Spinster's Gambit (3 page)

Aspen felt a jolt of sympathy for Daniel's cousin, though he'd already forgotten the boy's name. Lord, but the lad was an awkward fellow, half incapable of even bowing without falling over himself. He was thin and frail looking, but his ill-fitting waistcoat stretched badly over his chest, revealing an unfortunately placed layer of fat. He wore a white, long-tailed wig that bunched up in curls around his ears, as if he’d walked out of a pawn shop believing himself sophisticated. Aspen decided not to comment, and led the two into the training room he'd occupied beside the front door, only to turn and see the lad glide into the room, his hips swinging strangely. The boy couldn't be older than eighteen – he hadn't even a suggestion of hair on his face - but Aspen thought that degree of awkwardness had to be more than adolescence.

Aspen returned to the fencing drills he'd abandoned at Daniel's arrival, doing his best to ignore his friend's very bad fencing instruction. The man was a brilliant duelist but his teaching style was absurd.

“Excellent, now throw your front leg forward and land with your knee bent. No no, see, with a good deal of force behind it. And let your upper body stand up straight, as if you hadn't moved from en garde at all. Your leg should be at a right angle to – no no, don't lean forward,” Daniel told the boy. Aspen watched in the mirror at the end of the room as the short, gangly boy attempted the lunge. The lad looked as if he were attempting to walk a tightrope, waving his hands at his sides wildly. His wig flopped around his shoulders, leaving a spray of powder on his ill-fitting waistcoat. He looked like a circus clown.

“Keep your balance, Jack!” Daniel called out as the boy wavered. ‘Jack’, then, Aspen noted.

“I'm curious, are you as bad at fencing as you are at teaching, or does your skill somehow get lost between your brain and your face?” the lad replied, his tone polite, turning to face Daniel head on. Aspen barked out a laugh, grinning at the pair. The boy glanced at him in the mirror, wide-eyed, and seemed to sink back into his shell. Aspen smiled easily at him.

Boy's got bite,
he thought, glad to hear the lad wasn't as witless as he'd seemed.  

“Never considered the fact that you're too daft to teach, have you?” Daniel asked.

“No, but I’ve certainly considered the notion that you may be so,” the boy replied primly and Daniel laughed. Aspen chuckled under his breath, wishing he could think of a response that would let him join the exchange. He refocused on his drills instead, doing his best to ignore the pair.

~~//~~

Jac blinked at the duke's laugh. Apparently he wasn't completely humorless.

Perhaps he is only terse in great crowds?
she wondered, though the thought hardly improved her opinion of him. But Lord, that didn't mean it wasn't entertaining to watch him practice. The duke was set up straight in front of her, leaving her with little else to look at, though she would hardly have complained. He was a tall broad-shouldered man. His body pushed into a lunge and pulled out of it like it was no effort at all, the muscles beneath his thin shirt clenching and releasing. The same move had her panting and flailing her arms for balance. She only had to avoid looking in the mirror to keep from seeing the scars on his face and he was quite handsome indeed.

His scars covered his left hand and wrist, stretching into his shirtsleeve. She'd never seen that detail before. Jac wondered where else the scars touched and tore her eyes away, hoping Daniel didn't read the thought on her face.

However bad Daniel may have been at instructing, she was enjoying herself as she hadn't since they were but very young children - before he'd gone off to school and she'd started learning asinine ways to sit and eat and talk and throw dinner parties. Her heart beat with the danger of being discovered but it was a thrill Jac was surprised to be relishing. The duke believed her costume; that was clear. He kept to himself and his physical practice and Jac began to settle into the lessons, trying to learn. They'd only just started another session of lunging and flailing back to standing when the duke approached them. 

“Your front foot should land heel-first or you risk sliding,” he suggested. Jac glanced down at her feet, unsure what he meant. She glanced at Daniel but the man was too busy nodding in agreement to assist her. 

“I confess I have no idea of what I am attempting,” she admitted, doing her best to keep her eyes politely averted from his scars. She decided to look at his feet, instead.

“I am hardly surprised. I’ve been convinced for years that your instructor is daft,” the duke joked cheerfully, settling into a fencing stance beside her.

