𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒

Chapter 5

"IT IS QUITE ODD I DARE SAY, to find pheasants this time around," Lord Oscar Seymour observed, as he made his way alongside his friend and companion, as both the gentlemen, followed by some footmen and their hunting equipment, navigated the thick snow covered grounds of Wycombe house on foot. Lord Beresford, the down to earth gentleman he was, preferred that they both get some exercise, despite how ridiculous the notion was to Oscar. Sometimes, Oscar was grateful for his friend's recklessness, but at present he wasn't planning on warming up to it, "Either the creatures are daft or they've forgotten where their loyalties lie."  

Jack Beresford laughed, his attention partly fixed on his steps, yet vastly fixed on his friend, "It is strange, but then again, there are always pheasants at Wycombe. I should gather they love this place more than I do." 

After making their way through the treacherous grounds, as Oscar had commented, Jack decided on a perfect spot for them to begin their hunt. A blanket of snow, thick enough for Oscar's shoes to partially submerge, but thin enough for a pheasant to be fully seen, lay at their feet. The sky above them was clear yet dark, as though after a storm. Oscar shrugged nonchalantly at his observance of the sky. Southampton weathers were always ridiculous. He'd rather the sky and the ground sit together for tea and have a meeting to agree on common grounds, but much to his dismay, both of them were always at odds. 

A shot echoed in the air, and Oscar's attention was immediately diverted to his friend, who had already begun the hunt. "Come on, Oscar. You should look a fool were I to show you up with more pheasants," Jack taunted, his sharp focus on his target, a dark pheasant visibly moving in the snow a few feet ahead.  

Oscar huffed, as he undid a few buttons at his sleeve cuffs. Then he turned to a footmen, who held out a hunting rifle. It was true that Oscar might as well be doing anything else, but if he were to participate, there wasn't to be a chance he'd let Lord Beresford show him up. Healthy competition was a good thing after all, considering of course if Oscar had won.  

They shot and they shot, both men laughing and challenging each other at every turn. Oscar felt his breathing heave, his heart pounded with the adrenaline rush in his veins. He had gulped too much of the winter air that his throat felt as though he had swallowed ice and had somehow had it stuck in place. He laughed. He had five pheasants down, and Jack had seven, he wasn't going to let no one show him up. With another jolt of determination, Oscar aimed at another pheasant he spotted, only to have his rifle slam alongside Jack Beresford's. 

"I see. Same target, huh," Lord Beresford laughed, his focus fixed on his own aim. The two rifles pointed in the same direction, at an unsuspecting dark creature nibbling away at something or the other it had found in the tuft of grass poking through the snow. 

"You should let me have it," He spoke again, his tone full of amusement. 

"I shouldn't," Oscar chuckled teasingly, "After all, it was my target first." 

"Is that how it is for you?" Jack mocked, "Real gentlemen earn what they want. They don't simply have a right to it just because they saw it first." 

Oscar pressed his lips together, internally cursing himself for bringing up the I saw it first argument. Surely his Aunt, Lady Charlotte Allan's children were having unnecessary lasting effects on his judgement. 

"I don't have to earn what is destined for me," He jeered, letting out a shaky laugh as the cold air built up in his throat. 

Jack laughed again, then he slowly added, "You seemed quite taken with my cousin, Lady Embry." 

"What?" Oscar let out, instantly losing focus as his rifle lowered. At that moment, Jack fired his shot. The pheasant froze in its spot, before falling in a heap seconds after.