These Old Shades (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 1)

At that she sank down with bent head, and raised his hand to her lips.

‘No, my child.’

She rose.

‘That is the way I do it, Monseigneur. I like it.’

‘It is incorrect. Again, and the proper depth. You curtsied then as to the King. I am but an ordinary mortal, remember.’

Léonie searched in her mind for a fitting retort.

‘Lawks!’ she said vaguely.

His Grace stiffened, but his lips twitched.

‘I – beg – your – pardon?’

‘I said “lawks”,’ said Léonie demurely.

‘I heard you.’ His Grace’s voice was cold.

‘Rachel said it,’ Léonie ventured, peeping up at him. ‘She is Lady Fanny’s maid, you know. You do not like it?’

‘I do not. I should be glad if you would refrain from modelling your conversation on that of Lady Fanny’s maid.’

‘Yes, Monseigneur. Please, what does it mean?’

‘I have not the slightest idea. It is a vulgarity. There are many sins, ma belle, but only one that is unforgivable. That is vulgarity.’

‘I won’t say it again,’ promised Léonie. ‘I will say instead – tiens, what is it? – Tare an’ ouns!’

‘I beg you will do no such thing, ma fille. If you must indulge in forceful expressions confine them to ’pon rep, or merely Lud!’

‘Lud? Yes, that is a pretty one. I like it. I like Lawks best, though. Monseigneur is not angry?’

‘I am never angry,’ said Avon.

At other times he fenced with her, and this she enjoyed most of all. She donned shirt and breeches for the pastime, and displayed no little aptitude for the game. She had a quick eye and a supple waist, and she very soon mastered the rudiments of this manly art. The Duke was one of the first swordsmen of the day, but this in no wise discomposed Léonie. He taught her to fence in the Italian manner, and showed her many subtle passes which he had learned abroad. She experimented with one of them, and since his Grace’s guard, at that moment, was lax, broke through. The button of her foil came to rest below his left shoulder.

‘Touché,’ said Avon. ‘That was rather better, infant.’

Léonie danced in her excitement.

‘Monseigneur, I have killed you! You are dead! You are dead!’

‘You display an unseemly joy,’ he remarked. ‘I had no notion you were so bloodthirsty.’

‘But it was so clever of me!’ she cried. ‘Was it not, Monseigneur?’

‘Not at all,’ he said crushingly. ‘My guard was weak.’

Her mouth dropped.

‘Oh, you let me do it!’

His Grace relented.

‘No, you broke through, ma fille.’