“Tom, will you stop your infernal pacing?” James muttered, his face behind his paper. “You’ll wear out all the rugs.”
Captain Renley groaned, halting before the wide-open window. “If only this snow would stop. Three days home, and I’ve been trapped indoors for all of them. I feel like a caged animal. How can you all stand it?”
“You are simply bored,” called Burke from his place by the fire, lounging on the sofa with a book in hand. “Occupy yourself, and you’ll find the peculiar sensation will soon cease.”
Captain Renley just grumbled, resuming his pacing.
They were all gathered in the morning room. Madeline and Rosalie sat at the table, needlework in hand. Madeline had never cared for embroidery. It was more to have something to do with her hands. She felt the same as Captain Renley, unfocused and unsettled.
Yesterday was the funeral for Mr. Selby. Madeline was forced to watch from across the room as Charles accepted the well-wishes of the whole of Finchley. Everyone came to pay their respects, from Doctor Rivers to tradesmen and pig farmers. Even several of the fire victims were in attendance, dutifully shaking Charles’s hand and offering their condolences.
The duke and duchess hosted a wake at the assembly room, providing a hot meal for anyone who passed through. It was a long affair. At the end, Charles had looked so defeated, so lost. Madeline wanted to take him in her arms and hold him tight. She didn’t have the words to condole him, having never lost a parent, but she ought to be able to do…something.
As it was, Renley took her arm and escorted her out, back to Alcott. The snows were falling so thick and heavy, she feared she wouldn’t be able to venture out the window again tonight. And she needed to see Charles again. She needed things settled between them at last.
“There has to be two feet of snow at least,” Renley muttered. “And more is still falling.”
“I think it looks pretty as a picture,” said Rosalie, gazing wistfully out the windows to watch the flurries. “Perhaps we could sketch it, Madeline. It’s been too long since I practiced my watercolors.”
Renley groaned again, flopping down onto the sofa across from Burke, one arm thrown over his eyes. “Please, do not ask me to watch you paint snowscapes. I shall climb the walls.”
“No one is asking you to do anything,” Rosalie replied, her lips pursed into a quiet smile.
“Yes, but you’re going to,” he countered. “And I refuse. Let James sit and admire your brushstrokes. I have no patience for it.”
“My, but someone is feeling irritable this morning,” she replied.
“He’s bored,” Burke said again.
Renley sat up, his eyes narrowed at Burke. “You try going from a life of constant movement, feeling the sway of the sea beneath you, to sitting idly on a couch,” he replied. “And Christ, must all the clocks in this house tick so loudly?”
The room quieted and Madeline had to suppress her own smile. For in the quiet, the subtle tick, tick, tick of the mantle clock echoed like a shotgun blast. She glanced at Rosalie, the two of them exchanging a grin.
Captain Renley launched to his feet again. “Right, that’s it. Up, you lot. I can’t sit still for another minute.”
“You’d have to be still for a minute first, before you can claim another,” James muttered from behind his paper.
“What do you expect us to do?” said Burke, snapping his book shut, clearly more willing to be distracted.
“I don’t know…something,” said Renley. “Anything. Let’s play a game. Blind man’s bluff?”
“I’m not blindfolding my pregnant wife and having her stumble about the room knocking into furniture,” James replied, turning the page of his paper.
“And we are not twelve years old,” Burke added.
“Bowls, then,” said Renley. “We can set it up in the hallway.”
“That contest is over before it begins,” Burke said with a laugh, sitting forward. “James is rubbishing at bowls.”
“Who said I was playing?” came the duke’s rebuttal.
“You should play a round of fencing,” called Rosalie, flashing Madeline a smile. “I’m sure Madeline will be happy to be your fourth.”
All three men turned their gazes to her.
“Do you know how to fence?” said Mr. Burke, grey eyes alight with interest.
She glanced at Rosalie before giving him a curt nod. “Yes, sir.”
