Chapter Seven #2
Awareness arrived, and Audrey bolted upright, shoving forcibly against a well-defined shoulder, to send her attacker tumbling over to land hard on his backside, while she scrambled backwards on all fours, like a crab, to place distance between her and the man who had dared to intrude upon her privacy by entering her uncle’s house without permission.
Having righted herself successfully, she stood to look upon a familiar face.
“What are you doing here, my lord?” she demanded.
She caught up her abandoned rapier and pointed it at his chest as he rose slowly, hands up in surrender.
“I did not mean to frighten you,” Lord Marksman said in encouraging tones. “I was worried for your safety.”
Audrey assumed a more aggressive stance. “As you may observe, I am perfectly well. Now, I must ask you to leave the way you came.”
His lordship shook off the idea. “I fear I cannot comply. We have much of which to speak.”
“Then call at a proper hour.” She extended the rapier in a menacing manner. “I insist you depart immediately or I shall set up an alarm.” Audrey’s attention remained completely on him and her hand on the weapon held steady.
“We both know your uncle and cousin have departed England, leaving you behind. Moreover, there are no servants to assist you.” He smiled softly. “I have been through the house, searching for you. We are quite alone.”
She inched the rapier closer to his chest. Instead of acknowledging the truth of his words, she announced, “I shall not permit you to take me without a fight, my lord. I shall never submit to you.”
He carefully shifted his weight away from the tip of the weapon she held. “You misunderstand,” he said cautiously. “I would never harm even a hair upon your head. I mean to offer you my protection. As Marksman, I can warrant you will never want for anything.”
“I have no need of your protection, my lord,” she declared boldly, despite her uncertainty. “My uncle means to return for me.”
His lordship countered, “Honfleur has left you in a house with no servants, little food, and an angry landlord demanding his rents.”
Her eyes widened as the realization of truth settled in for the briefest of moments before she countered, “How are you so knowledgeable of my uncle’s business?”
“Is it not apparent I have made inquiries into Lord Honfleur’s affairs?” he announced.
“Then the dance we shared was for you to learn more of my uncle’s presence in England?” she accused.
Lord Marksman smiled. “Although I do not regret our dance, for it brought you into my life, at that time, it was not my intention to make myself known to you. However, when I noted Lord Bacggart’s advances, I intervened.
I would not have you suffer Bacggart’s attentions.
More importantly, even with my first look upon your person, I recognized a connection between us. Can you deny it?”
“I do,” she said with a lift of her chin.
The young earl chuckled. “The manner in which your eyes opened wider says you offer me an untruth, my dear.”
“It does not matter what I supposedly felt or did not feel. I know only regret for participating in your ploy. Under the circumstances, I had considered your actions providential, but I have been proven a fool.” She gave the blade a slight flick to indicate she wished him to move towards the door.
“I shall repeat my instructions, sir. Turn around slowly and cross to the stairs. I shall escort you from my uncle’s house and release you from any obligation you believe you owe me.
” Her stance grew more hostile. “I insist you lead, my lord.” She nodded in the direction of the still open door. “After you, Lord Marksman.”
“I fear I cannot acquiesce,” he said with emphasis. “I came to this house this evening with a specific purpose in mind. I refuse to leave until I am satisfied you have a better understanding of our relationship.”
She skillfully flicked the lapel of his jacket with the tip of the rapier before bringing it to rest under his chin.
“You provide me no choice, my lord.” She gently tapped his chin with the rapier’s tip.
“Turn and walk away. I have no desire to bring you harm; yet, such will not keep me from slitting your throat, my lord.”
“As you wish,” he said before taking a large step back. Then another. And another. “You have convinced me; you will not permit me to explain why I risked so much to enter this house to speak to you.”
She edged forward, trailing him.
Lord Marksman glanced over his shoulder to know with confidence he would not trip over the various boxes and weapons scattered about the space.
“What if I challenged you to a fight? Not to the death,” he was quick to say. “If you win, I will leave and never bother you again,” he declared, though she doubted the truth of his words.
“And if you win?” she asked with a lift of her brows in challenge.
