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.
“It is excellent weather, isn't it?” he asked, smiling at her and feeling his scars pull at his skin.
“Hmm,” she said and it sounded like agreement, but still he felt shame course through him. How the deuce was he supposed to get her to fall in love with him over a park stroll?
I am hardly attempting that, he reminded himself. He didn't need her to feel anything for him; he needed her to think a life with him pleasant enough to accept and that had already been determined by his title and his wealth. Aspen suppressed a frustrated growl and moved to guide Miss Musgrave down one of the nicer park paths. She deserved better than that.
“It's gray, but in a pleasant manner,” he said, glancing to the side as they strolled beside the bare bundles of sticks and shrubs that would bloom into the park’s famous rose bushes. They would be gorgeous in the summer, he thought, wishing it were warmer. Perhaps it’d be easier to feel romantic then. Miss Musgrave stared back at him, her eyebrows raised, looking vaguely amused at his expense.
It’s gray, but in a pleasant manner, he repeated to himself, wishing he could sink into the ground. He’d been reduced to speaking drivel. Miss Musgrave angled her face away from him and smirked, as if they’d just showed their cards and she’d won. It was a rather disturbing feeling, he thought, though he wasn’t quite certain why.
Like I’d find nothing better, he decided, wishing he could remove his arm from hers. Unfortunately, that was a lady’s right. Miss Musgrave tightened her grip on his arm, as if sensing his discomfort.
“We should walk by the lake,” she ordered.
Aspen led her around a group of elderly pedestrians, wondering what he was expecting from marriage. He had money and little else to offer; Miss Musgrave apparently wanted little else. Surely that could be considered a fortunate match.
~~//~~
Jac dressed herself with shaking hands, barely able to contain her excitement. It was Thursday again and she was going to fence. Or at least pretend at it, she thought, laughing quietly to herself. Daniel had business in Whitechurch Street. A politician to harass for the abolitionist movement, no doubt, but he’d promise to get her set up in the fencing club before he left. Jac felt her heart thumping wonderfully beneath her corset. This time she thought it wise to wear her stays to keep her breasts from bouncing as she attempted to throw herself in and out of the dreadful lunges. She was getting better at this, she thought, laughing as she pinned the long gray wig over her hair.
“Jac! Are you yet ready?” Daniel hissed through her bedroom door. Jac grabbed her gentleman’s hat and stood, wanting to bounce in her shoes at their bravery.
“Mo
re than,” she answered happily, approaching the doorway.
~~//~~
Aspen walked into his regular fencing room to see Jack Holcombe already there, falling into a very lopsided lunge and barely pulling himself out of it. He was still fully dressed in his waistcoat, cravat, and wig. Aspen wouldn’t be surprised if the man still held his pocket watch, snuffbox and handkerchief on his person.
How very odd, Aspen thought, walking into the room, his shoe heels clicking sharply on the wood floor. The lad looked up and Aspen stripped off his waistcoat and tailcoat, preparing to join him. The boy blushed from his cheeks down into his cravat and stopped his exercises.
“You are terribly modest, are you not?” Aspen joked, walking over to hang up his waistcoat on the hooks by the blade rack. He glanced back to see the boy looking uncomfortable. Aspen looked down to inspect his shirt and breeches, not feeling particularly exposed. His scars, perhaps? “Come now, strip. Surely you have nothing to reveal that’s more jarring than my scars.”
The boy blinked rapidly, obviously shocked by his candor. Aspen opened his mouth to apologize when the boy’s gaze flicked down to his own en garde stance, apparently more interested in fencing than Aspen’s disfigurement. Aspen blinked, pleased, and watched as the boy made a very clumsy retreat. The boy recovered his balance and sighed, preparing to try again.
“Would you welcome instruction once more?” Aspen asked, taking off his hat and emptying his pockets on the side table waiting for them. He turned back in time to see Jack nod nervously.
