The Duke's Affair

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Henry felt the shotgun recoil into his shoulder as he pulled the trigger. The shot wasn't clean and feathers burst in the air like a cloud before the bird fell to the damp earth with a thud. Its wings fluttered as it struggled to move in the last moments of life.

"Good shot," said Annabel, who stood behind him. He only just made out the words; his ear defenders sealed out most noise. But he caught enough to know that she meant to compliment him, which irked him. It had been a mediocre shot at best. His aim had been off all day; and yet, just as his irritation was peaking, it occurred to him that perhaps she was being kind, because a better opportunity for praise was unlikely to occur.

Up on the crest of the hill he saw the beaters' white flag, signalling the end of the shoot. He slipped off his ear defenders and listened to the sound of the whistle blowing, and watched as the dogs scampered into the undergrowth to collect the birds.

To his left on the next peg George was picking up his cartridge bag, Emily standing nearby in a black fur hat, Wellington boots and a dark coloured jacket. Down the line to his right was Marcus Bonham who was standing with his loader, his rotund stomach swathed in tweed.

The light was fading and Henry wanted to get inside; he had had enough for the day. He handed his gun to his loader and slipped a silver hip flask from his pocket and unscrewed the lid.

"What's in it?" asked Annabel.

Henry peered at her over the silver of the flask that he held to his mouth. "Sloe gin," he said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and passing the flask to her. "Taste it."

"I've had sloe gin before," she said, raising it to her lips, a twinkle in her eye as she watched him while she drank. He found her flirtatious over familiarity irritating, but he was making a conscious effort not to take his frustration out on the new girl. It wasn't her fault that she wasn't Lauren, nor was it her fault that she had ended up being her replacement. She was, when it came down to it, a sweet girl.

Together they turned and headed back up the hill towards where the vehicles were parked. Just ahead of them Henry could see Aurelia talking with Emily. It was his sister's day out from the clinic, but Henry hadn't wanted to cancel the shoot, so he had invited her along. Which was probably an error, given the copious amounts of alcohol that were consumed on a shooting weekend.

"Henry, could I have word?" Marcus tottered up the incline, wobbling like a weeble. He was panting with the effort of trying to catch up with them.

"Would you mind leaving us, Annabel?" He made sure to keep his voice soft, so she wouldn't think he was dismissing her of his own choice. She nodded and made her way up the hill, her jacket tight over her thin frame as she pulled down on the pockets, rushing to catch up with Emily and Aurelia.

"There's something not right," said Marcus, rocking back and forth on the spot holding his belly with both hands. Henry stopped; he didn't want the poor man to have a heart attack.

"With what?" he asked. He felt conspicuously tall standing next to Marcus and he slouched.

"Lydia Tybell . She's been calling my secretary. Saying she's got something. Something big."

Henry's heart sputtered like a failing motor; so it wasn't just him that Lydia was after. "She can't have anything substantial. She's probably just trying to scare you."

"But has she called you? You know her, can't you do something?"

Henry took another sip of the sloe gin and handed the flask to Marcus. "She hasn't called me," he lied.

"Can you find out what she's up to? I don't like it, not one bit."

Henry increased his speed, forcing Marcus to jog along beside him. "I don't like the sound of it either, but what can Lydia Tybell do to us? You don't need to worry about her," he said. He wasn't going to let Marcus spoil his day with talk of Lydia Tybell. He sighed; Lydia who had Lauren in her clutches.