Chapter Eight
T hat evening, Boudicca ventured to The Practice Hall to release some pent up energy. She donned her fencing gear, complete with trousers, and began her exercises starting with the standing Y repeated twelve times. All the while she heard Wesley’s laughter over the moon comment and saw his smile after trying the white coffee flavor for the first time. He was kind. And kind of adorable. And a little bit adoring. She wouldn’t go so far as to say that it was genuine adoring, but…he had been willing to share his favorite ice. That said something about a person. He had also been willing to take the fall for ordering all the ices. That also said something. And then they had laughed together over such a silly joke about a wolf. Which also said something about him.
But with everything said about him, she still wasn’t sure what she really knew about him.
The door opened, and in walked her three sisters. It was more common than not for the four sisters to practice at the same time, though they all worked on their individual skills. And often they would spar with each other, for there were no other ladies of the haute ton they had brought into their coterie.
This evening it seemed as though all the sisters were interested in fencing. Rapiers clicked and clanged and within the hour, the two pairs were past perspiring and were full blown sweating through their gear. No wonder society deemed that this was not an activity for ladies.
Boudicca stopped to grab some water after winning the rounds against each sister. Fencing was her forte after all. She took a glass and poured some water, flanked by her sisters.
“So…”—Mimi gulped some water down—“Are you going to share what you’ve been up to the past few days, Bodi?”
Of course her sisters would pounce on her the first chance they got. She was surprised they hadn’t cornered her earlier. Almost four days had passed since the dare had been issued.
“I’ve been out.”
“We know,” Mimi intoned, hands on hips. “Do you think we’d be the last to find out? You know we live here, right? We’re aware the duke has visited. Multiple times.”
“Hmmm…” Boudicca stalled.
“Were you going to share with us, Bodi?” Joan asked quietly.
“We’re here for you if you want to talk,” Nobi chimed in now, too. “We’d like to know what’s going on. Four visits in four days…What’s he like? Does he make you laugh? Do you think he’s handsome?”
“I’d like to know what’s going on, too,” Boudicca confessed. “I don’t understand him.”
“He’s courting you,” Mimi announced.
“Yes…I realize that…but, I don’t know why he’s courting me.”
“You’re kind, intelligent, beautiful—”
“Possibly. But he doesn’t know that.” Boudicca had to interrupt.
“He must. He has eyes,” Mimi retorted. “Deep, brooding eyes…”
“Deep and brooding? Really Mimi?” Nobi tapped her rapier against her boot.
“If you haven’t noticed his eyes, you’re either deceiving yourself or you haven’t opened yours.” Mimi jabbed her finger into Nobi’s shoulder a couple of times as if to wake her up.
“It isn’t worth arguing over. His eyes are deep, and…brooding—”
“So you think he’s handsome then?”
Boudicca sighed. “Also not worth arguing over. It’s quite an obvious fact that Wesley is a handsome man.”
The sisters gasped collectively, which led to some giggles.
“What?” Boudicca defended herself when she shouldn’t have had to. “He is handsome. Why would I be contrary and say otherwise.”
“You called him Wes-ley,” Mimi sing-songed. “Wes-ley and Bo-di.”
“How childish, Mimi. Really.” Boudicca tightened her lips, but Mimi didn’t stop her singing.
“Wes-ley and Bo-di. Wes-ley and Bo-di.”
Nobi spoke over the immaturity. “Has he caused any floating feelings, loose limbs, fluttery heartbeat, or bouncy steps in you?”
Boudicca rather thought Nobi was speaking from personal experience, given the specificity with which she asked about physical reactions. “It’s been more sinking feelings, heavy limbs, erratic heartbeats, and dreaded steps.”
“Well, that’s…something at least?” She sounded hopeful.
Boudicca huffed. With her level of spinsterhood, she would likely never have physical reactions like that to a man. It was despairing, even though she thought she had already accepted her fate, there was some disappointment welling within her. And it was perhaps exasperated by Mimi’s incessant taunting.
“Wes-ley and Bo-di.”
“Mimi, do you want to know what’s happened or not?” She practically stamped her foot at her youngest sister.
“Quiet, Mimi. We want to actually hear what’s going on between Bodi and Wesley, not just hear your childishly melodic ode.” With Joan and Nobi on her side, Mimi finally shut up.
“Right then. He’s courting me. We’ve done what a typical courting couple would do.” And she summarized the preceding days’ events, only leaving out the trifling matters. Like her feelings on it all. “So that’s that.”
“Do you like him?” Joan asked.
“I don’t know,” Boudicca shrugged. “I can’t take his courtship seriously. There must be an ulterior motive.”
“He’s not the enemy,” Joan said gently.
“That’s just it. He feels like the enemy.”
“All the more reason to get to know him better,” Nobi said, lifting a finger to the air. “Know your enemy and know yourself. You know, The Art of War and all.”
“It’s not a battlefield, Nobi,” Joan said.
Mimi took a step back, en garde. “Love is always a battlefield.” She swished her sword through the air.
Boudicca rolled her eyes. “Well, as silly as it sounds, it does feel like it’s a battlefield.”
“Then the only way you’ll really know him is to show him who you really are,” Joan crossed her arms. “But can you do that?”
“I’ve only been myself with him.” Boudicca’s tone sounded strained even to her own ears.
“Have you?” Joan was quiet, but she wouldn’t back down from a challenge, especially when she knew she was right.
“I have.”
