A Reformed Rake Read Online Free Page A

looking for you,” said Yves de Bartigues, coming, into the big front room. “Frederick believes it would be wise if you were to learn the oddities of your father’s pistols. That way, if you were ever required to use them again, perhaps you would not shoot the horse?” He chuckled.
    Both unwilling to hurt this lively and happy young man and finding his teasing amusing, Harriet turned, a smile lighting her expression. It faded when she saw that Sir Frederick had silently followed his friend into the room.
    “Do come,” coaxed the younger man. “Monsieur Vaudray has given permission to test your pistols at the back of the garden.”
    He offered his arm and somewhat against her better judgment, Harriet went. After all, she justified herself, Sir Frederick was correct in one respect: she should know how to properly use her father’s guns.
    “Here we are,” said Yves. “You see? Vaudray has put up the targets against that low cliff and has had that table brought out for your powder and shot.” Yves looked around. “Do you need anything else, Frederick? No? Then we are off.”
    “We?” asked Harriet quickly.
    “Mademoiselle de Beaupre has accepted an invitation to join some local young people for a picnic. Do not worry. We will be well chaperoned, and I promise you we’ll not leave the group even for a moment. Mademoiselle will be perfectly safe, I assure you,” he said earnestly.
    “Madame has given her permission,” added Frederick. “They will be within the neighbor’s grounds and Vaudray is sending armed servants to watch unobtrusively.”
    “If Madame has said she may go,” said Harriet, frowning, “then I can have no objections.”
    “Even if you do,” said Frederick softly.
    She flicked a look his way only to wish she had not. He was too charming, too knowing. It wasn’t fair, she thought. Another thought rose to the surface of her mind. If de Bartigues was off with Françoise then she could not, as she’d almost decided to do, tell Sir Frederick she would try the guns another day. If she were to do that, then he might decide to join the picnic party. No, it would be best to pretend an interest in the pistols and keep him here and away from Frani.
    Yves made his adieu and left as Harriet turned to stare at Sir Frederick. He was observing her thoughtfully, and a blush rose up her throat. She put a hand to it. “What do we do?” she asked, gesturing toward the table.
    “First I would like to see you load one.”
    Harriet threw him a look of dislike and moved to the table. Carefully she went through the routine she’d been taught and, with extra gentleness, laid the pistol back on the table. She had discovered the pistols did not have what was called a hair trigger, but they did fire easily, and she had great respect for them. Finished, she looked again at Sir Frederick. He nodded. “My father taught me,” she said.
    “I assumed he did. I merely wished to assure myself that you’d not forgotten how much powder, for instance. Now, will you try that target?” He pointed to the nearest.
    Harriet lifted the gun and extended her arm. She sighted as she’d been taught and carefully squeezed the trigger. The gun jerked.
    “You did that well,” said Frederick.
    Despite herself, Harriet felt a glow at the praise. She turned to reload the gun and found he’d readied the second pistol.
    “Try this one on the second target. We must see if there is a particular pattern after several test shots.”
    “Pattern?”
    “You’ll see.”
    Despite herself, Harriet became interested. She fired each gun several times at the designated target, and then Sir Frederick urged her along the path toward the cliff.
    A touch of chagrin filled her when she neared them. In neither case had she, as she’d thought she’d do, come near the middle. In one case the shots were clustered toward the right side and in the other in the lower right quadrant. “I must truly be out of practice. I was certain I’d done just