Bright sunshine woke Frances later than usual the next morning and she suddenly remembered she had an appointment that afternoon with Lord Carleton at Manton's pistol gallery. She hadn't been intending to keep the appointment, but now she reconsidered. She did not yet know enough about Lady Murray, or her circumstances, to allow her to make any decisions as to her future. However, what with Peter Francis being acquainted with Lord Carleton and Diana Murray becoming fast friends with Sammy Fairfax and Jack Lambert, her future was looking complicated to say the least! 

She dressed hastily in her male attire and went down to breakfast. A quick mental calculation of her remaining funds persuaded her that she would soon need an income. Perhaps she should take up Carleton's offer to introduce her to his club and she could try to win a few guineas! A moments reconsideration warned her how risky that would be, and she put aside the idea regretfully. 

Peter Francis sauntered out of the Pelican shortly after noon and made 'his' way through the narrow streets towards Manton's gallery. She loved walking in London, looking at the shops and stalls and the wide variety of people all going about their business, maids scurrying on messages, busy housewives buying cloth to take home and sew into sturdy waistcoats or pretty dresses, and of course young men of leisure wandering between entertainments. 

Carleton was already there when she arrived, waiting outside the building. He smiled to see her and greeted her almost as an old friend. He led the way, pushing open the heavy door which allowed the noise of pistols exploding and men shouting to rush out into the street. She followed him inside and along a corridor, past a room filled with unruly men, and into a larger, quieter, gallery obviously reserved for the upper classes. On the far side, a young man of about twenty was practising rather erratically, watched by an attendant with a bored eye, but otherwise the room was empty. 

Playing cards were set up near the far wall in various patterns as targets and several weapons were displayed in a locked cabinet near the door for the use of those patrons who had not brought their own. Carleton was carrying a box with two duelling pistols in it. He opened them up for Peter's inspection. "I had them made for me here in London. What do you think? Would you like to try one out?" 

Frances picked up one of the pistols with interest and balanced it in her hand. "Nice," she murmured appreciatively. She held it at arm's length, pointing it down the gallery towards the targets and taking aim. "Yes, I'd like to try one of these, my Lord." Carefully she replaced it in the box and looked at him. 

"But we are competing are we not? In which case I would prefer to use my own. I only have one I am afraid but you are very welcome to use it if you would like to." As she spoke, Frances took a smaller silver plated pistol from an inside coat pocket and handed it to him to inspect. "It's Spanish" she explained. 

"It feels very light," Carleton commented dubiously. 

Frances smiled confidently. "One does not need a cannon to hit the ace of spades, my lord, you'll see." She paused, "Are you a good shot?" 

A little taken aback by her directness, he demurred, "I'm considered a fair shot I believe." 

"Well in that case, as our wager is between friends, shall we say five guineas, my Lord?" 

Carleton frowned, a little offended, "You sound as if you expect me to lose!" he retorted. 

Frances smiled deprecatingly, "Well, you see, I am considered an excellent shot. I wouldn't want to take advantage of our friendship!" 

He regarded her a moment through narrowed eyes, then laughed. "I'll be damned if I know what your lay is, youngster. By all means let it be five guineas if you wish - I'll take you to dinner on it! Best of three?" 

Frances nodded and carefully loaded her pistol "After you, my Lord." 

Carleton loaded both weapons, then chose one and stepped forward to the white line painted across the floor. Put on his mettle by Frances self assurance, he took his time between each shot and placed one hole in the centre and the other two edging the black of the spade. 

"Rather better than fair, sir," remarked Frances drily. 

Watched by a satisfied Carleton and an interested attendant, she took careful aim with her silver pistol and fired off three shots in quick succession, only pausing to reload in between. Carleton saw the single hole in the black and said bracingly, "That one is in the centre at least, not bad for a first attempt." 

Rather to his surprise, Francis looked very pleased with himself, unable to keep a little smile from his lips as he turned to the attendant. "If you would be so good as to bring the card up here?" The man went willingly and Frances looked with slightly guilty apology at Carleton. 