“So he knows that you fence?” Joan countered.
“No.”
“He knows about spinsterhood plans?”
“No.”
“Fencing school for girls?”
“No.”
“Interest in politics?”
“No.”
“Favorite color?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bodi,” Joan paused, “the man knows nothing about who you really are. You have to show him.”
“I—I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” Joan urged.
It felt childish, weak, too vulnerable to tell her younger sisters why she couldn’t open up to Wesley. Or any man, really. If she revealed herself to him and he rejected her, it would be too painful.
“It’s terrifying to share your true self with someone.” Nobi patted Boudicca’s arm. “Especially when you feel you can’t trust them. But I think it’ll be worth it.”
“So you agree with Joan?” Boudicca asked.
Joan and Nobi nodded.
“You know what you have to do, Bodi.” Mimi wheeled around on her heel and swung her sword again. “You have to fence with him.”
“What? Why?”
“You know why.” Mimi stood still as a statue. “It’s who you are. Show him who you are.”
“I don’t trust him. There’s something else going on. He has some kind of ulterior motive, so why would I make something real out of this when it’s all fake?”
“Like begets like,” Joan said. “Open up and he will too.”
“Maybe…” Boudicca hesitated.
And Mimi swept in. “Then don’t be too real. Be real enough to find out what it is. Or get your own ulterior motive. Then you’ll be even.”
“You mean besides the dare?”
Mimi waved her hand dismissively. “Of course, besides the dare. That’s not an ulterior motive. That’s a real motive. Get married to secure your future. There’s nothing nefarious or surprising there. Put him on his guard. Attack him. Literally, and find out for yourself what he’s up to.”
“That’s not a terrible idea…”
*
“That’s a terrible idea. I can’t fence with you,” so said Wesley the next morning when he came to visit. He had planned to visit this morning. Again. And the plan was to plan when he would propose. That was the plan. But the proposed plan was not unfolding. He couldn’t think straight. Not only because she looked quite fetching in her sapphire blue frock (forget that thought), but also because she had greeted him with Shall we try fencing today?
Boudicca stood, indicating the hardly-started visit was coming to an end. With a long inhale, an inhale that caused a heave of her bosom which directly sent a flare to his groin, she said, “It was worth a shot to ask.”
Etiquette dictated that Wesley stand when a lady did, so he was on his feet. Though his footing was slightly off balance after the heaving and the flaring. Hang it all. She wanted to fence with him…that had to be the oddest request he’d ever had from a lady.
“Why do you want to fence? I’m courting you. We should visit. Get to know each other.” He hardly believed he had to convince her of the proper way to court a lady. But then again, this was the same lady who hadn’t done anything conventionally yet. So really, he shouldn’t be so foolish to think that she would start now.
Yet…yet, something had clicked into place over ices. He couldn’t shake the feeling. What the feeling was, he wasn’t sure. Comfort? Familiarity? Contentment? They had shared a few laughs and enjoyed their time. It had all the appearances of a typical day out. Save the nine animal-shaped ices strewn about the table. Amused at the thought, and delighted to have discovered a new favorite flavor, he couldn’t cast any blame over her.
But fencing?
And while he had been ruminating, she had been retreating. He gave a last ditch effort of an excuse.
“I’ve nothing to wear.”
Her eyes roamed his body from head to toe, and for some reason it made him puff out his chest. Just a touch. A slightly larger inhalation than perhaps would have been normal. And yes, he may have adjusted his shoulders by pulling them back. A hair. Not worth noting. Her gaze was a challenge he wasn’t willing to lose.
“You want to get to know me, but you want to control everything about how you court me?”
“I want to control everything?” he gave her as dubious a stare as he dared. “I assure you, if I were the one in control—”
“No matter. You’ve made up your mind. And so I’ve made up mine.”
She wasn’t getting away that easily.
“Oh, we’ll fence. But let the record show how adamantly I insisted that this was a terrible idea.”
“The record will show. Have no fear.” She turned toward the door, but not before he glimpsed a small smirk on her face. “I’ll grab you some of my brother’s gear. You’re about the same size.”
In fact, he was not the same size as her brother. He was slightly larger in every way, and he was pulling at the sleeves that rested a couple of inches above his wrists. And his trousers were…tight to say the least. Notwithstanding, his ankles seemed to enjoy the breeze. She had left him to change behind the screen in a large hall arena. Gymnasium clad with weapons. So…an armory of sorts? But the weapons were not on display. At least, they didn’t look as though they were only on display. They looked used. Well-used.
Futilely, he tugged on his sleeve again. With a grunt, he bent down to adjust his trousers, then reconsidered how far he could bend. This would severely limit his movements if he wanted to maintain propriety. Cursed gel! He had already determined that he would play left-handed against her so as not to completely annihilate her. He was a man after all, and he had nearly won the last cursed fencing tournament against his cursed best friend, Samuel. Thankfully, he had not had a match against Lord Tamely. The man was a notorious cheat. And briber. He had seen the knave trip a man and claim a point while the referee turned a blind eye. Despicable, that. But there was no recourse for the call. Infused with the ugly memory and uncomfortably clad, he waited for his enigmatic opponent.
Clearly, he was in great spirits at the prospect of parrying with Boudicca.
But even with the cringe-worthy fit of his gear, and the sensory onslaught of the unique armory-slash-gymnasium, he was altogether a complete slack-jawed mess when Boudicca entered the hall.