Lady Catherine's Secret: A Secrets and Seduction book (2 page)

Smiling faintly to herself, Catherine made a quick perusal of the occupants in the large fencing salon. She spied only two faces she didn’t recognize, so she paused to assess the newcomers’ fencing abilities as they warmed up with some light sparring. After only a moment, it became obvious that the two men were friends.

“Look more lively, Huntley,” one of them said over the sound of clashing steel that filled the room. “You’re dragging. Is your search for a perfect wife wearing you down? It must be a demanding task to locate someone perfectly proper.”

In response, the slightly taller man, Huntley, performed an envelopment, sweeping his friend’s blade through a full circle and controlling the match. Then he lunged forward on his long, muscular legs to score a point. The other man scowled, clearly annoyed.

Huntley moved gracefully as he whipped his foil through the air. He looked lively enough to Catherine. The muscles in his extended rear leg bunched and moved under his tight-fitting breeches, reminding her of jungle cats she’d seen at the London Zoo. A panther, she decided, as he pulled off his mask, revealing his black hair. But his eyes seemed slightly incongruous with that image. They should have been golden brown rather than a clear, bright blue.

Huntley regarded his friend and raised his left eyebrow so high it disappeared behind a lock of his tousled hair. “I’m here tonight to escape all that, and thank you for bringing it up.” He peered at his friend more closely. “What’s bothering you? You’re testy tonight. I’d hoped some light sparring would improve your mood, but I’m beginning to think the only thing that will knock some sense into you is a thrashing.” Huntley slipped on his fencing mask and dropped into an “
en garde
” stance, raising his foil in a salute. “Maybe I can accommodate you.” When his friend didn’t follow suit, Huntley twitched his foil in a beckoning motion.

Clearly unable to resist the challenge, his friend broke into a fierce grin, slid his fencing mask back in place, and then settled across from Huntley in a similar stance. Soon they were engaged in a brisk, but friendly, duel.

They were both good fencers, but Catherine found her eyes drawn to Huntley. She admired his powerful stance as he moved through a series of lunges. Not only was he tall, but he was quick as well. He’d make a formidable opponent.

With an almost palpable intensity, his alert eyes seemed to notice everything taking place in the room, even as he maintained his focus on his fencing partner.

Just like a predator.

Huntley glanced at her, piercing her with his direct gaze, and he clenched his jaw. Catherine began to smile back, but caught herself and changed her smile to a smirk. Where on earth did she think she was, at some soiree? She fumbled with her foil as she realized she had nearly flirted with the man. How could she have been so careless? She turned away from him, her face flaming.

As she began stretching, feeling the pull of muscles releasing in her lower back, Catherine continued to watch them surreptitiously, glancing over her shoulder, not wanting to be caught staring again. As they sparred, she noticed that they held back, not putting too much force behind their attacks. Even so, Huntley’s impressive combination of polished moves, strength, and power melded into a remarkable athletic display. She’d need to observe them both later during a real match.

With her attention focused on the newcomers, someone managed to slip behind her and rap her smartly on her shoulder with what felt like the handle of a foil. Catherine whipped around, but wasn’t surprised to find herself staring up at Maestro Bernini. He loved sneaking up on his students that way, but he usually didn’t manage to do it with Catherine.

His eyes sparkled at his rare victory. “
Buona sera
, Gray. It’s good to see you. Don’t you ever grow?” His gravelly voice held an Italian accent as the words rolled off his tongue. He shook his head and tut-tutted.

Catherine pressed her lips together at his gibe. Bernini was either unaware of the discomfort he’d caused or he simply didn’t care. She tried to ignore her pang of anxiety.

She wouldn’t be able to pass herself off as Alexander Gray much longer.

“You’re no taller than the last time I saw you six months ago.” Bernini’s brows furrowed together as he glared at her. “
Eat
, boy. We need to increase your reach.” He clapped her hard on the back, almost causing her to stumble.

Catherine suppressed a grimace.

“
Attenzione
. Let’s begin, shall we?” Bernini called out, his voice slicing through the commotion.

Maestro Bernini had everyone begin with a few simple drills to practice their footwork, but quickly moved on to having them practice more complex techniques. He observed and corrected his students as each honed his skills.

He gave Catherine a satisfied nod as he passed, and she covered her relief with a grimace. She hated having him annoyed with her. There was nothing she could do about his complaint except grow taller, and unfortunately, that was well beyond her abilities.

As was traditional for the last part of the evening, Bernini demonstrated a more advanced technique for them to learn. Catherine watched him carefully and then slid through the steps of the move, mastering it quickly and earning another nod of approval from the maestro.

She glanced at Huntley in time to see that he, too, earned a similar nod. She hid the small smile of satisfaction. She’d been right. The man had talent.

Excitement raced through her when, at last, the best part of the evening arrived. Catherine rolled forward on her toes as the maestro paired them off to duel.

Bernini assigned sparring partners based on both size and ability. With her small stature, Catherine tended to be the exception, and she normally found herself facing a much larger opponent.

He paired Charles with Huntley. Catherine was both relieved and annoyed that she wasn’t going to fence him. But perhaps it was for the best. She found the man distracting, and the fact disturbed her.

When Bernini matched Catherine with the slightly shorter newcomer, she was intrigued. They approached each other with their fencing masks tucked under their arms, openly assessing one another. She tipped her head back and looked up at him. Shorter was a relative term, since at six feet tall, the man still towered over her.

He lifted his chin and looked down his nose at her with narrowed eyes, assessing her. Apparently, he found her lacking.

“Lord Wentworth,” said Maestro Bernini, “this is Alexander Gray.” He nodded toward Catherine. “Gray, you’ll be matched with one of our new guests this evening, the Earl of Wentworth.”

