What a Wicked Earl Wants (12 page)

Justin swerved his gaze to Bellingham.

“Do you fence?” Bellingham asked.

“No,” Justin said.

“Since you’re in London, you might give it a go,” he said.

Justin shrugged.

Everyone was silent until the carriage slowed and rocked to a halt. Bellingham got out and assisted Laura.

After Justin emerged, Bellingham turned to him. “If you’re interested in fencing, I could give you pointers.”

Justin stared at him. “Why would you do that?”

“You looked interested when I mentioned fencing. It’s your choice.”

Justin hesitated. “All right.”

“Thursday, ten sharp,” Bellingham said. “I’ll take you in my carriage.”

Laura smoothed her skirt to hide her surprise at both of them. Had Bellingham made the offer because he felt obliged, as he’d said earlier? She wasn’t certain his involvement was wise. He certainly didn’t strike her as one to make commitments, and Justin had made no secret of his low opinion of Bellingham. Then why had he agreed to the fencing lesson?

She would never understand men. “Thank you for taking us home, Lord Bellingham.”

He bowed.

Laura expected Justin to stride up the pavement, but he offered her his arm. She blinked, because he’d never done it before. At first she thought it was sweet of him, until her son sent a triumphant look at Bellingham. Laura winced as her son led her to the door. The last thing she needed was for her son to become overprotective and overbearing.

B
ellingham paced about Laura’s anteroom. He hoped Justin would not prove obstinate about rising from his bed before noon. If he chose to waste the day, there was nothing he could do. He’d made the offer because of the implied promise that he would provide some guidance to the young man. However, he would not spend his every free hour trying to discipline a recalcitrant adolescent. It was just as well, because Laura did not appreciate when he took over.

He halted at the sound of a feminine voice in the foyer. Laura’s voice. Whenever she spoke, her words held a soft, breathy quality. The devil. Next thing he knew he’d be writing odes to her soft, breathy voice.

She walked into the anteroom. “Justin will be down directly.”

He clasped his hands behind his back. “Good.”

She’d draped an enormous blue shawl over her white gown. An elaborate braid was wrapped round her head, leading him to suspect her hair was very long. Granted, he could never really tell until the pins and the hair came down.

He told himself not to think about unraveling the braid, but his fertile imagination conjured a picture of her standing naked with her blond hair flowing over her breasts. He really must stop devising naked scenarios of her. That would only make things harder, figuratively and literally.

“I think Justin is eager for his fencing lesson,” she said. “He would never say so, but he rose early for breakfast. A few minutes ago, he ran back upstairs to collect the gloves he forgot.”

The clip of boot heels on the marble floor alerted both of them. Justin entered the anteroom with a wary expression.

“Ah, you’re ready,” Bell said. “Shall we be on our way?”

Justin nodded and followed him outside. After they’d climbed into the carriage, Bell knocked on the ceiling with his cane. The carriage rocked into motion. Bell regarded the young man who sat across from him, but Justin kept his gaze turned to the window. The silence was awkward, but he figured Justin had no idea what to say.

Bell would have to initiate the conversation. “We’ll start with the basics today, but once you learn the correct grip and strengthen your muscles, you can face a well-trained opponent.”

Justin regarded him with a cynical expression. “Meaning you?”

“Yes. If you practice, your skills will improve over time.”

“How long have you been fencing?” Justin asked.

“Since I was nineteen.” He thought a moment and decided to stretch the truth a bit to encourage Justin. “I wanted to begin when I was your age, but my father said I was too scrawny.”

“You?”

“Yes, I was tall, but I looked like a twig with big feet.”

Justin looked amused and huffed.

“Fencing helped build my muscles,” Bell said. “Mind you, it didn’t happen overnight.”

Justin said nothing, but at least he was polite today.

They remained silent until the carriage rolled to a halt at Angelo’s. They climbed out and walked inside the academy. The place smelled of sweat, and the clang of blades rang out. Foils hung crossed inside the arched wall niches.

“I’ll introduce you to Angelo,” Bell said. “Let’s consult him about a weapon for you.”

After Bell made the introduction, the chevalier regarded him with an inscrutable expression. Then he bowed and bade them to follow him to choose a foil. Bell eyed the blades and made a few suggestions. Angelo concurred that the pistol grip foil was a good choice for a beginner.

“I will leave you to your demonstration for now,” Angelo said.

Justin’s eyes registered wariness again. Bell wondered if the boy’s defensiveness stemmed from a lack of confidence and resolved to make the experience as positive as possible.

