Chapter Nineteen
Marlow
I snatched the foils from a shelf above my bed, tucked two gloves under my arm, and checked my face in the mirror. I looked tired. It was rather late. So, I splashed some cold water from the basin on my face and grabbed a mint leaf from my plant by the window.
Not my smartest move, teasing her this way, but I had her attention now, did I not? And if there was one thing I was good at—one thing I could impress her with—it was fencing.
I could best Reynolds blindfolded.
At the end of the night, Georgiana would fall asleep thinking about me.
In truth, it wasn’t a fully formed plan, but it was a start.
I checked both directions before rushing out of my room and back to the library.
Georgiana was pacing by the window. She’d moved the chairs and table, opening up a space for us in the center of the room. Her eyes followed my entrance, and she looked over the foils with that distinct crease between her brows.
I grinned. “Ready?”
She tightened the ties of her robe and held out her hand.
I gave her a glove that she swiftly pulled on.
“You might want to wear a mask,” she added, accepting a foil.
The way she said it made me think she worried that she might accidentally hurt me, but then she taunted me with a confident raise of her brows.
“No need.” I twisted my foil in my hand. “Whenever you’re ready.”
She cleared her throat, watching me turn the handle over, and took a similar grip on hers. Then she planted her foot back firmly and lifted her free hand behind her in a confident stance.
“Pret.” Ready.
Her perfect French drew me up short. As did her stance. She was . . . impressive.
And she seemed to know it. She smiled. And for the first time in my entire life, I felt that ping in my chest old men talked about. A fiery feeling, spreading. It was like her smile was sunshine shooting straight through me, and all the water in the Atlantic could not have extinguished it.
I let myself feel it fully. Reveled in it.
Love.
My gaze washed over her a final time, and I swallowed hard, mimicking the stance.
“En garde.” My voice broke on the word.
Georgiana waited. She watched me for any movement, but I’d thought to let her lead. I did not want to make a sudden move that might hurt—
She lunged at me, foil aimed straight for my chest. My instincts took over in time to parry back. Clink, clink.
The force sent her teetering, and I froze, terrified I’d hurt her. Regardless of what she wanted me to believe, she wasn’t accustomed to this. She was off-balance. Her footwork was all wrong.
“Just your arm. See?” I clinked my foil on hers. “Push it forward. Aim here.” I pointed at my chest.
She quirked a brow.
“Allez,” I directed her. Come.
I waited. And waited.
She stomped her foot, and I twitched just enough that she grinned at having startled me. Devilish woman, distracting me like a professional. She stared. Her arm must be getting tired. I thought perhaps she was seconds away from quitting, when suddenly she attacked.
Once, twice, and thrice, she thrusted her foil. There was no strategy behind it—all madness—but I found my way around her jabs all the same. She knew the basics. She knew to keep her head back and intimidate me with surprise movements. She had seen a tutor before.
I liked it all a little too much.
We watched each other from behind the X of our locked foils. Her chest heaved from exertion. Mine heaved from another feeling entirely.
“You are very good,” she said between breaths. The fire crackled beside us. “You’ve studied longer than my brother.”
“All my life,” I told her. “Every morning.”
“Do you regret what you said about women and fencing?”
A slow smile crept upon my lips. I could play this one of two ways—concede and satisfy her, or deny and incite her wrath. I tried for a middle ground. “Your footwork needs direction.”
She stepped back, and our foils fell. “My footwork was never in question. Once more,” she directed, finding her footing. “Pret.”
I fought my humor, mirroring her again. “Allez.”
This time, she was quick. Her focus was on my foil, matching me parry for parry. This was no “sitting on the settee with her needlepoint” sort of girl. No. Georgiana had been raised in the country alongside her brother, and as polished and proper as she was, there was fire in her.
And I was battling more than just a foil. Devil take it, she had me in pieces. I started to parry harder just to see what she could take. I stepped forward, and she moved back. Back. Back. Her forehead scrunched in concentration, lips parted as she focused.
I let her have a few wins. Then I lunged.
She parried.
I lunged again a full step. Then another.
Her breaths came faster. I’d backed her almost entirely to a wall.
“Enough,” I breathed, thoroughly amused. “You are decent . . . for a woman.”
She widened her stance, but her back foot hit the wall. “Believe it or not, I know the difference between parry and lunge,” she said. Then under her breath, “T’es relou!”
Annoying, hmm? I grinned at her French. Her perfect accent. “Je t’ai coince.” I have you cornered.
She answered by lunging, but I’d expected that. Our foils crossed, and I stepped forward, well and truly cornering her.
“I can see you know the difference well.”
Her eyes locked on mine. Her little hand buried within my old, worn glove pleased me far more than it should. Her breaths labored. Then her eyes dropped to my lips.
My heart flew to my throat. Dash it all, it would be heaven to kiss her.
She swallowed hard. “You are distracting me from my book, Your Grace.”
Your Grace? My humor faded. I did not like that at all. Marlow, even, did not seem quite familiar enough. “Lucas, please. And to be fair, you were distracting me first.”
“What?” Her brows lifted high, whether from the intimacy of my given name or the fact I’d called her a distraction. Either way, I dared her to call me out. Our foils lowered, but only just, and she took the bait. “May I ask how I have distracted you?”
I pressed my lips together. Everything about her had become a distraction. “When you read, you get this serious look on your face. You gnaw your lower lip. Drives a man a little mad, Georgiana.”
Her forehead scrunched. I could see thoughts racing behind her eyes, softening them. Then she frowned. “You cannot say such things. This is not how friends speak to each other.”
She pressed the X of our foils to my chest, releasing her grip, and I grabbed it as she turned away.
“You asked me, did you not?”
She tugged off my glove and tossed it on a chair. “I shouldn’t have. I’m to bed.”
“So early?” Where was Cleo? The only creature who might make her stay.
Georgiana stopped by the door. “We both have a late night ahead tomorrow.”
Ah. Drury Lane. My shoulders sank. “Looking forward to it, are you?”
“Our second outing,” she said softly. “The third, not long after. Then your debt will be paid.”
“I told you, I do not care about that ridiculous contract. Not anymore.” I cared about Grandmother’s ring, but the rest of it was meaningless to my current desires.
“It is not ridiculous to me.” She raised her chin. Her arms hugged her middle. “Your friendship means a great deal to me, and I am happy to have it. But if anyone heard you speak like that to me, Marlow, they would judge me harshly.”
“Lucas. If you please.” I took a step forward. “And I thought we decided we did not care what other people think.”
She retreated under the doorframe. “I wish I did not have to.” Her eyes found mine, and I hated the pain in her eyes. “Nevertheless, I came here to restore my reputation, not to distract a duke from his duty. If you’ll excuse me.”
She turned from the room.
In the silence, among the scattered chairs, the table, and her discarded glove, I stood alone and faced the truth. Georgiana might feel an inkling for me of what I felt for her, but she had set her mind adamantly against it.
She wanted me to court Lady Diana. As though it was my duty.
And about the ton, she wasn’t wrong. If I abandoned Lady Diana, and the ton saw us out together, the rumors would spread wider than they had already.
No matter my name, nor my title, even I could not stop them from becoming as angry and nasty as they had when she’d first arrived.
They’d say far worse than that she’d seduced me.
They’d say that she’d take me for my title and my wealth, that she’d ruin my family’s name with her conquests.
They would hurt her.
In time, the rumors would fade.
I needed Georgiana to believe enduring the ton’s harsh judgments was worthwhile.
That I was worthwhile.
I needed her to believe that we could withstand it all, together.
But, first, I had to endure my own personal purgatory—Drury Lane with Lady Diana.