“The thought had occurred to me,” she replied, grinning happily at the easy humor she could employ when she did not need to appear dainty and nearly brainless.

“Oy!” Daniel complained, but he backed up to get out of the way. 

“Start with your feet like so, touching at the heels with your toes apart. Now bend your knees and rock back and forth, heel to toe. Good,” Aspen said,  demonstrating the movement. “Now feel what it's like to shift your weight into one foot and free the other, then switch, back and forth.” Jac copied him and he smiled easily, looking almost approachable for a moment.

“Step forward with your right foot. Keep your knees bent and your upper body straight. You don't want to bend forward or you will never be able to hit.” The duke moved slowly letting her watch him in the mirror. “Now push off with your back foot and advance a step, keeping the same distance between your feet. Good! Try to keep your heels on the same line. Use the cracks in the wood floor, if it helps,” the duke said, taking another step forward to demonstrate. Jac nodded firmly and advanced again, trying to keep her body steady and calm.

“Now retreat, using your front foot to propel yourself,” he ordered. “Advance. Retreat. Advance, advance, retreat. Good! Now advance around the room until your legs want to fall off to the side. I'll teach you how to lunge when you can advance in a straight line without wavering,” he ordered. Jac felt sweat start to build up on her back and blushed, uncertain about exerting herself in front of a man. Fortunately, the duke turned away and started toward Daniel, suggesting that they duel while she practiced. 

They left her to herself and Jacoline focused on her footwork, her fear slowly falling away.

“I have business. I'll see you both here next week, I trust?” the duke’s voice startled her out of her concentration. Jac wavered, almost falling out of her stance, and looked up to see the man standing a few feet in front of her. He bowed shortly and Jac did her best to bow back. The duke nodded easily to Daniel and walked away, leaving Jac to blink at her brother and wonder if he would help her disguise herself once again. It would be unusual in the extreme for a man to visit his cousin for less than a week, having travelled at least two days in coach from Abingdon. 

“Oh...dear,” Daniel said succinctly once the duke had gone.

“You didn't happen to mention a cousin visiting only very briefly a week or so ago, did you?” Jac asked quietly.

“As it happens, no. That’ll draw some odd questions,” he replied, smiling and not looking particularly concerned. “We’ll simply have to come again,” he concluded. Jac beamed at him. Daniel smiled back at her easily, understanding in his eyes.

“You're enjoying this too much,” she accused, glancing down at her ill-fitting breeches.

“Evidently,” he agreed. “En garde, let's continue.”

~~//~~

“We are going to be late,” Jac hissed, glancing through the carriage curtains at the footmen swarming outside of their townhouse. They were parked across the street but there was no way to exit the carriage without being seen. Mrs. John Clarence’s soiree had likely started a half hour before and she was still dressed as a man, trapped in a carriage outside their home two miles from their destination. At this rate, they would be announcing themselves while Mrs. Clarence was dismissing the other guests. She was going to be furious. Jac wondered how many women the widow would need to complain to before Daniel and she had the reputation of being late to
everything.
Jac rested her forehead on the cool glass window and watched the footmen’s slow progress unloading crates of coal from the cart parked in front of the servants’ entrance.

“Not much we can do about it,” Daniel answered, leaning back in his seat and stretching out his legs, apparently preparing to sleep. 

She should have realized it would be more difficult to sneak her back inside, Jac thought, biting her lip. The servants were never concerned about who
left
their home, but who entered it was a different matter. Daniel tipped his hat to cover his eyes. 

“I could enter thus dressed,” Jac murmured, glancing down at her breeches. “Surely a man entering the house with you is not so very odd.” 

Daniel shook his head gently, careful not to dislodge his hat.

“Too risky. If the servants noticed you were gone they’ll be looking for you now. They might recognize you,” he stated. Jac sighed, frustrated, and pulled the curtains aside again. 

“It’s not fashionable to be this late. It’s impolite,” Jac worried aloud.

“I’m curious. How precisely did you plan to enter the house as a man by my side only to reappear as a woman without the whole of the staff discovering us? The Gazette would be typesetting an exposé on the two of us within the hour,” Daniel replied, his voice light. 

