A Porcelain Viscountess by Hazel Linwood

Chapter 10

This…is dangerous territory!

Phoebe snapped her gaze away from Hayward’s lips and looked up to his eyes. She had actually been thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. There was so much that was wrong in the moment. She was thinking of kissing a Duke! The very Duke that was hiding her from her husband and she was living with whilst she was pretending to be his cousin.

He seemed to be looking at her in exactly the same way, the curious idea of what it could be like, as his eyes dipped down to her lips.

I am imagining that.

“I…erm…” she pushed her chair back abruptly and stood to her feet. Hayward reared back in his seat, clearly startled by the movement. “I…I should retire.”

“Retire? For the evening?” he said, with a smirk playing upon his lips. She turned away and stumbled out from the chair, determined not to look too long at that smirk.

“Y-yes,” she said hurriedly. “I think it for the best.”

“Any particular reason?” The flirtation in his voice made her snap her head back round to him as she backed up.

“No,” she said, shaking her head, hoping she could perpetuate the illusion that what had occurred had not just really happened. “I am just tired – ooh!” She collided with another chair as she attempted to round the table. She managed to set it in place before she hurried off toward the door.

“My Lady, you do not need to run,” he said kindly, calling after her.

“Run? I am not running. I am…” she paused in the doorway.

“Merely tired and heading to bed?” he offered the end of her sentence to her.

“Yes, exactly,” she said and nodded her head. “Good night, Your Grace,” she said and bobbed a curtsy to him. With the door closed, she leaned her forehead on it, tapping her forehead in reprimand there for a minute before she hurried off, running toward the staircase.

What just happened?

* * *

“So…you are not avoiding him?” Louisa asked.

“No, I am just…” Phoebe paused as the two of them came to a stop on the estate. They had reached a point in the garden where all around them was formal borders, with roses on one side, in alternate patterns of white and red, whilst on the other, foxgloves stood tall and towering, coming up to her head height or even higher. “Distracting myself,” Phoebe said at last with a sigh as she busied herself with admiring the roses.

“Rather sounds like you are avoiding your host to me,” Louisa said, earning a glare from Phoebe that she laughed at.

Phoebe was reluctant to admit it was the truth. It had now been two days since that dinner with Hayward where she had wondered what it could be like to kiss him. She couldn’t allow herself to do such a thing again. The couple of times she had seen Hayward at dinner, she had tried to be distant from him.

“Is there something wrong with Hayward?” Louisa asked as she followed Phoebe along the rose bushes.

“No, nothing,” Phoebe said softly.

“Nothing at all?” Louisa said.

“Oh, do not tease me!” Phoebe said, pulling another laugh from Louisa.

“I think it is best I do not spend as much time in his company as I did the first day,” Phoebe said with a whisper to Louisa as she looked around the bushes, wary of any gardeners or groundskeepers lurking nearby who might overhear them.

“Why not?” Louisa asked.

“Because it was…” Phoebe broke off abruptly, realizing just what she had been about to say. It was captivating! She had been utterly charmed by Hayward in just one day. Now, she had to spend a couple of weeks here at least. What would happen to her then if she continued to spend such time in Hayward’s company? She might be tempted to truly try one of those kisses she had pictured the other night. Such a thing could only risk her reputation!

“Oh my,” Louisa said, fanning her face for dramatic effect. “Do words fall short of how wonderful it was?”

“You are in a teasing mood today,” Phoebe said, walking along the rose bushes a little further. Since that first day, she had spent each day mostly in Louisa’s company, choosing to avoid Hayward as much as possible.

“Forgive me, I am just happy now we are here. I find happiness suits me. It makes me more carefree about the world, and really quite playful,” Louisa said with a smile that pulled another one from Phoebe.

“Then that delights me,” she said softly. “After the past you and I have had,” she paused and looked up the sky, “I think we both deserve a little happiness.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Louisa said, “so why aren’t you smiling the way I am?”

“Well, why are you smiling?” Phoebe asked.

“Because I am free!” Louisa said. She backed up a little and spun round in the garden, with her arms wide. “Look at me,” she giggled. “I am far away from the control of that man’s hands. The only person who can decide anything for me, is myself.”

Phoebe knew neither of them needed to mention the man’s name. When Louisa had left her father’s house to go into service, she had ended up at a low gentry’s house as a maid, where the youngest master had taken what was a liking to her. Only…his liking had not been reciprocated. Even worse, the lack of reciprocation had made the master both domineering and harmful.

He was a long distance away from Louisa now.

“This is what you need, my Lady,” Louisa said, stopping spinning as she turned back to Phoebe. “You need to feel this free, then you will be truly happy.”