After removing their coats, Bell demonstrated the grip with his own foil. “The mistake beginners make is holding the blade too tightly,” he said. “In order to attack or parry, your wrist has to be flexible. Grip the weapon as if it is a fragile figurine.”

Justin loosened his grip and immediately tightened it.

“It takes practice,” Bell said. “Use two or three fingers with your grip.”

Justin experimented with three fingers. Eventually, his grip relaxed. Bell noted he had too much bend at the wrist and corrected it. Then he showed Justin how to slightly bend his elbow for the en garde. “Hold the blade aligned with your forearm,” Bell said.

Justin’s brows furrowed as he tried again.

“It’s a bit tedious in the beginning,” Bell said, “but mastering the grip is necessary.”

“Right.” He blew out his breath, a sign of his frustration.

“We’ll work on the grip the next time. Let’s work on your foot position,” Bell said. “The idea is to point your toe in the direction of your challenger. The knee should be vertically aligned with your toe.”

When Justin assumed the position, Bell nodded. “You got it right away.”

“Feels strange,” Justin said.

“Nevertheless, you caught on quickly. Most beginners struggle.”

Justin shrugged. “I got one thing right.”

Justin’s surliness could possibly be a cover for a lack of confidence. If so, he might find a greater measure of his own worth by successfully learning to fence. “The techniques will become second nature to you if you practice on a regular basis,” Bell said.

“All I’ve done is stand around posing,” Justin said. “I haven’t even broken a sweat.”

“I understand,” Bell said. “If you wish to fence, you must be patient, but if you’re willing to work at it, you will find it rewarding.”

Justin shrugged again as if he didn’t care.

“Next time we’ll add lunges to the practice session,” Bell said.

Someone clapped him on the back. Bell turned to find Colin and introduced him to Justin. “Where is Harry?”

“His manservant said he was still abed.”

“It’s almost eleven o’clock,” Bell said.

Colin cleared his throat. “He’s having
bachelor fare
for breakfast.”

Bell nodded at the euphemism for a woman of the demirep.

Justin snorted. “You mean he’s bedding a trollop.”

“Apparently there is no need to protect his tender ears.” Bell narrowed his eyes. “I’m sure you’ve heard worse.”

“Seen worse, too,” Justin said.

Bell narrowed his eyes. “We’ll talk soon.”

Justin pulled a face.

“We’ll talk,” Bell reiterated.

Colin grinned at Bell. “Shall we end today’s session with an impromptu bout?”

“He just wants to show off,” Bell said to Justin.

“What? Are you afraid I’ll beat you?” Colin said.

Bell selected a blade. “Prepare to lose.”

A crowd gathered round as Bell and Colin saluted one another. Then Bell advanced. Colin parried, and Bell counterparried. Their blades clanged when they engaged. Bell and Colin disengaged momentarily only to advance again. Bell feinted and heard his friend hiss, and when he executed a running attack, Colin bared his teeth as he parried. Sweat ran in rivulets down Bell’s face, but his heart raced as the blades clanged, and once more, he ran forward to attack.

Colin parried, but Bell’s instinct to fight overruled him, and he attacked again. When the bout ended, Colin saluted him. The crowd applauded.

Colin slapped Bell on the shoulder. “I’ll beat you one of these days.”

“You can try,” Bell said with a cocky grin. He toweled off the perspiration and looked round for Justin. Where the devil had he gone? Bell slung his coat over his shoulder and strode off in search of the young man. Several acquaintances stopped to congratulate him. The whole time, Bell felt uneasy about Laura’s son. Blast it all. The last thing he needed was for Justin to find trouble on his watch. When another acquaintance approached, Bell cleared his throat. “Excuse me. I’ve got to take care of a matter.”

Male voices reverberated in the building. Bell’s jaw tightened as he searched. Then he spotted Justin walking toward the door with two other boys. He recognized the brawny one he’d seen driving the curricle and wondered if Justin had planned to leave with them.

The brawny boy said something to Justin as he opened the door. Justin looked over his shoulder and halted. Bell arched his brows.

The other two boys quit the place.

Bell said nothing as they stepped outside to wait for his carriage. Justin waved as his friend steered his curricle wildly into traffic, nearly colliding with a man driving a cart.

“Your friend is reckless,” Bell said.

Justin shrugged one shoulder.

When Bell’s carriage turned the corner, he raised his arm to hail it. After it arrived, Bell gave the driver Laura’s address and climbed in after Justin. The boy turned his face to the window. He obviously didn’t want to discuss what had happened back there.

Bell waited until the carriage rolled into motion before speaking. “Were you planning to leave with your friends?”

