Chapter 22 #3
“Information,” replied Charlotte. “One truthful answer for each touch.”
“Ah.” A smile ghosted over his lips. “Very well, I’m willing to agree. But only if it works both ways.”
“That goes without saying. Anything else would not be fair.”
“Your sense of honor does you credit,” he replied. “In my line of work, I all too often find myself dealing with knaves and scoundrels.”
“To what line of work do you refer?” asked Charlotte.
A chuckle. “You’ve not yet won an answer, milady.” Murray assumed a fencer’s starting stance. “Shall we have a practice engagement, since we’ve never seen each other in action?”
“An excellent suggestion.” She took up her position facing him.
“I’m curious,” he murmured, not yet raising his foil. “Is there a reason you wear a gauntlet on each hand?”
“You’ve not yet won an answer either, sir. However, I’m happy to oblige. It’s to protect my rings from any errant strike of steel. I should hate to lose a precious stone from its setting.”
“It’s always wise to err on the side of caution,” he responded.
Indeed, it is, Mr. Murray, for hubris can get you into trouble, thought Charlotte as she raised her blade to cross with his.
“En garde, sir,” she said.
They both started slowly, feeling each other out with careful thrusts and parries.
“I’m impressed,” he murmured, as they circled each other, each fending off the other’s foil. “You have excellent form.”
“Harry Angelo is a superb teacher.”
“Indeed.” In the next instant, Murray quickened his tempo, and the tip of his foil hit square in the middle of her padded jacket. “Touché, milady.”
Charlotte acknowledged his victory with a gracious salute. “Well done, sir. I shall have my work cut out for me to ensure that doesn’t happen when it counts.”
They returned to the center of the fencing square.
“Are you ready to begin in earnest, Lady Wrexford?” he asked, a glint of amusement flashing beneath his dark lashes.
“Absolutely.” With that, Charlotte shifted her foil to her left hand and reset her stance.
He stepped back in confusion.
“Oh, did I not mention that I’m ambidextrous?” She was naturally left-handed, but being sinister—the Latin term for left—was considered a mark of evil, and so she had been forced from early childhood to perform all tasks, including wielding a pen, with her right hand.
And while she still drew with her right hand, she had reverted to her dominant left hand for physical activities like shooting and fencing.
“You did not,” he replied tightly. “No matter.” The gleam in his eye had taken on an edge of steel. “En garde, milady.”
The bout ended far more quickly than the practice foray. One of the reasons Angelo had encouraged her to fence left-handed was because most opponents were confused by having to fend off attacks coming from unexpected angles.
“Damn,” muttered Murray, wincing as he rubbed at a spot just above his heart.
Tit for tat. Charlotte admitted to herself that she had struck with a tad more force than necessary because of his supercilious attitude during their previous meetings.
Adding insult to injury, she smiled. “I’ve won my first question—and an honest answer.”
“Subterfuge and trickery were not part of the agreement,” he grumbled.
“The terms we agreed to were simply that the winner of a foray receives an honest answer to a question. Are you now reneging on your word of honor?”
His eyes narrowed. “You have one question, milady.” He tossed aside his foil and peeled off his leather gauntlet, then slapped it against his palm. “For as we didn’t specify the number of forays this match would entail, I am deeming it over.”
“As you wish.” Charlotte took her time to carefully compose the wording of what to ask, knowing she wouldn’t get a second chance. “If one possesses a pewter signet ring engraved with a heart and crossed daggers, what is the name of the group or organization to which it would signify membership?”
The blood drained from Murray’s face—he looked as if he had just seen a ghost.
“H-How do you know—”
“It’s me who is entitled to ask a question,” she interrupted. “And you owe me an answer.”
A tiny muscle on his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth.
“And please don’t insult me by feigning ignorance on the matter.”
Murray’s nostrils flared as he drew in a sharp breath through his nose. “Be careful what details from the past you wish to learn, Lady Wrexford.”
“I likely know a great deal more than you think,” replied Charlotte.
Just before leaving home, she had received a very interesting note from the dowager on the result of her inquiries.
“For example, Lady Peake happened to hear from one of her Scottish friends that you and Bertram Ainsley were tutored by the same clergyman as boys.”
“Is that a crime?” he demanded.
“Should I have any reason to think it is?” she countered.
Their gazes locked as they stood facing each other in unflinching silence, Charlotte taking care not to bat an eye.
“The name,” he finally gritted out, “is the Paine Society.” And with that, Murray turned on his heel and stalked out of the salon.