Regency Masquerade Read Free Page A

height and weight and their eyes met
across the blades raised in salute.  Mancini went through a similar set of
preparatory exercises as he had with Carleton and Frances followed his lead
carefully, conserving her strength.
    “Right,
let’s see what you can show me,” invited the Italian, breaking off
momentarily.  Frances nodded and let him take the lead again, content to defend
herself and bide her time.  After a few minutes she detected a slight
restlessness in her opponent and a moment later she recognised the opening move
of his “kiss of death”.  She met him blow for blow, then, as he made the final
thrust, she twisted her own blade up in a curious motion that sent Mancini’s
sword flashing up past her shoulder, and landed the button of her own foil at
the base of his throat.
    “Magnifico!”
breathed the astounded teacher. “How did ...?  No keep on ... later.”  The bout
continued but the Italian was now on his guard.  Frances had used most of her
strength and concentration on achieving her initial success and struggled to
hold her own.  Mancini soon had his blade against her heart and she surrendered
breathless but smiling.
    “I
must crave your pardon Maestro and stop there.”  He looked rather incredulous
and she trotted out the explanation she had used in the past.  “As you can see,
I have some skills but alas not the strength to follow them up.  I had the
wasting sickness when I was a lad and my limbs have never gained full
strength.”
    “What
a shame young sir!” he exclaimed in dismay. “With more practice, you might have
become a master – Ricardo taught you that trick?”  Frances nodded.  Mancini
continued to shake his head regretfully.
    “Perhaps
you’d have a turn with me sometime Francis?” enquired Carleton from the wall
where he had been watching curiously.
    “If
you like... but I’d be no match for you my Lord, your arm is too strong,” she
replied casually.
    “I
must say you’re cool enough about it,” he commented, his expression unreadable.
    “I
have no choice sir!  However it doesn’t affect my shooting.  I’ll wager I could
meet you equally enough with pistols!”  Thinking he was taunting her, Frances
answered rather hotly.
    “Steady
on young Francis, I meant no offense,” Carleton laughed.  “Though it would give
me great pleasure to engage in a friendly shooting match with you – I have
already had some evidence of your skill with firearms remember?”
    Frances
looked searchingly at him but could see no trace of mockery.  “I’m sorry my
Lord,” she apologised gruffly.  She turned to Mancini. “I must thank you very
much for your time maestro and bid you good day.  I have an appointment in an
hour and must get home to change now,” she spoke in Italian.  He returned her
bow and shook Carleton’s hand.  “Next week as usual?” he queried and the other
man nodded. 
    Once
outside, Frances turned to Carleton.  “I must be away my Lord.  Thank you for
bringing me this morning, I have not fenced for some time and it was good to
feel a sword in my hand again.”
    “I
enjoyed watching you,” he confessed.  “You have a brilliant style for one so
young.”
    “I
had the best teacher in Maestro Ricardo,” excused Frances, “and I started
early.  One does in Italy.”
    They
walked in silence for a few yards, then Carleton spoke.  “Would you care to
meet me in Manton’s Gallery for some shooting one day?  We could have a wager
as you suggested, a small wager, perhaps, between friends?”
    Frances
flushed, “I did not mean that.”
    “What,
backing down?”
    She
glanced up and saw he was teasing.  “I would not wish to rob you my Lord,” she
answered demurely.
    Carleton
laughed, “Friday then? Are you free?”
    Frances
considered.  That would be the day after Lady Dalrymple’s masked ball.  She
nodded. “I shall see you there at ... what time?”
    “Two?” 
She agreed and they parted company.  Of course she