“I was only talking to them,” Justin said.

“The one with the curricle, what is his name?”

“George.”

Bell narrowed his eyes. “Where was he going?”

“What difference does it make?” Justin said.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“A cockfight.”

Bell frowned. “The devil. It’s disgusting. Surely you didn’t want to see it.”

“I didn’t go,” Justin said.

But he would have if Bell had not been there. “I wager he taunted you because you didn’t.”

Something flickered in Justin’s eyes. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know that if you continue carousing, there will be hell to pay.”

“Why do you care?”

He set his hat aside. “This isn’t about me. It’s about your mother. If something bad happens to you, she will be devastated.”

“Stay away from my mother,” he said in a threatening tone.

“I’m not the one wounding her.”

Justin’s nostrils flared. “I know all about you.”

“I doubt it,” Bell said.

“You’re a rake. If you hurt her, you’ll answer to me,” Justin said.

“While I’m glad you’re protective of your mother, you’re giving her insufficient credit. She’s perfectly capable of making sound judgments.”

Justin scowled. “I know your reputation with women.”

“Your mother is a lady, and I treat her as one.”

“Right,” he spat out. “By taking her down a secluded path.”

Bell recalled Justin’s reaction at the Venetian breakfast. He’d come to the wrong conclusion. He sighed. “You were embarrassed because your friends were there.”

Justin returned his attention to the window. He obviously didn’t want to talk about it, and Bell decided to let the matter rest.

Neither of them said anything. Bell looked out the window at the bustling, diverse crowd. He’d spent part of every year in London as far back as he could remember. To him, the scenery was so familiar he rarely paid attention unless a cart overturned, impeding traffic. However, this was Justin’s first trip to the city. Bell tried to imagine it from the boy’s perspective. Compared to a sleepy village, the city must seem chaotic and foreign. The streets were crowded with all manner of pedestrians, wagons, and vehicles. Costermongers hawked their fruits and vegetables in unintelligible lower-class accents. At a corner, a crossing sweeper cleared the refuse and horse droppings for a pair of ladies and nearly got trampled by a man on horseback.

At long last the carriage turned into the square and rolled to a halt at Laura’s town house. Justin moved over on the seat, but Bell held up his hand to stop him. “There is something I wish to say.”

Justin released a loud sigh.

“You’re not the first young buck to sow wild oats, but if you’re not careful, you’re likely to get in over your head.”

“You’re not my guardian.”

“No, I’m not, but your mother worries.”

“I worry, too—about you.”

“What?” Bell said.

“You can’t fool me,” Justin said. “The fencing lessons were a way to get in my mother’s good graces, weren’t they?”

“The purpose was to engage you in a healthy activity, rather than drinking yourself sick every night.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I think you’re trying to divert the topic, because we both know you meant to go to that cockfight,” Bell said.

“Are you finished?” Justin said.

“Whether you wish to continue the fencing practice is your decision, but know this. I’m not your enemy.” Bell opened the carriage door and climbed out.

When Justin emerged, Bell meant to escort him inside, but Justin shook his head. “You’re not invited.”

“I mean to speak to your mother,” he said.

“No,” Justin said. “A man like you has only one thing in mind, and I won’t let you touch her.”

As Justin strode off to the door, Bell muttered, “You’re a bit late for that.”

Frustrated, he waited until Justin entered the town house. Then he got back in the carriage and knocked his cane on the roof. He’d meant to give Laura a report of the fencing lessons, but he had also wanted to see her. A voice deep inside asked,
To what end?

She’d made it clear there could never be anything intimate between them.

There were plenty of widows and courtesans he could have with the mere snap of his fingers. Hell, they flirted and dropped blatant hints. He’d taken what they so easily offered more times than he could count and walked away without a backward glance.

He’d asked her if they could be friends. What the devil had he been thinking?

The next evening, White’s

Harry patted his stomach. “Excellent dinner.”

Bell finished his cheesecake and coffee. “Gentlemen, shall we repair to my town house for a game of billiards?”

“Sounds like an excellent idea to me,” Harry said.

“I wager a pony I’ll win the first game,” Colin said.

“Twenty-five pounds?” Harry said in an outraged voice.

“If you lose, Colin will loan you the money,” Bell said.

“What?” Colin said. “You’re the one with plump pockets.”

Bell pushed back his chair and started to rise, but a waiter hurried to the table, carrying a silver salver.

“My lord, your footman delivered a message,” he said.

Frowning, Bell opened it. He caught his breath. Laura had asked him to call about a matter concerning her son. “What the devil has he done now?” Bell muttered.