“Please,” he said, his voice too high for a man but too steady for a boy.
“Excellent. Then take off your wig and waistcoat and empty your pockets,” he ordered. The boy’s eyes widened with what looked like horror. He stared at the side table as if it were covered with snakes.
Did he never go to a boarding school? Aspen wondered, frowning. The boy began to unpin his wig, his hands shaking visibly. He revealed a large mat of brown hair, pinned up out of the way in a woman’s fashion, neither cut short nor held back in a leather strap. A foreign style, perhaps? Aspen bit down on his tongue sharply, deciding not to comment, and crossed the room to stand in front of the boy. Apparently Jack Holcombe was keeping his waistcoat firmly in place for the training session.
“We'll start with basic footwork,” Aspen ordered. The lad grinned at him, his smile full and free, as if he'd never been shy at all.
He loves this, Aspen thought, pleased. He felt quite similarly. But unlike Aspen in his first fencing lesson, Jack didn't seem to find any reason to complain. Oddly enough, the heavier Jack's breath came, the more the lad grinned, until he was panting around the practice room and smiling like a madman.
Daniel walked in not ten minutes later. He took one look at his cousin, already working, and grabbed a blade from the rack. Aspen grinned, accepting the challenge and moved to grab his own weapon.
“Training my cousin again, then?” Daniel asked, checking the safety cloth wrapped over the tip of his blade.
“Someone had to,” Aspen replied. Daniel chuckled and set himself at the starting line painted onto the floor. Aspen copied him and they began.
“He’s picking it up quickly,” Daniel commented and glanced at Jack. Aspen used the distraction to his advantage. Daniel parried but only barely and his balance was still off so Aspen pressed forward, closing the space between them as he extended. He got in the hit and Daniel nodded to accept it, but glanced at Jack again as they backed up to restart.
“My word, he enjoys it though,” Daniel muttered, sounding almost disappointed as he watched the boy panting past them at the edge of the room.
“Keep your upper body as still as possible, Mr. Holcombe,” Aspen called out and the man blushed to his roots at the sound of his name.
They started the bout again.
“You like teaching,” Daniel commented.
Aspen nodded, trying not to get distracted as he kept his distance from the man. Daniel could lunge farther than anyone else he'd seen. Daniel changed his speed suddenly, closing fast and Aspen parried and moved, disengaging his blade where he thought Daniel would parry. He was right, and he touched his point carefully to the man's shoulder. Daniel glanced down at where Aspen had touched him and shrugged, unaffected as always.
“How are you so uncompetitive?” Aspen growled. Daniel shrugged idly, brushing off the spot where Aspen had hit him.
“Jack is the same way. I suppose we are just naturally unaffected,” he replied.
“How would you know if he's competitive?” Aspen asked, glanced over just as the lad managed to retreat himself into the back wall and stumble. The boy caught him watching and blushed down into his cravat again.
“He's the best chess player I've ever met,” Daniel replied, slapping his hand to his thigh to restart their bout. Aspen ignored him, staring at his awkward cousin. “Give him a few years and he'll be better at this than you, too.”
“In all honesty?” Aspen asked, intrigued. Jack set himself back up in his en garde position, lining himself up on the wooden floor. He started retreating down the fencing hall again, apparently unfazed.
“Wipes me off the board with rook-odds. I've never seen her- him, sorry – get competitive about it. It's why he's so good,” Daniel replied.
“I'll invite him to the Association, then. It meets next week at six o’clock for this year’s tournament. Do you know if he's otherwise engaged?” Aspen asked. Daniel shook his head and slapped his leg again to continue the bout and Aspen ignored Jack to concentrate on his fencing. They ended with Aspen two points ahead and stopped the bout to rest their legs.
“Mr. Holcombe!” Aspen called, turning to stride toward the lad. The boy stepped back, glancing at his feet as if to discover what he'd done wrong.“I’m told you enjoy chess. Would you like to join the London Association? We’re running a tournament Wednesday of next week at my home if you are amenable,” he said and the boy hesitated.