“Don’t let her be modest,” said Rosalie. “I’m sure she’ll give you a run for your money, Burke.”
Captain Renley was already on the move. “Right, excellent. Fencing it is then. James, put that paper away and join the fun, or I’ll stuff your breeches with snow!”
In the span of twenty minutes, the men had commandeered use of the main gallery, which was wide enough and long enough to be used as a rudimentary piste. Madeline took a seat next to Rosalie, watching as Captain Renley and the duke donned vests and masks.
Burke tossed them each a foil. “First to five, eh? And, James, play fair! We may not be in Haymarket, but Angelo’s rules still apply.”
“I’m the one you’re concerned about?” James replied, shrugging the mask on over his head. “Tom is a dirty cheat.”
“I take offense,” Tom exclaimed, lowering his own mask. “I am an officer in His Majesty’s Royal Navy!”
“You’re a dirty pirate, Tom, and you know it,” said Burke with a laugh. “Now, en garde!”
“And we’re supposed to assume they all like each other?” Madeline murmured to a smiling Rosalie.
“Teasing is their love language,” she replied, leaning back in her chair as she watched the captain take the first lunge, chasing the duke down the piste with his foil slashing through the air.
It was over quickly, with Captain Renley making short work of the duke. James had flawless footwork, but he was slow to attack, and he didn’t guard his left shoulder. Meanwhile, the captain was a hurricane—cutting and slicing away, always keeping James on his back foot.
“Well done,” James said with a panting breath, lifting his mask.
“Again,” Renley taunted.
The duke shook his head. “Let me catch my breath.”
“And it is Madeline’s turn,” Rosalie called.
Madeline stifled a groan. She’d never actually thought Rosalie was serious. She assumed the men would enjoy their sport and take it in turns between them. But Renley was already stripping out of his gear, handing it over to Burke.
“Can she fence in a dress?” the duke said with a raised brow.
Madeline felt her ire rise.
Next to her, Rosalie huffed in indignation. “Honestly, James. We women are more capable than you think.”
“Well…how can she lunge?” he said with shrug.
Madeline bolted to her feet, holding out her hand. “Give me the foil, sir, and I’ll show you a thing or two about lunging.”
Behind him, Burke and Renley broke into twin grins, their murmured conversation cut short. “Yeah, sit down, James,” Burke teased. “Let us both show you how it’s done.”
The duke made quick work of shedding his vest and handing it over to Madeline. It was two sizes too big, but she shrugged it on over her powder blue silk dress. Then she tugged on the glove and snatched for the mask. It felt good to be in the gear again. The moment he handed her the foil and she wrapped her fingers around it, she took a calming breath.
“Right then, Madeline,” Burke called. “Let’s give this lot a show.”
Captain Renley sank down onto the chair next to Rosalie, murmuring something in her ear that had her smiling. James leaned against the wall, accepting a glass of wine from a waiting footman.
Madeline took up her position, sizing up Mr. Burke through the mesh wire of her mask. He was nearly three times bigger than her. He’d use his size to intimidate her. She’d have to use her speed.
“En garde!” called Captain Renley.
Madeline and Burke both saluted with their foils and then Burke was inching forward, giving her foil a teasing tap. One, two, three quick parries. He was going easy on her. There was nothing she liked less than a man thinking it was his duty to take it easy on the fairer sex.
With a burst of speed, she lunged forward, feeling the tug of her skirts at her knee, but it was enough to land the point of her foil clear on Mr. Burke’s chest.
“A hit,” he called. “Acknowledged.”
“Well done, Madeline!” cried Rosalie as the other two clapped.
They took up their positions and restarted, Burke barreling down on her with speed and stamina. She used her smaller size and sank low, darting to the left as she swung to the side, her foil poking him low on the ribs.
“That’s a hit!” called the captain, almost giddy with excitement at watching Madeline gain another point.
“Are you even trying, Burke?” James teased.
