Sarah felt her mouth tighten. Was he trying to make her feel like a heel? If there were any official society rules for how a gentlewoman was meant to behave with a partially crippled man, they had not been taught to her. She was fairly certain, however, that she was supposed to pretend that she did not notice his infirmity.

Unless he required assistance. In which case she was supposed to notice his limp, because it would be unforgivably insensitive to stand aside and watch him flounder. But either way, she probably wasn’t supposed to ask questions.

Such as why he couldn’t bend his leg.

But still. Wasn’t it his duty as a gentleman not to make her feel awful about it when she flubbed?

Honoria owed her one for this. Honoria probably owed her three.

Three of what, she wasn’t sure, but something large. Something very large.

They sat there for another minute or so, then Hugh said, “I don’t think your sister is coming back with cake.” He motioned very slightly with his head. Frances was waltzing with Daniel. The expression on her face was one of utter delight.

“He has always been her favorite cousin,” Sarah remarked. She still wasn’t really looking at Hugh, but she sort of felt him nod in agreement.

“He has an easy way with people,” Hugh said.

“It is a talent.”

“Indeed.” He took a sip of his wine. “One that you possess as well, I understand.”

“Not with everyone.”

He smiled mockingly. “You refer to me, I presume.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say, Of course not, but he was too intelligent for that. Instead she sat in stony silence, feeling very much like a fool. A rude fool.

He chuckled. “You should not chastise yourself for your failure. I am a challenge for even the most affable of people.”

She turned, staring at his face with utter confusion. And disbelief. What sort of man said such a thing? “You seem to get on well with Daniel,” she finally replied.

One of his brows rose, almost like a dare. “And yet,” he said, leaning slightly toward her, “I shot him.”

“To be fair, you were dueling.”

He almost smiled. “Are you defending me?”

“No.” Was she? No, she was simply making conversation. Which, according to him, she was supposed to be good at. “Tell me,” she said, “did you mean to hit him?”

He froze, and for a moment Sarah thought she’d gone too far. When he spoke, it was with quiet amazement. “You are the first person ever to ask me that.”

“That can’t be possible.” Because really, didn’t everything hinge on that one detail?

“I don’t believe I realized it until this moment, but no, no one has ever thought to ask if I meant to shoot him.”

Sarah held her tongue for a few seconds. But only just. “Well, did you?”

“Mean to shoot him? No. Of course not.”

“You should tell him that.”