“And your solution?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in what she hoped was an intimidating manner. It was lost on Daniel, who did not bother to look out from beneath his hat at her tone. 

“We wait,” he replied.

“And miss the soirée?” Jac asked, glancing out of the window at the tall pile of crates still waiting on the cart. 

“It does look that way,” Daniel answered. Jac nodded and let herself sink into her seat.

“It occurs to me,” Jac started, blinking slowly at the realization and sitting back up, worry threatening to overwhelm her. “This carriage driver will see me disappear into the house.” 

Daniel stirred finally and lifted a finger to tip his hat back from his eyes to watch her, his gaze oddly wary. 

“It’s why I pay him so handsomely. Carriage drivers are the only servants who truly know everything a man is doing. Harold will not say a word,” Daniel promised. Jac blinked, surprised. Daniel always seemed so forthcoming; she’d never thought he would have anything worth paying a driver to hide. Daniel relaxed back against the carriage seat and his hat slid back over his eyes.
“Won’t anyone notice that a carriage is just waiting here?” Jac asked, wondering if she were pestering him. 

“They’ll think it’s empty. We could stay in here for-” 

Daniel stilled and slowly started to grin. He sat up and pressed a finger against his hat to set it back atop his head. 

“Or…” he drawled, his eyes sparkling mischievously. Jac rose her eyebrows at his antics, waiting for him to get to the point. “You shall get redressed in here,” he announced, looking pleased with himself and jerking the curtains further closed around them. Jac felt her mouth drop open. 

“Excuse me, do what?” she demanded. Daniel pointed at their house. 

“I have little doubt your absence was long since discovered. If we sneak you into the house and walk out together, the servants will be rightfully puzzled,” he stated. Jac frowned. 

“I fail to see how that results in my stripping in our estate coach,” she replied, raising her eyebrows at her brother’s lunacy. Daniel grinned at her, apparently unperturbed. 

“I shall fetch your effects,” he said, reaching for the door handle. 

“I cannot change in here!” Jac screeched, only to wince at her own high pitched panic. Daniel rubbed an ear and glared at her. 

“If you do, the servants will have little to question, except for your disappearance this morning. I shall reassure them that you spent the day with me and we will have little to fear,” he replied, as if that should tempt her. 

“Your point?” Jac asked, frowning and Daniel bit his lip, his eyes lighting up. He looked like a child again, Jac thought, remembering the years before he left for schooling, when they were not so constrained and not so strange to each other. 

“We can do this again,” he stated. Jac felt her eyes widen and excitement rush through her at the words. 

“Go,” she urged. Daniel grinned again and slipped out of the carriage door. Jac glanced around the cramped carriage box, wondering how she was going to manage to pull on her dress in the small space. She’d have to make it work, she decided, starting to undo the buttons at the back of her collar. 

They were indeed late, unpardonably so. Mrs. Clarence smiled tightly at them as they entered and Jac curtsied deeply, giving their apologies. The widow stared back at her, one thick eyebrow raised disapprovingly and scowled toward a seat in a gesture Jacoline decided to interpret as a request that she sit. 

She set herself to mingling quietly, trying to keep from beaming at every closed face around her. She’d found a way to get out of the persona of Mr. Jack Holcombe and safely return home. Daniel’s coachman, Harold, had helped her from the coach smiling benignly and looking utterly unaware that he had let two men into his coach only to find himself helping a woman out of it. He had to know their secret but he’d done nothing but pull his hand away from her when she was steady and step out of Daniel’s way as her brother hauled himself through the carriage doors to step down beside her. Jac had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing aloud for she would be fencing again before the month was over.

CHAPTER THREE

Aspen slowed his pace to match Miss Musgrave's. He had hope for her. She seemed sensible enough, albeit somewhat unfriendly toward him. He'd seen her half a dozen times laughing with her friends and she was one of the prettier of her year. As a baronet's daughter, she wasn't likely to refuse him, either. He'd met her in Hyde Park intentionally but now that he had her walking with him he wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do. She seemed vaguely uncomfortable, curling a strand of her blond hair around her finger while they strode down the dirt path together.