“You’re having me spar with a boy?” Wentworth curled his lip in a sneer.

Bernini’s smile became crafty. “Don’t let Gray’s size fool you, my lord. He may well be the best student I’ve ever had. His only drawback is his size, and I’m sure that he’ll eventually grow out of it.” Bernini grinned at his own joke, but Catherine had heard it repeated too many times to find it humorous. “He may well win the big tournament I’m holding in a couple of months.”

Wentworth shot her a look of increased interest and cocked an eyebrow. “High praise, indeed, young man. I must admit, you don’t look like much of a challenge. You barely reach my chin.”

Catherine raised one eyebrow to mimic him, and she felt her skin pull a bit where she’d used the collodion to cause it to pucker with the fake scar. She enjoyed being underestimated by newcomers. This should be fun. She didn’t say a word to him but instead turned her attention back to Bernini. “Maestro, did I hear you correctly? Are you holding a tournament?”

The man beamed at her. “The first annual Bernini’s Cup. I’ll explain more at the end of the evening.”

Bernini thought she could win a fencing tournament? A tingle of excitement ran through her. Could she really do something so daring? She imagined herself winning the tournament and then snatching off her white skullcap to show everyone what a woman could do when given a chance. But then the faces she imagined altered. Instead of admiration, they all held shock and rebuke. She shook her head to dismiss the image. Her family would face ostracism if everyone learned she’d been living such a duplicitous life. It anyone ever discovered that Lady Catherine had entered the gentlemen’s changing room, she’d be denounced as a woman of loose morals and shunned by society. That would be too steep a price to pay for a brief moment of glory.

But it
was
a splendid dream.

Even though Wentworth angled his body away from her, Catherine still overheard what he murmured to Huntley. “After everything I heard about Bernini’s, I expected more of a challenge.”

Her fingers tightened on the wire rim of the face mask, feeling it dig into her flesh. If a challenge was what Wentworth desired, then she’d leave him feeling satisfied tonight.

“Don’t be so cocky.” Huntley glanced at her, but she avoided his gaze. “I watched him earlier. He’s very good. He fences as well as a man twice his age.”

His praise caught her off guard, and a rush of pride suffused her. He’d noticed her? She’d been aware of the man all night, assessing his abilities. How was it she’d missed noticing that he’d been doing the same?

“He’s only a child.” Wentworth spun on his heel and turned back to Catherine. His eyes glittered in anticipation as he donned his face mask.

They saluted, as was tradition, and then Wentworth made a tentative advance, toying with her, and Catherine easily parried the move. He lunged, slapping his foot hard against the boards with a bang, but Catherine danced backward, out of reach.

Wentworth tested her as he continued to search for any weakness in her defenses, but she remained guarded. When he intentionally left himself open to attack, she knew better than to fall for such a blatant ruse. Instead, she blithely slapped his foil aside and grinned. He frowned, obviously irritated that she’d recognized the trap. They continued in this manner for a while, testing one another, but without scoring any points.

Two by two, the other fencers finished their mock duels and began to gather around Catherine and Wentworth until finally, they were the only pair still sparring.

Catherine caught sight of Huntley from the corner of her eye. The man’s head was cocked to one side as he studied them. When she struck the first point directly in the center of Wentworth’s chest, Huntley joined the others in applauding.

The moment he was hit, Wentworth jerked his head back in surprise and then glared at her. He let out a huff of frustration and immediately dropped into the “
en garde”
stance to continue the match.

Catherine saw a brief frisson of tension spark through Wentworth’s body. Years of fencing had taught her to recognize an opponent’s mood change, and she recognized the shift in Wentworth’s temper through the small, subtle changes in his body.

“Mind yourself, Wentworth, he’s just a boy,” Huntley called out.

Catherine’s eyes narrowed as she focused on Wentworth, shutting out everything else in the room. Rather than calming him, Huntley’s comments seemed to have thrown fuel on Wentworth’s already smoldering temper.

“It’s time I taught this boy a
lesson
.” Wentworth lunged at Catherine in what he probably hoped was a surprise attack. His anger, however, made him careless, and she easily parried his thrust.

The metal of their foils sang as she slid hers up along his, easily scoring another point as she pushed his foil aside and thrust the tip of hers at his right shoulder. She allowed the length of the foil to arch as she pressed the tip against his doublet, offering visible proof of her hit.

While standing frozen in her stance, she watched a deep flush suffuse Wentworth’s face. It was obvious even through his mask. As she stepped back, he clenched his left hand into a fist.

Anger made a person more dangerous and unpredictable, as well as more careless, and that combination in a fencer could be deadly. Judging by the startled faces of their audience, they too had noted Wentworth’s growing rage. Catherine scraped her teeth against her bottom lip, tasting a hint of saltiness.

What would Wentworth do next?

Fortunately, the maestro was also focused on the duel. As the soaring tension between Catherine and Wentworth became palpable, Bernini stepped between them and raised his hands, putting an end to the match.

“Two points,” Bernini announced. “And we are done.” He grabbed Catherine by her free hand and Wentworth by the one holding his foil and raised them above his head. “That was excellent, gentlemen. I know we usually go to three points,” he said, addressing the assemblage, “but I’m sorry to say, we have to cut this short.” He dropped their hands as he paused and offered a salacious grin. “I have a most important engagement this evening and I must ask everyone to leave promptly.” The twinkle in his eye left no one wondering about the type of engagement. Bernini was renowned for his insatiable appetite for women. “Wentworth, Gray... that was excellent. I look forward to hosting your rematch.”

Wentworth gave Bernini a terse nod and backed away without even glancing at her.

Since Wentworth was new to the academy, Catherine didn’t know him well enough to anticipate how he might have handled his anger, so with this abrupt disappearance of tension, she nearly sagged with relief.