A Week to Be Wicked (Spindle Cove #2)(62)
Author: Tessa Dare

The woman’s eyes flared with greed, but her mouth was firm. “It’s not for sale.”

“I’ll have a go, then.” A well-dressed young gentleman stepped to the fore. He looked to be the local version of a dandy—probably the son of some country squire, unleashed on the fair with a generous allowance of pocket money and an inflated sense of self-importance. He was flanked by a couple of friends, both of whom looked eager to be amused.

“Sorry, gents.” The stout woman crossed her arms. “This booth is closed.”

“Pity,” said the suave-looking young gentleman, casting a superior glance at Colin. “I’d rather looked forward to showing this fellow up.”

His friends laughed. Meanwhile, the children gathered around Colin, as if they’d claimed him for their own and must come to his defense. It was terribly sweet.

“Well,” said Colin amiably, “you’re still welcome to have a go. If it’s a contest of marksmanship you’re after, one can be arranged. With targets and pistols, perhaps?”

Excitement whispered through the assembled children. Apparently, the promise of a shooting match was an effective balm to their disappointed pineapple hopes.

The young man looked Colin up and down, smirking. “I warn you, I’m the best shot in the county. But if you insist, I should be glad to trounce you.”

“Then you should be glad to take my money, too. Let’s place a wager on it.”

“Absolutely. Name your bet.”

Colin rummaged through his pockets, and Minerva grew alarmed. He might well be an excellent shot, but surely he wouldn’t risk all their money.

“Five pounds,” Colin said.

Five pounds?

“Five pounds?” the young gentleman echoed.

Minerva couldn’t help herself. She went to his side, whispering, “Five pounds? Are you mad? Where do you mean to come up with five pounds?”

“Here.” From his innermost pocket, Colin drew a small, folded square of paper. “Just found it in my coat pocket. Must have been there for months. I’d forgotten it.”

She unfolded the paper and adjusted her spectacles. It was indeed a bank note for five pounds.

Five pounds. All this time she’d been fretting over how to stretch their shillings and pence, and he’d been carrying five pounds in his pocket. The impossible knave.

“You can’t risk this,” she whispered. “It’s—”

“It’s a wager.” The dandy pulled out a coin purse and shook loose five sovereign pieces. He dumped them into Minerva’s hand. “Five pounds.”

Oh dear. She didn’t have a good feeling about this.

They made a veritable parade, the whole group of them trooping to the edge of the fairgrounds, where a shooting contest could safely be staged. Dusk was gathering by the time a straw-stuffed target had been mounted, and a sizable crowd had amassed to watch—not just the children, but adults, too.

“One shot each,” the overconfident dandy said, tilting his head toward the bull’s-eye lodged in the center of a freshly plowed field. “Closest to center wins.”

“Sounds fair,” Colin said. “You first.”

The younger man made a show of cleaning and loading his expensive, polished double-barreled pistol. It was a Finch pistol, Minerva noted with some amusement. Her friend Susanna would have a good laugh at that.

With pomp and an undue air of gravity, the self-styled dandy leveled his pistol and made his shot. A dark circle appeared on the target, several inches left of center.

The younger man accepted the smattering of applause with a bow. Minerva rolled her eyes. The ladies of Spindle Cove could shoot better than that.

Surely Colin could, as well.

For once, Colin didn’t attempt any showmanship. He merely shook off his coat and swept a hand through his wavy hair. And those two small gestures were enough to make him the desire of every woman, the envy of every man, and the idol of every child in attendance. Good heavens, he was beautiful.

She was so dazzled by his good looks, Minerva nearly forgot to work herself into a state of sheer anxiety. Before she knew it, he’d stepped up, leveled the pistol, and made his shot. As the smoke cleared, she whipped off her spectacles to stare at the target.

Dead center, of course.

The children went wild with whoops and hollers. A few of the older boys tried, unsuccessfully, to lift Colin on their shoulders for a victory salute.

And Minerva curled her fingers over the small fortune in her hands. Ten pounds. Ten pounds changed everything. Now they were truly back on schedule. They would make it to Edinburgh. Francine would have her day.

When Colin untangled himself from the jubilant children and turned to her, grinning . . . oh, she could have kissed him. Right in front of all these people.

But the defeated dandy wanted words with him first.

“You’re a cheat.” The young man stared Colin down. “I don’t know what kind of swindler you are, but my father’s the magistrate in these parts. I think he’ll need to have a talk with you. And that five-pound note will need to come along, as evidence. Surely you’ve stolen it.”

Stepping back casually, Colin slid his arms into his coat sleeves. “I don’t want any trouble.”

The man’s friend stepped forward, brandishing a fist. “Well, you’ve found some.”

Minerva knew that in a fistfight Colin could take one or both of these young men easily. But if the dandy were truly a magistrate’s son, a brawl would be a very bad idea.

And must they always flee a scene in the mayhem of violence and rioting? Could they walk away just this once, with ten pounds in their pocket and some levity in their step? Just this once?

“Listen,” Colin said, clapping each man on the shoulder. “Perhaps you’re right, and it wasn’t very sporting of me. But surely we can settle this without involving magistrates. How about this—just to prove I’m a decent fellow, I’ll give you a chance to win it all back. Double or nothing.”

The dandy sneered at him. “If you think I’m going to—”

“No, no,” Colin replied, speaking in a smooth, conciliatory tone. “Not you and me. We’ll have our seconds shoot it out. Your man here”—Colin tapped the friend on the shoulder—”against my girl.” He looked to Minerva.

Oh, no. Colin, don’t do this to me.

“Against your girl?” The dandy chuckled.

“She’ll even remove her spectacles.” Colin raised open hands in a gesture of surrender. “I told you, I don’t want trouble. You can lead me away in shackles and throw me in the stocks, but you won’t get any richer. There’s five pounds in it for you this way.”