Lady Catherine's Secret: A Secrets and Seduction book (17 page)

She had to leave. There was no other reasonable choice.

The decision made, she acted on it, sidling toward the door. But before she made it far, Bernini saw her.

“Gray,” he barked as she neared him. “Good to see you here tonight. I have something I want to teach you—a new technique. Let me get everyone started, and then we can work on it together.”

She was trapped, at least for a while. She would have to make her escape after she’d worked with Bernini.

As everyone lined up to begin class, Catherine moved toward the back of the room and took a place on the end of a row, as far away from Huntley and Wentworth as possible. After stepping through some exercises designed to relax the muscles, Bernini demonstrated a technique for everyone to practice. He watched and critiqued them for a few moments, and then he joined Catherine at the side of the room.

“I want to demonstrate the
contre-carte
parry. First, you need to use a counter-parry against me, and then I will defend using the
contre-carte
.” Bernini gave her a quick salute, and they began. Catherine quickly slid into a counter-parry, but Bernini’s smooth response with a subtle circular motion of his foil kept her from scoring her point.

She raised her eyebrows.

“Nice, eh? Let me teach you.” They stepped through it slowly, and Bernini demonstrated the move again. As she thrust toward his belly, he made a slight bend to his wrist so his foil tilted a little upward. He then twisted his wrist in that clockwise semicircle she’d noticed before, but his arm barely moved. Even so, the tip of her foil never touched her target.

“Now you try. The trick is in the wrist.”

They stepped through the move, over and over, until Catherine felt comfortable with it.

“You’re making good progress, but you need to keep that circle small so that it doesn’t register with your opponent. You can take a short break, but I want you to continue perfecting this move. Right now, I need to speak to Mr. Winston.”

As he strode away, Catherine wiped her face with a cloth, careful not to pull at her fake scar. Bernini had pushed her hard, as usual. She tossed the cloth aside and saw Wentworth meandering across the room. He tried to look casual, but Catherine could detect a purpose in his movements. His eyes locked on hers and he grew nearer.

“Gray.”

Although she wanted to ignore the man, Wentworth had a way of demanding her attention. “Good evening, Lord Wentworth.”

“I’ve been watching you. You’re good, but maybe not as good as Bernini thinks.”

He’d been watching her? Why hadn’t she noticed? “I keep telling him the same thing,” she replied, refusing to rise to his bait.

Wentworth’s jaw clenched at her reply. He opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted.

“Time to resume our practice, gentlemen,” Bernini called out.

Wentworth glanced at him over his shoulder and then returned his gaze to Catherine. The cold, level stare challenged her. “Perhaps I’ll give you a matching scar on your other cheek.”

She’d faced this kind of posturing before, from better fencers than he. She raised her chin, unwilling to be cowed, returning his stare.

He took a couple of steps backward, his eyes boring into Catherine’s in a last attempt to intimidate her. Then he spun on his heel and trotted back toward his friend. Catherine observed him as he spoke to Huntley, his movements jerky and tense.

Bernini returned, and this time they focused on the
contre sixte
. It differed from the
contre-carte
in that the “disengage” began from her left instead of her right, and she used a counterclockwise flick of her wrist instead of a clockwise motion. In essence, it was the mirror image of the move she’d just learned.

“You’ve made good progress. This new technique should give you an edge in the tournament.” Bernini glanced toward Wentworth. “We’ll take a short break before our practice duels.” He turned and began to circle the salon, moving around the other fencers.

Catherine’s jaw dropped as she suddenly recalled how her last sparring match against Wentworth had ended. The man had demanded a rematch. How could she have been so foolish? No wonder he’d kept watching her all evening. She couldn’t believe she’d been so distracted that she’d forgotten that crucial detail.

How on earth would she manage to avoid Huntley’s scrutiny if she embroiled herself in a heated duel with his closest friend?

Catherine glanced around at the scant collection of fencers. There’d be no anonymity tonight. Her shoulders slumped as she shook her head, defeated without even raising her foil. She’d have to slip out early, before the sparring portion of the evening commenced. As she thought about the match she was sacrificing, her hand twitched, causing her foil to jump. She could have defeated Wentworth. She was certain of it. She spared a glance at Bernini. What about him? He’d spent so much time training her tonight. He’d be angry. But she had no choice.

When they paused for a brief rest, Catherine sauntered toward the door, trying to look like a person taking a short break rather than a person making a quick escape.

She slipped through the door and found the maestro’s assistant sitting behind the counter.

“Mr. Winston, would you mind seeing that my mask is put away? I decided to cut the evening short, and I don’t wish to interrupt Maestro Bernini’s class by putting it away right now.”

“But of course, Master Gray,” he said, springing to his feet. “I’m pleased to be of service to you. I hope nothing is amiss.”

Just me. I’m a “miss.”

“Let Maestro Bernini know that I wasn’t feeling well, and give him my apologies.” She swung her black cloak over her shoulders.

“Can I get anything for you, sir?”

“Just my mount.”

“I’ll send someone immediately.” He turned and beckoned one of the young footmen. His barked instructions made Catherine jump in surprise. Was this the same man who oozed those honeyed tones when speaking to the gentry? The boy scurried off toward the stables. When Mr. Winston turned back toward her, his unctuous smile was already pinned back in place.

“I’ll wait outside.” She put on her hat over the snug white skullcap and pushed through the outer door.

Outside, the sound of dripping water filled the night. Normally, she would have returned to the agreeable warmth of the foyer to wait for her horse, but not tonight. The risk was too great that she would encounter the marquess. She pulled her heavy black cloak more tightly around herself and wrapped her hands in its folds, fighting off the invading chill. Once she sat astride her horse, the heat radiating from her mount would help warm her.

After a couple of minutes, she heard the door of the academy open.

“I don’t see why we have to rush off this way.”

Lord Huntley!

Her heart pounding in her chest, Catherine ducked around the edge of the external façade of the doorway, her black cloak merging with the deeper shadows. She tugged her dark hat farther down to cover her white skullcap as she hid behind one of the two pillars that flanked the entrance.

“I’m sorry, Huntley, but you can stay if you like,” Wentworth shot back at him. “I don’t need you to accompany me. Why should you cut your evening’s entertainment short? You’ve earned it, right?” Wentworth stalked past the spot where Catherine was hiding without noticing her. “The only reason I came tonight was to even the score with that young pup Gray!” His voice rose as his anger grew. “How dare he leave before we had our rematch? I hazard he was afraid that I would trounce him in front of everyone, so instead of facing me, he ran off.” Wentworth paced back and forth in front of the building.

“Try to stay calm, Wentworth,” said Huntley. “You’re so used to winning most of your matches that you’ve never learned how to lose gracefully.”

The clatter of horses’ hooves came through the fog, and a moment later, the stable lad appeared leading three mounts.

Wentworth shot his friend a scornful look. “Just to keep the record straight, I didn’t lose that last match. Bernini stopped it too soon. So blast Gray, and blast you! I’m heading to the Ambridge Club!” Wentworth snatched his reins from the stable boy and launched himself onto his saddle. He rushed off into the fog, the clattering of his horse’s hoofbeats fading quickly into the night.

Huntley rubbed his chin as he walked down the steps toward the stable boy. “I see someone else is leaving early this evening.” He examined the third horse whose reins the stable boy was holding. He wouldn’t recognize Wildfire with his white blaze obscured, would he?

“Yes sir,” the boy replied.

Huntley paused a moment, but the boy didn’t volunteer any additional information. Huntley turned with a shrug and climbed into Rajah’s saddle. Spinning the horse about, Huntley headed off, but at a more cautious pace than that of his friend. She let out a silent sigh of relief that Wildfire’s disguise had withstood mild scrutiny.

Once Huntley disappeared in the fog, Catherine separated herself from the shadows around the doorway and trotted down the steps. She gave the stable boy a wry grin of thanks for his discretion, along with a coin, and rode away.

17 - A Shout in the Night

Catherine held her horse to a walk. She needed to give Huntley time to move farther away from her along their common route toward their homes. She didn’t want to overtake him on the ride back after being so careful to avoid him all evening. She listened intently for any hoofbeats ahead of her.

She glanced back at Bernini’s before the building disappeared in the fog and briefly considered returning, but decided against it. Bernini was likely as not to punish her by excluding her from any further matches tonight. And anyway, the sparring had already begun.

As she left the residential area surrounding the academy, Catherine decided that Huntley had probably moved far enough ahead of her. Now she could urge her mount to a faster pace. Wildfire transitioned to a trot, and Catherine noted that even the pubs didn’t have much traffic tonight. She only spied one man hurrying down the side of the street, his collar pulled up around his ears. She gripped the handle of her foil, glad that she had brought it with her, but the man didn’t spare her a glance and kept his gaze fixed on the slick walkway.

She left the business district behind and entered another quiet residential neighborhood. Her tension eased as she realized she’d reach her home in about ten minutes.

As she approached an alleyway between two town houses, Catherine heard a noise. It sounded like a muffled yell. Her senses sharpened, and she slowed Wildfire to a walk as she neared the opening between the buildings.

She stopped, faced the alley, and listened intently. She heard nothing except the drip of water falling from the eaves as the fog condensed on the roofs of the buildings. Her fist clenched reflexively on the handle of her foil.

“Hello?” she called, careful to keep her voice deep. “Is anyone there?” There was no answer. She waited a moment longer. She
had
heard something, but perhaps it had just been a rat. Lord, but how she hated rats. They were among the most detestable creatures in existence. Then she chided herself. That couldn’t have been a rat.
How could a rat make a sound like a yell?

It must have been her imagination. She eased her grip on her steel and turned her mount’s head back toward her destination. But as she squeezed her knees for him to trot, a scuffling sound skittered through the night, followed by a muffled yell of “Get off!” from down the alleyway. That was most definitely
not
a rat! She peered down the alley and detected a slight movement.

“Who’s there?” she called out. “Do you need help?” She didn’t like this. She returned her hand to her foil, trying to draw courage from it, and pulled it from its sheath. As fear clutched at her stomach, she extended the weapon in front of her.

What am I doing?

She tightened her knees on Wildfire’s sides and hurried down the alley at a trot. As Catherine grew closer, she saw two men detach themselves from the shadows and run away from her. They weren’t dressed as gentlemen or as servants, but instead wore loose work clothes. One appeared to be carrying an empty cloth sack.

This was
wrong
. Men such as these shouldn’t be skulking around in an alley. With that bag, they looked as if they might be thieves. Her anger flared, and without thinking, she urged Wildfire forward to chase them.

The alley ended at a tall iron fence with a narrow gate. In a panic, the men yanked at the gate to open it farther, but it wouldn’t budge. They looked over their shoulders to see her almost upon them and let out yelps of fear. With a burst of energy, they squeezed their way through the narrow gap and scurried off into the night.

Catherine let out a frustrated sigh as she pulled her horse to a stop. While she stared at the frozen gate, however, she realized her folly. What had she been thinking, pursuing them with nothing but a foil as a weapon?

She shook her head and turned her mount back the way she’d come. Perhaps she should have returned to Bernini’s after all. At least then she would have burned off some of this anger, and perhaps she wouldn’t have taken such a foolish risk.