Page 11 of A Star is Scorned

Flynn was still sulking and Olivia was cooing over Rallo when fencing master and top swordsman Fred Cavens walked onto set. Flynn quickly forgot the monkey’s easy betrayal, energized by the idea of getting a blade back in his hand.

“Freddie!” he bellowed, leaping to his feet in excitement.

Fred laughed, clearly delighted to see his old friend. He ran toward him, slapping Flynn on the back. “Banks, you old bastard, how’s it going?”

“Careful, Freddie, there are delicate ladies here today,” Flynn hissed in an exaggerated stage whisper, making sure Olivia overheard. She looked flustered and Flynn couldn’t help but grin. Finally she was the one on the back foot.

Rallo lifted his hands to his mouth and covered it, seemingly understanding something naughty had been said, which made Olivia laugh. Damn this monkey. He really was an easy mark for a pretty girl.

Cheered by Rallo’s antics, Olivia smiled in Fred’s direction. “That’s all right. You couldn’t possibly shock me more than Mr. Banks already has. Mister…?”

“Cavens. Fred Cavens. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss De Lesseps. I’m the fencing master and choreographer for Evets’s Studios. I’m here to get a feel for how well you handle a blade and to start teaching the moves for your and Banks’s big fight.”

“Fred taught me everything I know. About fencing, that is.” Flynn winked at Olivia, who seemed distinctly unimpressed by him.

“Nonsense, Flynn’s a natural,” added Fred good-naturedly.

Fred was being kind. Flynn had taken fencing as a boy in London.

One could hardly be the second son of a viscount and not learn the finer points of swordsmanship.

Having been born into the British aristocracy, there were certain things that were expected of him: learning horsemanship before he could walk, attending Oxford or Cambridge, and becoming an at least passable swordsman.

But Flynn had never been terribly interested in fencing, and all of his instructors had been old and boring.

His rotating cycle of governesses had been far more interesting…

and instructive. When Harry Evets had asked if he could fence before casting Flynn in his first picture, Flynn had said yes.

Because technically he could. Just not very well. Until he met Fred Cavens.

Cavens had been a fencing master in the Belgian Army before he emigrated to America. He could’ve opened a fencing school, but instead, he used his talents to teach Hollywood’s biggest stars how to believably duel on camera. He made Flynn a far better swordsman and enabled him to do his own stunts.

“Have you ever taken up a sword, Miss De Lesseps?” Cavens asked.

Olivia gave him a close-mouthed smile. “A few times.” Rallo had moved from his place in her arms back to her shoulder.

Flynn was surprised. He couldn’t imagine her setting aside her books to do something quite so athletic.

She was lean and lithe, but from what he could tell, Olivia Blount was an insufferable know-it-all and a bluestocking.

Not exactly who he’d peg as a swordswoman.

“Come, now, don’t lie to Fred. He’s here to help you get up to speed. ”

Olivia pointedly ignored Flynn’s comments and turned to face Fred. “Mr. Cavens, I’m eager to learn. As I said, I have some experience, but I’m certain you can teach me a lot.”

“Good, then, that’s what’s most important.

” Cavens had come in with an armful of weaponry, including a small sword and two flat-tipped épées, as well as an extremely tiny saber that didn’t even look big enough for a child.

He handed one of the épées to Flynn and gave the other to Olivia.

She fumbled, not wanting to displace Rallo.

Lionel stepped in, extending his arm. “Rallo, come.” Lionel made a series of clicking sounds that seemed to be some sort of command, and the monkey promptly hopped from Liv’s shoulder to Lionel’s forearm.

Cavens looked at the monkey. “Rallo, I didn’t forget you.

” The monkey clapped his hands together excitedly as Cavens held out the tiny sword, with the hilt facing the monkey.

Rallo looked back and forth between Lionel and the miniature saber, as if seeking approval.

Lionel nodded and Rallo grabbed the sword, wrapping his little hands around the hilt.

Flynn smiled. No matter how many times he’d seen it, watching Rallo with a sword was always a delight.

Olivia giggled, the sound he’d imagine bubbles in champagne would make if you could hear them.

Something unfurled in his chest. Her laugh was charming and girlish, disarming in a way he had yet to see any part of this woman be.

Everything about her was on high alert, her walls built as high as Big Ben.

But just now, a glimpse of the real Olivia had peeked through, a crack in her brick facade. He wanted it back.

Then Fred Cavens called his attention away from wondering how to make her laugh again.

“All right,” said the fencing master. “Now that everyone has their weapon, we’ll go through some basic positions—a thrust, a parry, a classical lunge. Then, if I’m satisfied with your form, we’ll work on some of the fight choreography.”

Flynn quickly stripped off the thick jumper he’d been wearing over his crisp, white polo shirt. He saw Olivia’s gaze dart to him as a small strip of his stomach was exposed, but then she merely rolled her eyes.

That crack in the wall was gone and had been hastily spackled up. Flynn held back a sigh. He didn’t take his sweater off for her benefit. He’d been chilly after his morning swim, but he always worked up a sweat fencing. He wanted the easiest range of motion with his épée.

He wafted the blade through the air, feeling it tug and follow the flick of his wrist as he gained a feel for its weight. Then he assumed a position with his legs in a lunge and his sword extended in front of him.

Rallo mimicked him, standing up on his long legs, curling his tail beneath him, and extending his miniature sword until it touched Flynn’s. “It seems he wishes to duel me for your attentions, Miss De Lesseps.”

“He needn’t fight you for them. He’s already won them heartily.”

“Ohhhh”—Flynn grabbed at his chest in mock pain—“you wound me.”

Olivia smirked as Rallo’s small head darted between them.

“Be that as it may, I request a fair fight.” Flynn held his blade to the monkey’s sword, and Rallo bared his teeth in response.

“En garde then, you little beast,” Flynn joked. He and the monkey matched blades, and then Flynn backed Rallo into a corner. The monkey scampered up the post he’d been sitting on and used his higher ground to fight Flynn off.

But it wasn’t enough. Flynn advanced on him, practicing a scene they’d cut from one of his earlier films. Rallo remembered it too, parrying in defense before surrendering by dropping his blade and covering his eyes with his hands.

“Oh, Flynn, don’t hurt him!” yelped Olivia.

The sudden outburst distracted him, and he looked back at her. Rallo used the pause to diverge from their choreography—jumping to the ground, retrieving his sword, and crawling up Flynn’s pant leg and across his chest until he held his tiny sword at Flynn’s throat.

“Get him, Rallo. Make him beg for mercy!”

“This is not what we practiced,” Flynn hissed at Rallo. The monkey shrugged, which made Flynn laugh and drop his blade, raising his hands in surrender. “All right, fine, you win. But don’t think I’ll forget this.”

Lionel whistled and the monkey returned to him, passing off his tiny sword to Fred Cavens on the way.

The fencing master resumed control of the proceedings. “Now that we know that Rallo hasn’t forgotten how to fence, Miss De Lesseps, can you assume a starting position? Do you need me to show you?”

“I can help if you need.” Flynn laughed. “I’m very good at every position.” He wanted to make her blush, to push through that wall again. Instead, she ignored him and assumed a classical lunge, looking absurdly cute in her gingham blouse and high-waisted shorts.

“Is that right?” She turned only her head to Cavens.

“Very good, very good. