with her, much to Lady Duxbury’s ire. Even now, the countess was glowering at her.
Ignoring the barbed looks, she turned her attention back to Von Seilig. His dry wit and inquisitive mind defied the preconceived notion that all Germans were dull and humorless. He was well-read and his knowledge of plants was particularly impressive. The harsh climate of the Baltic coast did not allow much latitude for fieldwork.
But the colonel’s hidden facets were not the only surprise. Kate angled a glance around the lawns, looking for the bearish bulk of her grandfather among the other guests awaiting their turn to shoot. Oddly enough, he was nowhere to be seen. He had been conspicuously absent at the outdoor nuncheon as well.
It wasn’t like Cluyne to duck his duty as a host.
Twang. An arrow whizzed through the air.
But perhaps it was her own judgments that were sailing wide of the mark.
“Bull’s-eye!” called Marco from his perch atop the terrace railing. “Come Vronskov, can you match that?”
The Russian made a haughty face and waved off the challenge. “I am not a Cossack. Such sport is too primitive for me.”
“I have no such qualms.” Tappan removed his coat and stepped to the line.
“That is because you sturdy English yeomen are renowned for your prowess as archers,” called Marco with a waggish grin. “Have a care, Rochambert—remember Agincourt!”
Lady Caroline’s loud laugh provoked a tight-lipped glare from the Frenchman.
Kate refused to join in the laughter. Lud, was the man always seeking to stir up trouble? What a foolish question. He seemed to seize every opportunity of getting under someone’s skin.
Which begged the question of what he intended to do about Naples. A prickling teased at the nape of her neck, like tiny knifepoints teasing against her flesh. She didn’t dare think of what damage he could do. A whisper or two was all it would take…
“Alas, I am afraid we may have to end our archery competition early.” Tappan displayed the limp cord, which had slipped loose from the bow. “The notch has worn away on one of the ends,” he explained after a closer inspection. “I don’t think a new knot will hold.”
“That should not be too difficult to repair.” Kate automatically reached into the hidden pocket sewn into her skirts. Old habits died hard—she never went anywhere without her knife. It was crafted with a silver handle, semiprecious stones, and a blade of Toledo steel. Lovely, but lethal, the weapon had been a birthday gift from her father, who had also taught her how to use it. He believed that a female ought to be able to defend herself from any danger.
She rose. “May I have a look?”
Quirking a wry smile at the flash of steel, the baron handed it over. “I am not inclined to argue.”
With a few quick strokes, she cut a groove into the wooden tip and shaved away the rough edges. “Try that.”
“You are very adept at handling that blade,” observed Tappan. “Most ladies wouldn’t know one end of a dagger from the other.”
Kate gave herself a mental kick. Such skills would only stir up more gossip about her eccentricities. “I often sailed with my father, and on board a ship one learns to be handy with a number of tools.”
“I commend you for your cleverness, Miss Woodbridge,” said Tappan. “That is an unusual design. May I see it?”
“My father had it made for me in Spain,” she murmured, reluctantly handing it over.
“It’s quite lovely.” Von Seilig came over to admire the workmanship. “The hilt is very distinctive. It is silver, is it not? And the stones look to be a very fine grade of turquoise.”
“They are from Persia. Father found them in a bazaar in Barcelona and had a silversmith craft it from a sketch he made.”
“Was your father an artist, Miss Woodbridge?” inquired the colonel.
Actually, he was more of a pirate, thought Kate with an inward grimace. But that wasn’t something she was about to admit in polite company. “My father possessed a great many talents.”
“So it would seem.” Tappan hefted its weight, admiring the perfect balance before handing it back. “Do have a care. The blade is razor-sharp, and I’d hate to see any blood spilled.”
Kate slipped the dagger into its leather sheath. “I know how to handle a weapon, and as you can see, I am very careful with it.”
Inclining a gentlemanly bow of thanks, the baron tested the bowstring and then took his shot. The arrow nicked the outer circle, drawing a round of light