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with so little fuss made in her life. She savored her new friend’s casual attitude both toward knives and the blood they drew. Catherine did not live in a world where such things as bloody knives existed, especially for a lady. To enter a world in which they did, even for the space of an hour, was the most exciting thing she had ever done.
    Spending time with Mary Elizabeth would never be dull, it seemed.
    The small blade in her hand was perfectly balanced for a woman’s strength. It seemed that Mary Elizabeth’s father had had them made for her, and her brother Robert had taught her how to use them. Catherine could barely imagine what it might be like to have an older brother, much less one who offered to tutor a young lady in the use of knives, but it seemed the Waters clan took self-defense very seriously indeed.
    Catherine had been throwing knives at the wooden board set up for that purpose in the Duchess of Northumberland’s ballroom for almost an hour. She had lost all track of time as she looked from the blade in her hand to the target before her and let her knife fly. Amazingly enough, she had discovered, much to her pleasure, that she was very good at it.
    â€œWell done, Catherine. One more and then I will feed you more tea sandwiches. Or perhaps you and your family might stay to dinner. God knows the duchess keeps enough food on her table to feed an army.”
    Catherine smiled and did not reply. She cast her last knife at the wooden board, hitting the center of the bull’s-eye, which in this case was the outline of a somewhat menacing ruffian. Someone, Catherine suspected Mary Elizabeth, had drawn a jaunty top hat on him to indicate his Englishness.
    â€œI must applaud your efforts, Miss Middlebrook. It seems you have killed our pirate outright with a clean blow to the heart.”
    The hot, honeyed tones of Alexander Waters’s voice seemed to caress her, and she felt her cursed blush rise into her cheeks unbidden. Her stays were too tight suddenly, as if she had run a mile, though she rarely walked anywhere in her life save to church when they were home in Devon.
    â€œDon’t devil her, Alex. She’s a prodigy. It seems our girl here has a bloodthirsty streak.”
    Catherine swallowed hard in an effort to find her voice. “I am sure I would never be able to throw a blade at an actual person. I would be horrified to draw blood.”
    Mary Elizabeth dismissed those words with one wave of her hand, and went to collect the knives sticking out of the board. “Nonsense. You would kill a man to keep him from killing you.”
    â€œI am not certain I would,” Catherine said. She felt Mr. Waters’s eyes still heavy on her, like a warm blanket before a roaring fire. She was sure that in a moment she would begin to perspire from the heat of his gaze alone, and humiliate herself completely.
    â€œI have seen you with your mother and your sister. If you’ll marry to protect them, you’d kill a man to do so. Taking one more evildoer out of the world would be no great loss. Not compared to giving up the rest of your life to a husband,” Mary Elizabeth said.
    Catherine choked on nothing, unable to reply. She wished herself dead in that moment, or perhaps shrunk to the size of a mouse, that she might scurry into the wainscoting and disappear completely.
    â€œNow you stop deviling our guest, Mary. You’ve made her blush and swallow her tongue both within the space of three minutes. You had best take yourself downstairs and leave the putting away of these knives to me.”
    Mary Elizabeth stared at her brother as if trying to discern something in his face. “You may lock them up again, but I have the key, you know.”
    â€œAnd I know a good locksmith. Downstairs you go.”
    Mary Elizabeth flounced to the doorway, and Catherine, still silent, moved to follow her. She stopped when she felt the heat of Alexander’s leather-gloved hand on her