"I am sorry, but when one shows off, it is so good to succeed!" The attendant gave her the card and she passed it to Carleton who held it up to the light. He could see then that the hole was a fraction larger than that made by a single bullet - the youngster had scored three bullseyes in a row! He pursed his lips in a low whistle, "Excellent shooting! Well done, lad!" 

Frances flushed at his praise, "There are only two things that I do well, my Lord, and that is one of them! May I try your pistol now?" Carleton nodded, still impressed. With an unfamiliar weapon, Frances hit wide of the spade at her first shot and clipped the edge of it at her second. "I find it a little heavy after my own. I'd need to practice to be as accurate with it." 

She turned back to Carleton to find that he had been joined by a couple of well dressed gentlemen in buckskins. One was a stranger to her but the other was her dancing partner of the previous night! She fancied he was looking rather closely at her and bent down to return Carleton's pistol to its case. 

"May we join you, Richard?" Lambert was asking. "Harry has a new pair he wants me to try, claims they are the best he's handled." 

Carleton nodded, "Have you met Peter Francis? Jack Lambert and Harry Belmont." They all shook hands. "Harry rather fancies himself as a good shot too, Peter - you two should have a match," Carleton continued slyly. 

Frances shot him a look of reproach but Belmont said eagerly, "What a capital idea!" He reminded her of a young puppy, full of bounce and enthusiasm. Already he was unpacking his precious new guns and running through their points, oblivious that no-one was really listening. 

"What will it be?" Lambert asked Carleton, "Best of five? What about the five of spades then?" 

"What's the wager?" 

Men, thought Frances crossly to herself, everything had to be a wager. "I can't afford more than a few guineas" she spoke up firmly. 

"That's alright," Carleton stepped in smoothly. "I've a hundred here that says you'll win." 

Lambert grinned "Right then, here's another hundred that says he won't. No hard feelings I hope, Francis, but I've seen Harry shoot before." 

"Who will go first?" 

"One after the other? A shot at a time?" 

The two rivals agreed rather dazedly to their sponsors' arrangements. Carleton noticed the serious look on Peter's face and said cheerfully, "Don't worry, lad, it's not your money!" Frances scarcely glanced at him, that's what was making her nervous. 

Harry grinned across at her and fired his first shot into the black of the top left spade. Frances aimed carefully but nerves got the better of her and the resulting hole was at least half into the white. The other man relaxed a fraction and hit the next spade but not quite as neatly as before. Frances shook her head, took two deep breaths to relax her concentration, and shot straight into the centre of her target. Harry followed up with another three good shots but Frances interspersed each with a perfect centre. The attendant went down to the end of the room to collect the cards while Frances and Harry waited anxiously. 

Lambert and Carleton studied the two records closely. "What do you think? This one is a bit out but all the others are dead on target. These are close, though not completely in the middle - bad luck, Harry," Lambert concluded eventually, "but I think Francis has beaten you. Here, see for yourself."  

Belmont glanced at the cards then said generously, "Yes indeed. The first shot was obviously a slip. Damned fine shooting, Francis." He held out his hand and Frances shook it firmly, flushing a little with self consciousness.  

"Good of you," she murmured. She offered her pistol for his inspection. "Like to try?" 

He took it with interest and for the next few minutes they exchanged avid information and ideas on what made the best weapon, Harry agreeing that hers certainly seemed to have a true line. 

Carleton looked at the two heads close together with an odd twinge of jealousy. Nonsense, he told himself, the lad's got a right to more friends than just you. He took the money Lambert was cheerfully paying out with some satisfaction - it was a while since he had got the better of Jack in a sporting venture. 

"Here you are, Peter, half of this should be yours," he handed him fifty guineas and smilingly ignored his half-hearted protest. The four of them spent a further half hour at the pistol range practising and trying to persuade Francis to show them some trick shots. Eventually Lambert remembered that he was engaged for dinner that night on the other side of town and had to leave. Belmont also made his farewells after extracting a promise from Frances to meet him at the gallery again the next day.