“Maybe that will come with a formal separation,” Phoebe said though she wrung her hands nervously together.

“Then hold onto that idea!”

“It is a long way off yet,” she said cautiously, remembering the threat that Graham had levelled at Lady Dodge. “I’ll hope for it, but I cannot count my chickens before they’ve hatched, as they say.”

“As you wish, my Lady.” As Louisa walked back toward her and linked their arms together, Phoebe couldn’t help wondering if there was something in her words that had saddened her friend.

The two of them walked together into the house, when Louisa hurried off to attend to some of her duties, leaving Phoebe alone to wander the house. She was heading toward the library, when in the hallway she heard the sounds of metal upon metal, clattering together.

She came to a sudden stop, fearing the loud noise and what it could mean. The noise was then followed by a growl of pain.

That was Hayward’s voice!

Phoebe didn’t think too much about her actions. She ignored all her previous pleas to stay away from the man and hurried toward the noise that was coming from a door up ahead. She ran toward it and pushed it open sharply, feeling blinded by the sunlight for a moment before her eyes adjusted.

She was in some kind of sporting room in the house, with floor to ceiling windows arched at the top and latticed at the bottom, that flooded the white floorboards with light. Squinting against the glare, she finally made out the source of all the clatter and grumbles of pain.

Hayward was fencing with an opponent. Both of them were wearing helmets and black netting masks that went over their heads, whilst their torsos had some padded protection, though they wore their normal trousers below.

“Ha!” Hayward declared as he struck out with the foil in his hands and managed to strike his opponent. Phoebe winced at the sight before she realized that the weapon was blunted and caused no harm at all. “I had my payback, at last,” he said with a chuckle as he stepped away.

“That you did, Your Grace,” the other man said as he moved back and removed the helmet. The lowering of the mask revealed the face of the steward whose dark eyes looked toward Phoebe and spotted her first.

“Ah, Lady Isabella,” he said, bowing deeply. Phoebe did not miss the way Hayward snapped his head toward her. He removed the helmet, revealing his full face. “I hope we weren’t destroying the peace too much.”

“Well, perhaps a little,” she said, prompting a laugh from him.

“If you would excuse me, I best get back to work. Next time, yYour Grace, I hope to win,” the steward said as he returned his foil to some racking at the far side of the room and hurried out.

Phoebe turned her eyes back to Hayward to see he was still looking at her. Seeing him with his black hair all mussed from the fight, Phoebe felt a lurch in her chest, it prompted her to take a step toward him across the space.

“For a horrid minute, I thought someone was truly in danger in here,” she said, moving toward him.

“No fear of that, remember?” he said with a smile before he turned and practiced a few positions. He took some lunges with the sword raised and Phoebe watched on. The more she watched, the more her eyes danced along his figure, admiring the athleticism as well as the skill. When he turned back to face her, she had to snap her gaze back up to his face, pretending that she had not been admiring him so. “Besides, I’m quite good with this thing,” he said, holding up the foil.

“Quite good?” she asked. “Does that mean average? Or the best you know?”

“Oh, not the best I know,” he said with a shake of his head. “The best I knew was a Frenchman, Parisian. He could move a sword so fast I swear it blurred before my eyes.”

“You have been to Paris?” Phoebe asked, hanging on his words as she took another step toward him.

“I have,” he acknowledged, pausing with his practicing as he played with the sword in the air for a minute. “My Parisian friend taught me well though. I am not the finest fighter I have ever met, but I hold my own against a few friends of mine.”

“Modest indeed,” Phoebe teased him.

“Modest or honest?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On your skill,” she pointed out, earning another hearty laugh from him.

“Yes, I suppose so. In my opinion, everyone should learn to fight in this way.”

“Everyone?” Phoebe asked as she walked toward him. He proffered the sword toward her, encouraging her to take a look. She slowly took it from his fingers, trying to ignore the sensation created in her body when her fingers brushed his.

She held up the sword, watching as the sunrays through the window glinted across the side. Even for such a light-looking sword, it was surprisingly heavy in her grasp.

“It’s a sad fact of this world that not everyone is nice,” Hayward said, turning away as he placed his helmet in the rack nearby. “As much fun as Paris was, there were a few thieves in Montmartre that were after the money in my wallet.”

“Did they get it?” Phoebe asked, looking away from the sword and up to Hayward.

“Now, do you really need to ask me that?” he said, looking back to her with raised eyebrows.

“Proud indeed!” she accused him, watching as he smiled again.