His lordship appeared to enjoy her daring. “You will listen to my tale—a quarter hour is all I ask. Then, if you still wish me to leave, I will comply and without a protest.”
Audrey knew she should not trust Lord Marksman, but privately she wanted to believe he was more than some dastardly cur. Even so, she did not permit her guard to falter. “I choose none of the above,” she declared. “You will leave me and mine as you found them.”
“My intention was to do nothing less,” he said cryptically.
She ignored the desire to ask him for an explanation. Instead, she said, “I insist you leave, my lord. Turn slowly and walk towards the door.”
He nodded what appeared to be his agreement. Yet, as he turned, he said, “I have made you uncomfortable. Such was never my purpose.”
Audrey trailed behind, careful not to move too close. Although her skills with a sword were better than most men, she had the strong suspicion Lord Marksman was not most men.
They were near the door, when Lord Marksman stopped suddenly.
For a few elongated seconds, he remained stock still.
Then with an explosion of movement, he dove to the right before Audrey had time to react.
She recovered in time to find herself facing an English gentleman holding her cousin’s sword.
“I will have you hear me out, my lady,” he announced.
Instinctively, Audrey adjusted her stance in preparation for a confrontation.
Her estimation of Lord Marksman had proved correct.
The gentleman was quite comfortable with a sword.
Where she held hers before her in defense, his lordship stood casually, holding Caroline’s sword pointing towards the floor at his side.
“I am no lady, Lord Marksman,” she declared while claiming a spot in the room’s center to defend.
“I beg to differ,” he said with equal casualness to his stance.
“You shall learn that a true lady does not prefer a battle of swords over a battle of wills,” she countered.
As if they performed another previously choreographed form, he joined her in the room’s middle, where he bowed and she half curtseyed.
“Shall we dance again, my lord?” Audrey asked with a nod of recognition of their situation.
Lord Marksman smiled easily, and she would admit, if only to herself, the smile made him handsomer than she recalled his being, assuredly nothing to compare to Lord Beaufort’s countenance, but more than passable, nevertheless.
“I imagine you and I will often share the floor together, my dear, only minus the swords.” They were close enough for him to tap the end of her sword with the tip of his. “I await your first move, my lady.”
Audrey suspected he meant to taunt her with the repetition of the words “my lady.” Yet, he would soon discover she did not enjoy being teased.
She quickly circled her sword over his and knocked his momentarily to the side, but he recovered faster than she had expected and prevented her blade from landing the first strike.
“Nicely done,” he said as he prepared to attack her. The moves he executed were ones she recognized as the type a fencing master might use against a novice, but Lord Marksman would soon learn she was no beginner.
They sidestepped, moving together in a circle of sorts, each keeping himself or herself at a distance from the other.
Audrey was glad she had earlier donned the boys’ style drawstring trousers beneath her gown while she climbed on chairs and tables to clean the light sconces.
It would be more ideal if she did not have a skirt over the drawers, but the dress was full enough and short enough for a certain freedom of movement.
They periodically made maneuvers with their swords to test the other’s alertness.
After the fourth time, their swords struck harder than she expected, and Audrey realized she had moved too close. She could hear the sailors who had long ago taught her to use a sword say, “Ye’ve gots to keep a safe distance. Test yer opponent, gel, without puttin’ yerself in danger.”
The two swords caught the flickering light of the candle providing a brief moment of a silvery rainbow arching over them. She prayed that such was to indicate a good sign for her success.
Lord Marksman feinted to the left, attempting to elicit a response from her, but Audrey prided herself on being wise enough not to fall for those particular tactics.
His lordship had learned from a proper master, whereas she had learned from the more adventurous and cutthroat sailors on the ship her uncle had captained in those early years of traveling the world with her Uncle Jacobi and Caroline.
Her technique was not as polished as that of Lord Marksman, but it could be equally as lethal, if his lordship provided her the opportunity she sought.
They separated, slowly circling as before. Catching their breaths. Testing. Analyzing. “Formidable,” Lord Marksman remarked. “You are quite formidable. Whoever taught you, taught you well.”
“I could say the same of you, but I shall not,” she retorted.