Page 32 of The Unfortunate Debutante
Adrien chimed in. “You’re throwing the dagger with too much force. Just a moderate throw will be sufficient if you have the correct stance and grip.”
She glanced over her shoulder to look at the target. “I have been trying to hit the target all morning with a single rotation dagger throw.”
“Would you like to try again?” Eliza asked as she handed her another dagger. “Don’t fret. It will just take time. A single rotation throw is much more difficult than the half rotation throw.”
Relaxing her stance, Emma gripped the dagger at its hilt and eyed the target. She threw it with moderate force and was rewarded when it hit the tree, albeit not on target. In response, she jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “I hit the tree!”
“Well done, Emma,” Eliza praised. “Now, go collect the daggers and join us for breakfast.”
Emma practically skipped the ten feet towards the cluster of trees. She had been practicing all morning and discovered that throwing daggers did not come easily to her. It required a lot of concentration, but she had to keep her body relaxed. Frankly, it didn’t make a lot of sense. But that didn’t matter, because she’d finally hit the tree on a single rotation toss.
Reaching down, she picked up the three daggers and then proudly retrieved the dagger sticking out of the tree. She hurried back towards the veranda and placed the daggers on the table.
“May I come back tomorrow for more practice?” she asked as she stepped over to the buffet table.
Eliza sat down on a chair. “You are always welcome, you know that.”
Her back was to the group as she placed food onto her plate. “I am grateful for this training, especially after I was forced to hit a man in the face with my pistol,” she shared, placing a piece of toast on her plate.
Her words were met with a deafening silence. She turned towards the group, and they were all staring at her.
Benedict was the first to speak, and his words were slow and deliberate. “Why did you have to hit a man in the face with a pistol?”
Emma scrunched her nose. Perhaps telling them that detail had been unwise. Everyone’s eyes tracked her as she walked over to the table. “I went to a public house in hopes of securing an interview with a member of an Anti-Corn Law rebel group.” She smiled victoriously. “And I was successful.”
Eliza’s lips parted. “What were you thinking? It’s never safe for a woman to be anywhere near a public house, especially a refined lady.”
Sitting down in the chair, she began to defend herself. “I just went into The Tubby Wench…”
“The Tubby Wench?” Adrien groaned, speaking over her. “That is a hotbed of criminal activity.”
With a clench jaw, Benedict asked, “Where was Wentworth?”
“Who?” she asked.
His frown deepened. “Lord Wentworth. The Bow Street Runner assigned to protect you.”
“I thought his name was Simeon Martin?”
Benedict nodded. “It is. But he is also the Viscount of Wentworth.” He eyed her curiously. “Did he not inform you of that?”
“No, he did not,” she murmured, feeling a bit uneasy discovering that piece of information had not been revealed to her. If he was lying about his title, what else was Mr. Martin lying about?
Adrien placed the plate down on the table and sat down. “Regardless, where was Martin when this all happened?”
“Right next to me,” she answered.
Eliza’s brow lifted. “He went with you into the public house?”
She shook her head. “No, not exactly. I climbed over Mrs. Gupper’s stone wall, walked the few blocks to the public house, went in, and met my contact. I had failed to notice that Mr. Martin had followed me. When I realized he was there, he offered to escort me home.”
Eliza’s gaze grew stern. “That was a foolhardy thing to do, Emma. You could have been killed… or worse.”
Lowering her gaze towards her lap, she nodded her understanding. It hadn’t been entirely wise on her part, and it could have ended much differently if Mr. Martin hadn’t intervened when he had.
Adrien chuckled, breaking up the tension. “Who would have thought that our sweet Emma had it in her to walk brazenly near the rookeries.”
“I, for one, did not,” Benedict said, turning his head towards the lawn. “If we hurry and eat breakfast, we could practice some more defensive moves before you leave.”