“I like you this way, Madeline,” said Renley. “The little bee can sting, eh Burke?”
Madeline couldn’t help but smile inside her mask.
“Again,” Burke barked.
Madeline’s nerves began to grow. She was upsetting him. Horatio Burke was a competitive man. He liked to win as much as she did. She readied herself, trying to guess his attack. The duke called en garde and Burke charged.
He held his own this time, clearly done giving her any points she didn’t earn. The danced down the gallery, his footwork fast and his parries vicious. She nearly tripped on the hem of her dress, taking a stumbling step to the right. She used her suddenly change in weight to her advantage, swinging left with her hand, the tip of her foil just barely tapping him above the hip.
“God damn it!”
“You do know you’re supposed to hit me with that, right?” she teased, earning a growl from the gentleman as the others howled with laughter.
“Again!” He was already marching off back to their starting point.
“Three-nil to Madeline,” called the duke.
“I know the bloody score,” Burke grumbled.
“Don’t be a sore loser, Burke,” said Rosalie. “It is not your fault you underestimated her.”
“Would you like a few pointers now, Burke?” teased the captain.
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Careful, Madeline,” called the duke. “He’s out for blood now. He’s going to aim small for the point just above your shoulder—”
“James, will you shut up!”
Madeline still smiled. She took up her position, floating on the balls of her feet, her foil at the ready. “Hit me if you can, sir. I should warn you, I do not intend to lose this match.”
He grumbled, crouching low as he took up his stance. “Just get on with it.”
As Burke readied to lunge, a footman came sweeping around the corner, moving towards them with Charles in tow. He wore his mourning clothes—a somber back coat and black cravat. He saw her, eyes wide as he slid to a stop. She was distracted just long enough for Burke to lunge forward, viciously stabbing with his foil right in the center of her chest.
“Hit!” crowed Burke.
She gasped, nearly stumbling back.
“Oh, well done,” Renley teased. “You got a point. Now you’re only two behind—”
“Again,” said Burke, riding the thrill of his won point.
Madeline just stood there, wrapped in her vest and mask, watching Charles approach.
“Your Grace,” called the footman. “Mr. Charles Bray is here.”
The rest of the group turned, welcoming him with greetings and smiles. Rosalie got to her feet, wincing with one hand braced on the side of her stomach. “Good morning, Mr. Bray.”
“Join us, Bray,” called the duke, stepping forward. “We’re just watching Madeline demolish Burke in a round of fencing.”
“I—” Charles glanced from Madeline back to the duke and her heart skipped a beat. He wanted to talk to her, she was sure of it. He wanted to get her alone.
Oh god, he’s finally going to give me his answer!
“Yes, alright,” he said, moving away from her towards the duke, who offered out his hand.
Madeline stepped forward, her foil lowering to her side. She caught Rosalie’s eye. The duchess wore a worried expression. Suddenly, she gripped her side, wincing.
“Ahh,” she hissed. “I—something’s wrong—”
Burke laughed, tugging his mask up to uncover his face. “Seriously? Not this ploy again. Charles isn’t here to speak to James or to watch us fence. He’s here to finally give Madeline an answer, thank all the gods. Let us not pretend otherwise and let us not keep her waiting in suspense.”
James groaned, giving Charles an apologetic look.
But Madeline had eyes only for Rosalie. “Are you well?” She tipped her mask back, reaching for Rosalie with her free hand.
Rosalie groaned, both hands now holding her stomach. “Mmmph…no. I think…I need to lie down. I—oh no—” She stepped back, her gaze darting down to the little puddle at her feet.
“Oh my goodness,” Madeline murmured, her foil clattering to the floor as she hurried to Rosalie’s side.
“What is it?” said James, noticing Rosalie’s odd behavior.
Rosalie panted, her gaze darting from Madeline to her husband. “I believe I am having your baby,” she replied, both hands on her stomach. “Now.”
