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.”

“He knows.”

“But—”

“I said that no one had asked me,” he cut in. “I did not say that I had never offered the information myself.”

“I expect his shot was accidental as well.”

“We were neither of us in our right minds that morning,” he said, his tone utterly devoid of inflection.

She nodded. She didn’t know why; she wasn’t really agreeing to anything. But it felt as if she should respond. It felt as if he deserved a response.

“Nevertheless,” Lord Hugh said, staring straight ahead, “I was the one to call for the duel, and I was the one who shot first.”

She looked down at the table. She did not know what to say.

He spoke again, quietly, but with unmistakable conviction. “I have never blamed your cousin for my injury.”

And then, before she could even think about how to respond, Lord Hugh stood so abruptly that his injured leg bumped into the table, splashing a bit of wine out of someone’s forgotten glass. When Sarah looked up, she saw him wince.

“Are you all right?” she asked carefully.

“I’m fine,” he said in a curt voice.

“Of course you are,” she muttered. Men were always “fine.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he snapped.

“Nothing,” she lied, coming to her feet. “Do you need assistance?”

His eyes blazed with fury that she’d even asked, but just as he started to say, “No,” his cane clattered to the floor.

“I’ll get that for you,” Sarah said quickly.

“I can—”

“I’ve already got it,” she ground out. Good Lord, the man was making it difficult for her to be a considerate human being.

He let out a breath, and then, even though he was clearly loath to do so, he said, “Thank you.”