Chapter 13- Take Aim

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Sir Cartwright stayed back from the hunt out of his own volition. Apparently, half a day apart from Miss Whitmore would not suffice. Whispered talks of an imminent betrothal were emerging, much to Constance's delight.

After breakfast, Josephine had written several letters and then took a short walk, passing time by throwing breadcrumbs to greedy little goldfinches.

Outside in the west garden, Josephine joined Sir Cartwright, Constance, Lord Grimsby, Isabella, and Isabella's cousin, Miss Horton. They were all served an elegant noon meal while seated at two wrought iron tables.

They had a clear view of the impending archery effects being set into place. Two targets were set at varying distances. One was situated reasonably close while the other was placed significantly further back. Josephine smirked when she thought of her and Tennyson's competition. If Josephine chose the nearby target, she would surely beat him.

Do I even want to beat him?

If Josephine were to lose, the only punishment was to be a promised first waltz, which hardly seemed a punishment. But on the other hand, she refused to fail purposefully. Josephine decided that using each target with equal frequency would produce the fairest outcome.

"Am I the only one privy to yours and Tennyson's little competition?" Lord Grimsby inquired, standing beside Josephine as she readied her bow. He was clearly amused by the entire situation.

"You are." Josephine stretched back the string in practicing motions, reasoning, "Constance would find the entire thing silly and Isabella would become too enthusiastic, hoping for the humiliating defeat of her brother. So, I gather it best for it to remain our little secret."

"I could not agree more," Lord Grimsby smirked. "Not that it is of importance, but, I hope you beat him spectacularly."

"And why is that?"

"I am not one to disparage a dear friend, but I will warn, Tennyson is not known to be a gracious winner," Lord Grimsby informed, without a touch of malice. "And beside, the man excels at all sport. I suppose you could say that my pride wishes to see him defeated."

"In that case, I will do my utmost to oblige," Josephine beamed at Lord Grimsby, while noticing curious glances from Isabella and Constance. Each observed the shared smiles between Lord Grimsby and Josephine, with conflicting feelings on the matter.

Josephine began with the nearest target, and as Lord Grimsby recorded her succession of bullseyes, it became apparent that she would need to use the furthest target. She was the recipient of much praise and requests to continue, but refused, letting everyone else have their turns.

Lord Grimsby merely spectated. Sir Cartwright and Isabella's cousin, Miss Horton, possessed similar accuracy. Both made great shots, as well as some not so great ones. Isabella and Constance's performances were abominable, but, what they lacked in skill, they made up for in enjoyment. They had permanent grins about their faces, which only grew with each horrific attempt.

The small group were reminiscing about the events of the afternoon, laughing and warmly criticizing each other's performances. Josephine had made five bullseyes on the most difficult target.

"I suggest we move the target even further, and let Miss Yorke have another go at it!" Lord Grimsby announced, while everyone echoed in agreement.

"And why should I?" Josephine asked, sipping her tea. "You all think me skilled, why mar your current opinion by showing off and risking failure?"

"Oh come on," Isabella prodded, grabbing Josephine's tea from her hand, and pulling her to her feet. "Whether you miss or not, we are still impressed with your abilities! Pleeeeaase."

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