“Maybe a little too proud at times, I’ll give you that,” he acknowledged with a nod. “What do you say?” he said, pointing at the sword.

“Say to what?” she asked, as she passed it between her hands. She could see how such a thing could give a man some power. Despite its slim shape, in the right situation, it could be the protection needed to survive.

“You could learn to use the weapon if you like?” Hayward’s words startled her so much that she fumbled with the sword and clattered it to the ground, jumping away from it, before looking up at him from the sword with a pretend look of innocence. “Lesson number one would be to not do that.”

“Me? Learn to fight?” she asked as she reached down to the floor and picked up the sword again. “I couldn’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“My husband would never allow it.”

“Have you not noticed yet that your husband is not here under this roof controlling you?” Hayward asked, looking around the room as though searching for him. “I would be very surprised to find him hiding here in one of my cupboards.”

She fought the smile his jesting tempted to pull from her.

“I…I have never even considered learning something like this,” she said, proffering the weapon back to him. “No, I couldn’t do it.”

“Why not?” he asked, taking the weapon back.

“Because…” she trailed off, thinking of the last time she had discussed such a thing. It had been years ago, long before she had married Graham. It was when she had still been in her father’s household under his direction.

“Why would a woman need to fight?” That was what her father had said one day when she expressed interest in learning something like sword skills. “It might give them ideas above their station.”

“My father would never allow it either,” she said eventually, not lifting her gaze to Hayward’s again.

“How strange, because I don’t see him under this roof either controlling you.” Hayward’s words made her frown, just before he took two steps toward her, closing the distance between them and forcing her to look up to him. “The only one whose opinion on this that matters right now, is yours. Would you like to learn a few skills, my Lady?”

She chewed her lip in thought and looked down at the sword in his hand another time. It struck her that if she knew some skills, just a few things, perhaps she would be better at fighting off such an attack again from Graham in the future, if she had to go back to him.

Slowly, she lifted her hand and took the foil out of his grasp.

“Shall I take that as your answer?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said slowly.

“Excellent.” He smiled and stepped away, retrieving some padding and a helmet from the side of the room. “First, protection!”

A few minutes later, Phoebe was threaded into some padding placed over her dress and a helmet that was so cloying with heat she was certain her hair was sticking to her neck in damp tendrils. The mesh mask across her face made it more than a little difficult to see.

“How on earth are you supposed to fight like this?” she said with animation, trying to brush off the feeling of what is had been like to have Hayward tie up the padding around her back. It had brought the two of them close together indeed. So close that his breath tickled her ear and made he smile in a ridiculous way. “I can barely see what I am doing, let alone what you are doing.”

“It gets easier once you let your eyes adjust,” Hayward said, coming to stand in front of her. “Now, first, we’ll take a few positions, some different stances, then we will go through a practice parry.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means we’re going to fight.”

“Fight?” she asked, nearly dropping the sword for a second time. “Ow!” she said as she caught the sword across the blade.

“Lesson number two, if you drop the foil, don’t grab it be the blade. If this one wasn’t so blunted, that might have truly hurt,” he said as he moved the sword in her grasp.

“Stop teasing me.”

“Then do not grab the sword by the blade again.”

She could just about see his smile through the mesh material over her face.

“Now, copy me exactly,” he said, holding up a finger as he backed away from her.

“How can I if I can barely see you?” she asked, swiping her other hand in the air to make her point.

“Squint a little, you’ll get used to it. Now, position one is this, a forward lunge…”

For the next few minutes, Hayward went into teaching her many different stances. Phoebe felt somewhat ridiculous at first, learning such things when wearing a gown, but after a minute, she began to see the use in practicing such a thing. As she got better and better at each position, with Hayward giving her less and less amendments, she felt more powerful. It was as though the blunted weapon in her hand really was the thing that kept her safe in the world. She loved the feeling.

This…this is what feeling safe feels like.

“Now, a practice parry,” Hayward said as he went to pick up a sword from the rack. Phoebe backed up a little, her eyes now having adjusted to the mesh, she could see Hayward advancing toward her.

“Yes, I can see why this would be particularly frightening in a fight.”

“You know I would never harm you.” His voice was sincere as he stopped walking. The deepness of the tone made her blush, and she was secretly thankful for the mesh over her face. “It will be a very slow parry. I’ll shout out stances for you to take and will show you how they respond to stances I would take. Ready?”

“Ready,” she said with a firm nod.

“Lunge one…” they went into a few different lunges, parrying very slowly back and forth so that the swords barely tapped one another every now and then, until Hayward spun away. “There, excellent – wait…”

Phoebe heard the ripping sound of the dress before she felt it.