 'How is he?'
     'The horse landed on his arm – broke a bone just below his elbow. But Humphrey doesn't seem worried.' Willoughby smiled to himself, 'I think he'll enjoy the reputation of being injured in service to the crown.'
     Thank God. We'd made it.
     I rested my forehead against the damp wool of Willoughby's coat and breathed deep, the cool smell of earth and wind and cologne filling my senses and easing all the day's tension.
     We'd made it. Caroline was safe. Willoughby was safe. Grenville would mend and Beresford was caught and we could all go home and just be.
     I breathed a long, wobbling breath. Willoughby rubbed a steady hand over my back and stroked over my hair. The mist was beading on his sleeves and I could feel it on my skin and on Willoughby's hands.
     It felt like renewal.
     Someone cleared their throat delicately and I startled, turning to find Humphrey waiting a few discreet steps away. He looked tired and grim, 'forgive me, Miss Wentworth, Mr Willoughby. But he's awake.'
     Instantly angry again, I shoved my way through the guards, took one look at Beresford's rueful smile, the twitch of his lip and slight raise of his eyebrow – and punched him in the face.
     He fell back, crashing against the legs of one of the guards, who kicked him back up like he was a flea-ridden dog. Slowly getting steady again, he grasped at his bleeding arm, 'I suppose you were entitled to that one.'
     The bastard didn't even have the decency to look scared. I was seething – after everything that had happened. He must know that he'd hang. His days of freedom were certainly over, and I suspected his days living had swiftly been brought into the single figures. Now he was cowed at the mercy of armed guards, one secret agent, and a furious bodyguard in dirty clothes.
     And he didn't even seem nervous.
     'Indulge me,' I said, crouching to his level, 'Why did you and Paulette come here when Paulette was injured.'
     'That bullet you put in him yesterday wasn't going to leave him standing for much longer,' he sneered.
     'Especially not when you force him up a tree, furthering injuring himself, all for a non-existent wage.'
     He glanced up, 'is that defence for a would-be assassin I hear, Miss Wentworth? I'm surprised at you.'
     Willoughby bristled at his tone and the mercenary laughed, 'oh calm down, Prince Charming, I'm the one in cuffs here.'
     'What exactly was your plan?' I leant close, my lip twisting at the filthy, sweat-soaked, bleeding wreck of him. 'It's over, Beresford. We have the contract, you're done. You were done yesterday. Why didn't you just go? Cut your losses and run?'
     He had the nerve to grin at me, 'nice to hear some concern.'
     'Call it professional curiosity.' I sat back on my heels. 'You're a mercenary. As a rule, your kind doesn't tend to stick around once the promise of payment is void.'
     Again, that twitch of his lip, 'Perhaps you are fated to always wonder at that, Miss Wentworth. Enjoy the lifetime of troubling doubt.'
     I scoffed, rising to my feet and stalking away. The guards closed back around him and began attaching his manacles to the chains. It sounded like a death knell, and he hadn't even made it off the scene of the crime.
     Willoughby drew close to my side, 'what are you thinking?'
     Chewing at my lip, I glanced back at Beresford. 'Something doesn't add up.'
     'Again?' He seemed exhausted. 'Kate, we caught him mid-assassination attempt. I'm not sure he could be more guilty.'
     'No, not that, I mean, why were they here? They knew we had the contract – that it was all proven.' I looked up at Willoughby, trying desperately to make him understand. 'So why risk it all when the game was already up?'
     He understood. His forehead smoothed, his jaw clenched, and I heard his fingers brush over his pistol, 'maybe the game wasn't up.'
     Turning sharply on my heel, I stalked back to Beresford, grabbed him by the collar and hauled him close. 'Tell me what's going on.'
     He grinned at me, blood staining his teeth, 'I don't know what you're talking about.'
     'Why did you still carry out the attack? The money's gone – you were never going to get paid for this and you know that.'
     'Did it not occur to you that I might just be full of patriotic fervour?'
     'Not for a second,' my fingers fisted in his collar and he grimaced as I dragged at his arm. 'You'll hang for this.'
     'Perhaps.'
     His tone shook me more than I cared to admit. 'The Prince won't save you from this, Beresford. We have all the evidence, and he won't protect you when he knows he's been caught. He'll let you take the fall for him.'
     Beresford was silent – satisfied.
     Furious all over again, I snapped over my shoulder, 'Grenville, give me the contract.'
     Grenville's eyes slid between me and Willoughby and Caroline.
     Storming over, I jabbed a finger at his chest, 'I don't believe for a moment you left it behind. Hand it over right now.'
     Reluctantly, he nodded to Humphrey, who slid the contract out of his coat pocket. I snatched it and strode over to Beresford, brandishing it in his face. 'This,' I spat, 'is your death warrant. This contract sentences you to treason, and you will hang.'
     He just looked away.
     'So why, when you know we have the evidence, when you know Lynton can't pay you, would you risk it all?'
     His eyes flashed at me. He was suddenly totally still. Darting his eyes between me and the contract in my hand he paused, then sat back, raised his eyebrows, and laughed.
     Beresford laughed.
     It started stilted, almost surprised, then grained traction until he was howling away, shoulders shaking and face raised to the sky.
     I recoiled.
     Something was very very wrong.
     Standing, I stalked away from him and looked hard at the contract again. It was all there – his and Paulette's signatures, the objective, the ludicrous promises of payment, the Devonshire Seal. Everything was laid out there in black and white and wax.
     'Kate – ' Willoughby's voice was warning, nervous.
     'Hang on, I'm thinking.'
     Why would he risk it? Lynton was never going to pay him after he'd been discovered, so why continue?
     And that laugh. That almost baffled, triumphant laugh.
     I ran my thumb over the contract, thoughts whirring in my head. My skin caught on the coin of wax and the indents of the Seal. I swore this design would be seared into my brain, what with this contract and Mother Quinn's cursed copy.
     The only difference was those trailing scratches on either side. In this light they stood out, subtle, yet so deliberate.
     Beresford laughed like he knew a secret.
     And my heart suddenly went cold.
     'Kate?' Willoughby's hand brushed my arm.
     I started, my breath catching.
     He must gave seen my wide, shocked eyes, 'what is it?'
     I was totally still, chest-pounding.
     'Protect the Princess,' I stuffed the contract into my coat pocket and mounted onto the nearest horse. One of the guards protested, Grenville frowned, Caroline looked totally lost, Beresford grinned.
     Willoughby peered up at me, a question already on his lips.
     'I'll send word,' I said.
     Then I kicked the horse into a gallop and powered away, dread following my every step.