Scanning those occupying the shooting stalls, his gaze alighted on one dark head. He strolled forward, waiting until his mark discharged his pistol before drawling: "You haven't quite corrected for the kick, brother mine."
Richard turned his head-and raised one brow. "You offering to teach me, big brother?"
Devil's teeth gleamed. "I gave up teaching you years ago-I was thinking more along the lines of a little friendly competition."
Richard grinned back. "A tenner each wafer?"
"Why not just make it a monkey the lot?"
"Done."
In perfect amity, they set to culping wafer after wafer; acquaintances strolled up, making none-too-serious suggestions, to which the brothers replied in like vein. No one, seeing them together, could doubt their relationship. Devil was the taller by an inch or so; although Richard lacked his more developed musculature, much of the difference lay in the four years between them. Their faces, seen separately, were not obviously alike, Devil's features being leaner, harder, more austere, yet when seen side by side, the same patriarchal planes, the same arrogant nose and brow line, the same aggressive chin, were readily apparent.
Standing back to let Richard take his shot, Devil smiled to himself. Other than Vane, who was as familiar as his shadow, no one was closer to him than Richard. Their similarity went deep, much deeper than the physical. Of all the Bar Cynster, Richard was the one he could predict most easily-because Richard always reacted as he did.
The retort of Richard's pistol echoed in the stall; Devil looked up, noting the hole an inch to the left of the target's center. They were using a brace plus one of Manton's specials, wicked, long-barreled specimens. While well balanced, over the distance they were shooting, the longest permitted in the gallery, there was a definite difference between the guns; using the three in rotation meant they had to constantly readjust their aim.
The assistant waiting on them had reloaded the next pistol; Devil weighed it in his hand. Richard shifted positions; Devil swung into place and raised his arm. His shot holed the wafer between the center and Richard's shot.
"Tsk, tsk! Always impulsive, Sylvester-taking a fraction more time would yield a better result."
Richard, who'd been lounging against the stall wall, stiffened, then straightened, his previously relaxed expression leaching to impassivity. He nodded briefly to Charles, then turned to supervise the reloading.
In contrast, Devil's smile broadened wickedly. "As you know, Charles, wasting time's not my style."
Charles's pale lashes flickered; a frown showed fleetingly in his eyes.
Devil noted it; unfailingly urbane, he picked up a freshly loaded pistol. "Care to show us how?" Swinging the gun about, he laid the barrel across his sleeve and presented the butt to Charles.
Charles reached for it-his hand stopped in midair. Then his jaw firmed; wrapping his fingers about the polished butt, he hefted the pistol. Stepping past Devil, Charles took up his stance. He flexed his shoulders once, then lifted his arm. He sighted, taking, as he'd said, only a moment longer than Devil, before firing.
The wafer's center disappeared.
With a sincere "Bravo," Devil clapped Charles on the shoulder. "You're one of the few who can do that intentionally." Charles looked up; Devil grinned. "Care to join us?"
Charles did; despite his initial stiffness, even Richard studied his eldest cousin's style. Shooting was one of the few gentlemanly pursuits Charles shared with the members of the Bar Cynster; pistol shooting was an activity at which he excelled. Charles accepted Devil's easy compliments as his due, but after twenty minutes recalled another engagement and took his leave.
Watching Charles's retreating back, Richard shook his head. "If he wasn't such a prig, he might be bearable."
Devil studied the score sheets. "What's the tally?"
"I lost count when Charles appeared." Richard glanced at the sheets, then grimaced. "You probably won-you usually do."
"Let's declare it a draw." Devil laid the pistols aside. "For me, it served its purpose."
"Which was?" Brows rising, Richard followed Devil from the stall.
"Distraction." With a nod for Manton, who smiled and bowed in return, Devil led the way from the gallery.
Richard ambled in his wake, coming up with him on the pavement. Glancing into Devil's frowning face, Richard raised his brows higher. "Well, you're certainly that."
Devil blinked and focused. "What?"
"Distracted."
Devil grimaced. "It's just that… I've forgotten something-something about Tolly's murder."
Instantly, Richard sobered. "Something important?"