“I'd love to, Your Grace,” he replied finally. The boy glanced at Daniel, still looking concerned, and Aspen frowned. It was hardly a controversial offer. The London Association was a coveted chess group, but it was not exclusive to landed gentry. Suddenly, the boy’s expression changed, and Aspen found himself blinking at the utter excitement growing in the lad’s eyes. Aspen had a feeling Daniel had far overestimated the scrawny boy's skills. It looked like the lad had never joined anything like a chess club before.
“Thank you,” Jack professed, grinning wildly, though he still kept his gaze focused somewhere over Aspen’s shoulder, avoiding the scars.
“Let me teach you to lunge before I return to the bout,” Aspen suggested, to change the subject. Jack nodded and Aspen stepped into en garde position to show the lad what he was to attempt.
“I am going to extend my hand, lift my front leg only, and step forward. This does not have to be the longest step you can make. The object is only to extend your blade without subjecting yourself to attack. So, extend your arm first, that will help you determine how far to lunge and step out. Pull your upper body upright; you are not aiming for your opponent’s shoes and you’ll expose your back – Good! Now, do that until you hate me,” he ordered before striding back to Daniel.
He lost to Daniel twice and won a second bout before he realized how late in the afternoon he’d stayed. His steward was no doubt waiting for him.
“I shall see you at the political luncheon tomorrow, I trust?” Aspen asked and the man's eyes widened suddenly as if he'd utterly forgotten. He glanced at Mr. Jack Holcombe and Aspen understood. “I am sure the earl would not mind extending the invitation,” he added and Daniel nodded slowly.
“Yes, of course,” he answered, darting a glance at the young Mr. Holcombe again. Jack did not seem to notice at all, however. He was pulling himself out of another lunge, panting heavily. Aspen frowned and glanced at Daniel. The man smiled at him knowingly and shrugged, apparently accustomed to his cousin’s quiet focus.
/> The best chess player I’ve ever met, Aspen thought curiously, glancing at the lad one more time before he grabbed his effects and left the room.
~~//~~
She was invited to things as a man. Jac felt her heart sink as she considered it. She was surely the most awkward 'man' in the country, and she was still doing so much better. She’d been personally invited to the Duke of Aspen's chess tournament; she could scarcely believe it. She'd have killed for an invitation to watch, two weeks before.
Daniel was quiet in the coach ride home. It was only after they'd made it across the river that he finally looked away from the carriage window.
“We have accepted Countess Chesterton's invitation to the Shakespeare matinée on Wednesday,” he said. Jac felt her eyes widen. That started at four o’clock on Wednesday; there was no way she could be at the Aspen town house by six o’clock.
“She will not miss me,” Jac replied, though she knew the excuse was weak.
“And cancel to accept a preferred invitation?” Daniel pointed out. Jac winced.
She sank into her seat and let her head bump into the cold window pane. She would have to write the duke to cancel and apologize.
“Write him that you're going to be late,” Daniel ordered. Jac blinked, startled, and tilted her head at him in question. “I know what it is like to hide yourself. I don’t want you to miss any of this adventure. You only have the few weeks Lord Holcombe’s cousin can be believed to be in town without widespread introductions. We can be annoyingly punctual a different time,” he explained, shrugging.
Jac frowned, wondering what Daniel knew of secrecy and reservation. The man was one of the most coveted bachelors of his time and he knew it. Still, if it meant she could fence again? She’d take it.
“You've gone utterly mad,” she said, excitement starting to rise in her again. Daniel chuckled, his teeth flashing in the dark carriage.
“You're just realizing this now?” he asked.
“I want to go to the earl’s political soirée as a man,” Jac announced, doing her best to sound fearless. Daniel shook his head, looking baffled.
Spinster's Gambit Page 3
