16. Fencing

Chapter sixteen

Fencing

T he trip to Hatchard's was followed by several more days spent planning Penelope Trafford's ball. Gyles found Miss Lymington still determined to avoid him, and indeed, she rarely put in an appearance belowstairs if the Audeleys were visiting. Eventually, however, the loose ends for the ball had all been sewn up. Gyles' mother declared that a shopping expedition was in order and that the gentlemen were de trop.

Lord Kendall, who would have been perfectly content to squire his nieces and Mrs. Audeley about town, could see where he was not wanted. Instead, he invited Gyles to join him in watching a bout of swordplay at Angelo's Ecole des Armes on Bond Street. Gyles would also have preferred to trail after the ladies—at least, he would have once he learned that a certain governess was joining the expedition—or to have remained at home so he could continue writing his chapter on soil fertilisation, but he accepted Lord Kendall's invitation with good grace .

The room at Angelo's smelled of sweat, leather, and the metallic tang of blades or blood. But at least the high ceilings held a clerestory of windows, and the place was well-lit. The school was not just for those who participated in sport but for those who liked to watch it take place. Small groups of men stood or sat at tables around the fencing floor, and the earl secured a place for Gyles and himself to sit.

Gyles did not know the first thing about fencing. His father had been more concerned with the management of his money than with fencing, shooting, hunting, or other sport. If he did not enjoy an activity himself, he would hardly waste the blunt on introducing his son to it. Even gaining a small space in the garden for two dozen rose bushes had been a difficult concession for Gyles to wring from him. As he grew into manhood, Gyles had begun to comprehend the parsimonious manner in which his father treated his family. No wonder his mother was yearning to do some long overdue shopping in London after the tight-fisted treatment to which she had been subjected.

The fencing match was between Mr. Heller and Viscount Landsdowne. Gyles was coming to appreciate Mr. Heller as a fledgling friend, but the viscount was unknown to him. The two men seemed evenly matched—but then, Gyles was ignorant of what constituted real skill. When Viscount Landsdowne pricked Mr. Heller with the tip of his foil, the room erupted in a roar of applause and then quieted again as the match continued in earnest.

Lord Kendall, eyes on the fencing floor, kept up a steady flow of conversation with Gyles. He seemed curious about Gyles' parents, and the young man found himself sharing details about his mother and father that he had never shared with anyone. As they talked, a large fellow with a bright mauve waistcoat, entered the salon and marched his way across the corner of the fencing floor until he paused in front of their table. "Careful, Digby," said the earl. "You're blocking our view of the match."

Gyles recalled meeting the fellow, on horseback in the Duke of Warrenton's company in Hyde Park. He would never have recalled the man's name, but apparently Lord Kendall was familiar with him.

"Oh, pardon me," said Mr. Digby, his accent betraying his lower-class origins. He removed his beaver and scratched the rim of his balding head. "Hello, Kendall. Audeley."

Apparently, Mr. Digby remembered his name.

"I'm surprised to see you here," said Lord Kendall. "Angelo's is hardly your typical tea and biscuits."

Gyles smiled at that metaphor. One could readily imagine the sleek Earl of Kendall stripping down to his shirtsleeves for a round of sabre strokes, but the ponderous physique of Solomon Digby would have been more at home at a dining table than on a fencing floor.

"I need some information," said Mr. Digby with a grunt. "There's a gel promised to me, but her guardian keeps putting me off. Haven't seen hide nor hair of her since midsummer. Where's she got to, I'm wondering? Thought I'd get to a watering spot and hear the latest gossip."

Gyles was confused. "You speak as if this girl were a horse." Who would promise any girl to such a lout?

"Oh, stap me, certainly not. This one's a prime filly, high-mettled, not quite broken to harness."

Gyles grimaced, ready for the conversation to be over. He could not imagine using such coarse verbiage to describe any of the ladies of his acquaintance .

"Does this filly have a name?" Lord Kendall raised an eyebrow.

Digby took on a sly look. He leaned in to whisper. "It's Lady Louisa, the Duke of Warrenton's niece. Has a hundred thousand pounds from her mother's side."

It was a tidy sum. Had he been interested in heiresses, Gyles would have perked up an ear. But the thought of seeking out a lady for her monetary value had never occurred to him.

"No wonder you're looking for her," said Lord Kendall.

"Oh, she has other qualities as well." Digby spent the next few moments describing the woman's figure in such keen detail that Gyles almost told the lascivious old fellow to stow it or shove off. But as much as he detested such conversation, he could not help comparing the bawdy description to the appearance of the remarkable woman who consumed most of his thoughts each day with her honey-gold hair, violet-brown eyes, and heart-shaped face. Could they possibly be one and the same? Could Miss Lymington be both his Julia from Carlton House and the niece to the Duke of Warrenton?

"And so Warrenton's putting you off, is he?" interrupted Lord Kendall. "What does he say?"

"He says she's visiting family in a remote location. Claims she'll be back in London at the start of the season."

"Then you must just be patient, man," said the earl. "That is, if you trust Warrenton." Mr. Digby frowned, that little nudge from the earl causing the wheels in his head to begin turning.

Gyles' mind was also spinning. He had seen Warrenton in Hyde Park astride a horse, but he would give a good deal to see him in his carriage—and to see the coat-of-arms that was painted on the door. After his last trip to London, he had spent months regretting his stupid failure to ask the unknown Julia her name, but it seemed that Providence had both thrown her back into his path and given him another chance to identify her.

The room erupted in applause again as the viscount landed another good hit on Mr. Heller's lower left ribs. Lord Kendall rose from his chair to applaud and Gyles followed suit.

Viscount Landsdowne had won. Lord Kendall moved to congratulate him while Gyles went to exchange a few words with Mr. Heller.

"A good effort," he proclaimed, speaking more from friendship than knowledge.

"Not fast enough by far," said Mr. Heller, mopping the sweat from his face with a cloth. "Landsdowne's quick as the devil with his parries. Thought I had him cornered a minute ago, but he set me back on my toes soon enough." He gave Gyles a rueful smile. "You here with Kendall?"

"Yes," said Gyles, looking over to where the earl was deep in conversation with Viscount Landsdowne.

"Hmm, makes sense. Soon to be your father, eh?"

"I beg your pardon?" Gyles turned back to Mr. Heller in surprise.

"Oh," said Mr. Heller, colouring. "Just a rumour I heard. Pay no attention to me. Never get things right side up, at least, that's what Tavinstock tells me."

Gyles cleared his throat and changed the subject. But inside, his mind travelled back to the earlier conversation with Mr. Digby. Had he got things right side up? Or was Miss Lymington just who she said she was—a governess who looked remarkably like someone he had once met?