And Tester only knew where that would have led!

“Hello, Honor,” White Haven said, and waved a hand at the perforated target. “I never could shoot that well myself,” he went on. “Did you ever consider trying out for the marksmanship team when you were a middy?”

“Hello, Hamish,” Lady Harrington responded, and held out her hand. The Earl took it, but rather than shake it in the Manticoran fashion, he raised it and brushed his lips across it as a Grayson might have done. He’d spent long enough on Grayson to make the gesture completely natural looking, but the faintest hint of a blush painted the Steadholder’s cheekbones.

“In answer to your question,” she went on a moment later, her voice completely normal as she reclaimed her hand, “yes. I did consider trying out for the pistol team. The rifle team never really interested me, I’m afraid, but I’ve always enjoyed hand weapons. But I was just getting really into the coup at that point, and I decided to concentrate on that, instead.” She shrugged. “I grew up in the Sphinx bush, you know, so I was already a pretty fair shot when I got here.”

“I suppose that’s one way to put it,” White Haven agreed dryly, picking up the target and raising it to look at her through the hole blown in its center. “My own athletic endeavors were a bit more pacific than yours.”

“I know.” She nodded and gave him one of the crooked smiles enforced by the artificial nerves in her left cheek. “I understand you and Admiral Caparelli had quite a soccer rivalry during your time on the Island.”

“What you understand is that Tom Caparelli kicked my aristocratic backside up one side of the field and down the other,” the Earl corrected, and she chuckled.

“That might be true, but I’ve become far too diplomatic to put it quite so frankly,” she told him.

“I see.” He lowered the target, and the humor in his expression faded just a bit. “Speaking about being diplomatic, I’m afraid I didn’t hunt you up here in your hidey hole just to enjoy your company. Not,” he added, “that your company isn’t always a pleasure.”

“You’re not too shabby as a diplomat yourself,” she observed, and anyone but Andrew LaFollet might not even have noticed the very slight edge which had crept into her voice.

“Decades spent as the brother of an ambitious politician do that to you,” White Haven assured her easily. “In fact, the reason I came looking for you was that the aforesaid ambitious politician and I spent most of the morning together.”

“Ah?” Lady Harrington cocked an eyebrow at him.

“I had to fly into Landing on business anyway,” the Earl explained, “so I dropped by to see Willie… who happened to have just returned from Mount Royal Palace.”

“I see.” The Steadholder’s tone had suddenly become far more neutral, and she ejected the magazine from her pistol, released the slide, and tucked the weapon into the fitted recess in its case.