“I have never done this,” she said flatly to her friend.
Anthea’s eyes lit with unmistakable opportunity.
“Then this is the perfect time.”
“It is not!”
“It is,” Anthea insisted, already turning. “Your Grace?”
The Duke looked up from examining a bow.
“Yes.”
“Cassandra has never tried archery,” Anthea said. “I thought you might be willing to instruct her.”
Cassandra shot her a look of pure betrayal. His Grace considered this, his gaze shifting to Cassandra with a glint she did not trust.
“Very well.”
“I did not agree,” Cassandra said quickly.
“You will soon enough,” Anthea replied cheerfully. “I shall leave you to it.”
And with that, she retreated, entirely too pleased with herself. Cassandra crossed her arms, wondering if her friend intended to do this each time they spoke.
“You do realize that I will be terrible.”
“Most people are at first,” the Duke said. “Come here.”
She did so reluctantly. He selected a bow, testing its tension before handing it to her.
“This is not about strength. It is about balance and focus.”
“I possess neither under duress.”
He ignored that, continuing on.
“Your stance should be firm. Feet shoulder-width apart.”
She attempted it, immediately feeling foolish.
“Relax your shoulders,” he said, stepping closer. “You are bracing as though the target might attack you.”
“I would not put it past it.”
The corner of his mouth twitched.
He took a bow himself.
“Watch me.”
He demonstrated smoothly. The arrow struck close to the center with satisfying certainty. Cassandra simply stared.
“Of course you are good at this.”
“It would be inconvenient if I were not, for then I could not assist you.”
He handed the bow back.
