Julian smiled down at Caroline. "There is no danger," he said gently. "The points of the foils are covered, and we are very careful. Your cousin has been working to develop her coordination and reflexes. In fact she is getting to be quite a good match for me." He threw a teasing look at Brie. "I get the feeling that Brie aspires to manhood. She already rides and shoots like a Cavalryman. I expect her next to try her hand at fisticuffs."
His remark jolted Brie out of her abstracted mood, and she scowled at him. "Julian Blake, that was a wicked thing to say. If you don't wish me to come, you only have to tell me. Fisticuffs, indeed! I ought to give your blasted horse back and let you suffer."
Surprised by her cousin's sudden outburst, Caroline glanced at Julian. She had seen the effect Brie's occasional flashes of temper had on men before, and she wondered how he would react. But either Julian had more self-command or he was accustomed to Brie's sharp repartee, for he laughed and held up his hands. "Truce, truce. Calm down, Brie. Caroline will think we fight like this all the time."
"We do," Brie retorted. "But one of these days I shall best you, and you will be at my mercy."
"I already am, m'dear," he replied, grinning.
Brie was in no mood to be teased, though. Pulling on her gloves, she curtly thanked Julian for the tea, then marched from the room.
Julian followed her retreating figure with his gaze. The odd look that crossed his face was gone in an instant, but Caroline saw it. Realizing he was still half in love with her cousin, she felt an urge to comfort him. "I think something is bothering Brie," she said quietly. "She argued with Katherine this morning, too."
Julian shook himself, then smiled down at Caroline. "Well," he said, gallantly offering her his arm, "if you are interested in seeing an exhibition in swordplay, you may come tomorrow with your cousin."
Dimpling, Caroline wrinkled her nose. "I expect I will find the sport a bit too arduous for my taste, but I should like to watch." When they reached the innyard, Brie was already mounted. Julian assisted Caroline onto her horse, but he barely had time to say farewell before Brie turned and rode out of the yard. Caroline had to spur her mare into a canter to keep from being left behind.
"Brie, are you sure you're all right?" she asked when she caught up.
Brie laughed shakily. "Why is everyone suddenly so concerned with my health? I am perfectly well, I assure you."
"Well, you look pale, like you've just seen a ghost."
Brie shook her head. Stanton was only a man, after all, not a specter. But she couldn't prevent her own silent thoughts from surfacing. "No, not a ghost, dear cousin," she murmured to herself. "Just my own, private devil come to haunt me."
It was early afternoon when Dominic arrived at the Lodge. Homer Dawson was obviously pleased to see him, for the elderly man beamed and bobbed as he accepted Dominic's beaver hat and greatcoat.
Dominic was in the process of asking about Mattie's recovery when he heard the sounds of clashing steel and feminine laughter issuing from the vicinity of the drawing room. When Homer explained that a fencing lesson was in progress, Dominic's curiosity was aroused. He followed the sounds to the drawing room, pausing at the door to survey the scene.
The furniture had been pushed to one side to clear a space on the floor, while near the door, a pink-cheeked young lady was perched on the edge of a chair, trying to stifle a nervous giggle as she watched the action. In the center of the room, Julian was dancing across the carpet in his stockinged feet, gaily wielding a foil. But it was his opponent, a slender, auburn-haired woman, who captured Dominic's complete attention.
His gray eyes narrowed as he studied Brie. She was dressed in breeches again, her hair tied back with a ribbon, her face flushed with excitement. Dominic's most immediate thought was that the image branded upon his memory did not do justice to her beauty. The delicate features were even lovelier than he recalled. He let his eyes roam freely over the shapely figure in male attire. She had been wearing a heavy coat that day in the meadow, but without it, her feminine curves were far more pronounced. Dominic's gaze swept downward, gliding over the provocative breasts, the narrow waist, the slim hips. Not voluptuous, certainly, but as enticing as any man could wish.
He watched as she moved gracefully across the floor, realizing with surprise that she was responding skillfully to Julian's every action. Seeing the brilliant smile she bestowed on her opponent as she managed a particularly fine riposte, Dominic knew a moment of sheer envy. Julian was obviously well acquainted with her. Perhaps he was the one who was enjoying the vixen's charms, after all. It was obvious that he took pleasure in their relationship, whatever that might be.
Dominic folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorjamb, prepared to wait for the contest to end. It was only a moment before Brie succeeded in disarming Julian with a rapid wrist action, sending his foil flying.
Her exclamation of delight was met with praise from her opponent. "Brava!" Julian cried. "I couldn't have done it better myself." As he bent to retrieve his sword, he noticed his guest for the first time. "Dominic!" he said cheerfully. "Welcome! Come in, and allow me to introduce you to my neighbors."
In the excitement of the match, Brie hadn't noticed Dominic's arrival, but at Julian's greeting she whirled. When her startled eyes locked with the gray ones she remembered so well, the jolt she received was so unexpected that she dropped her foil. Staring at Dominic, Brie could feel the color drain from her cheeks. He was just as striking as she remembered, with his black hair and dark, aristocratic features, but the piercing intentness of his gaze was unnerving. Only with great difficulty was she able to control a shudder. As she mechanically bent to pick up her fallen weapon, she vaguely heard Julian performing introductions.
"Brie, Caroline, may I present my very good friend, Dominic Serrault, Lord Stanton. Dom, this is one of my neighbors, Brie Carringdon, and her cousin, Miss Caroline Langley. Caroline is visiting from London."
Brie couldn't bring herself to speak. She could only stand there, staring dumbly as Dominic strode into the room. Caroline was not so stricken. Rather embarrassed by her cousin's rudeness, in fact, she rose and curtsied, politely offering her hand.
Dominic bowed over it, then turned to Brie, one dark brow raised in question. He thought he understood the wary look she was giving him—she feared his retaliation. And no doubt she was worried he would reveal their prior acquaintance. But since she had gone to such trouble to conceal her identity from him earlier, he decided to play along with her for the time being.
His eyes boldly swept her figure, lingering on the curves revealed by the close-fitting breeches. "Lady Carringdon?" he asked innocently, giving her a sardonic smile.
Brie clutched her foil close to her body as if to shield herself against his mockery, but she met his deliberate stare without flinching. "Miss Carringdon, my lord," she replied coolly, inclining her head a fraction.
"Not a lady? Forgive me for the mistake." The verbal thrust drew an immediate response from her, and Dominic was unaccountably pleased to see the sparks that flashed in her eyes. He smiled down at her lazily.
r /> Brie pressed her own lips together in annoyance, understanding his insinuation perfectly. But even if her behavior had been lacking, her antecedents were perfectly acceptable. "My father was Sir William Carringdon," she said, her voice edged with anger. "Perhaps you were acquanted with him, my lord?" Her disclosure did not have the effect she was hoping for, for there was no change in Dominic's expression.
He was surprised, though. Brie had the bearing and beauty of a princess, but from her style of dress and the passionate way she had responded to his advances, he never would have guessed that she was a gently-bred lady of no mean social standing. She was an enigma, certainly. He wanted to know about her, a great deal more.
But he had to be patient, Dominic told himself. "I had the pleasure of meeting your father some years ago," he said mildly. "I didn't know him well, but I was acquainted with his reputation. He was an excellent horseman, was he not?"