Chapter 22 #2
Harry Angelo, the legendary swordsman and proprietor of Angelo’s Fencing Academy, bowed in reply.
“I’m even more grateful than you are, milady.
Your note allowed me in good conscience to cancel my lesson with a pompous aristocrat—he shall remain nameless—whose hubris is only exceeded by his utter clumsiness. ”
“Then I won’t feel too guilty.”
“Indeed not.”
She smiled. “However, I too, must confess to an ulterior motive. Might we time our lesson to end so that you may escort me past your private practice in Salon Number Two?”
“Ah.” Angelo’s lively eyes sparked with interest. “You wish to … engage with Mr. Murray?”
“I do, sir,” answered Charlotte. “Tell me, if we were to cross swords in a friendly test of skills, do I have a chance of scoring some hits?”
“Murray clearly believes he has a rapier wit, and I concede that he’s clever with his tongue. But his fencing skills are not quite as sharp as he thinks,” said Angelo. “Let us practice a few moves that may give you an advantage.”
They took up position in the center of the square marked out on the private practice-room floor, and the fencing master’s expression turned steely as the blade of his foil. Angelo was all business when it came to his profession.
“En garde,” he barked.
For the next half hour, the quicksilver snick of blade against blade echoed off the walls, punctuated only by the whispery scuffs of their soft-soled shoes and the occasional brusque instruction on how to improve a certain move.
“Enough!” Angelo stepped back and assumed his usual courtly self. “Ha! You have been practicing, I see!” he said with approval. “His Lordship had better be on guard.”
“I think Wrex has nothing to fear from me,” said Charlotte between gasps for air.
“Though the younger members of our family are becoming quite skilled, thanks to your tutelage.” She sucked in another breath.
“We are both very grateful to you for agreeing to take on Eddy as a pupil. Most men would not have given up their precious teaching time to do so.”
“I have four sisters, milady. I am aware of the unfair strictures that Polite Society puts on females, especially those who are clever and resourceful. So it gives me great pleasure to cock a snoot at the privileged popinjays who make such self-serving rules.”
Angelo cut a flourish with his blade. “It is a joy to work with Lady Eddy—and her fellow Weasels, of course. She has great intelligence, grit, and determination. Fencing is an excellent discipline for a girl, as it builds confidence and quick thinking in addition to physical skills.”
“Both of those qualities are important for females,” murmured Charlotte. After blotting the sweat from her brow, she moved to the center of the square. “Come, let us continue, sir. I wish my edge to be as sharp as possible for the coming meeting.”
Wrexford raised his brows in skepticism.
“The laboratories here at the Royal Arsenal are the most advanced in the country when it comes to metallurgy. I find it hard to believe that they haven’t been experimenting with a myriad of ways to harden steel.
And given that Congreve has created a private business venture to compete for the prize money that comes with creating the Inimitable Banknote, I would imagine that he’s sparing no effort in spurring efforts at innovation that would ultimately prove useful to him. ”
“You’re right, Wrexford,” replied Stoneham.
“I have no doubt that with experimentation, and your input, we’ll come up with the formulas we need to make the requisite hardnesses in the steel plates and dies.
The problem is, Perkins has purchased the patent for the machinery that makes those objects.
And he’s also designed a special printing press to produce his banknotes, and that, too, has been patented.
Naturally, he refuses to share that proprietary information with anyone. ”
“I suppose that’s understandable,” observed the earl. “￡20,000 is a great deal of money.”
“What’s frustrating is that he hired the fellow who invented the original siderography process,” complained Stoneham. “So we can’t even search him out and offer a bribe to draw up a set of plans for us.”
A sigh. “The only consolation is that Sir Joseph Banks seems dead set against letting an American print British banknotes, so perhaps we have a chance of figuring out our own system for producing our nation’s currency.”
The sound of male laughter floated through the half-open door of Salon Number Two, followed a moment later by two men dressed in fencing garb, their padded jackets suspiciously pristine.
To Charlotte’s eye, it looked like most of their efforts had been directed at trading bawdy jests and salacious gossip instead of exchanging copo mezano or falso dritto.
Angelo appeared to be of the same opinion. “Carlo, you need to work your pupil a little harder.” He wagged a finger at Duff Murray. “No pain, no gain.”
“Guilty as charged,” murmured the Scotsman. “I confess, I do like my creature comforts.” His eyes widened a touch on catching sight of Charlotte clad in male fencing attire. “Lady Wrexford, you are looking … very fetching.” A cough. “As always.”
She noted that his gaze remained on her bosom, the curves of which were abundantly evident through the damp fabric of her padded jacket.
Let him stare—and be distracted.
“Mr. Murray, it seems we share an interest in the art of self-defense,” she said.
“We do, milady. But of course, fencing is an even more powerful weapon than that,” he replied with a foxlike grin. “For one never knows when one might be forced to go on the attack.”
She gave a mock shudder. “Heaven forfend.”
Angelo let out a soft laugh. “On the contrary. I pity the poor fool who thinks his steel is sharper than yours.”
Swoosh, swoosh. Charlotte’s foil cut a jaunty little flourish through the humid air. “Perhaps we ought to have a friendly match,” she suggested. “Assuming you aren’t too fatigued, Mr. Murray.”
“Come, Carlo,” murmured the fencing master. “Our lessons are over here. But our pupils are free to stay and practice if they are so inclined.”
Murray waited until the two instructors had moved into the main corridor of the Academy before responding.
“Are you any good with a sword, Lady Wrexford?” he asked bluntly. “I wouldn’t want to be accused of taking advantage of you.”
“Your conscience can rest easy, sir. I feel confident that I won’t embarrass myself.”
A smile—and then a gesture for her to enter Salon Number Two. He shut the door behind them after stepping inside. “Forgive the breach of propriety, but I sense that you would prefer that this encounter be a private one.” His eyes narrowed in speculation. “What is it that you are looking to gain?”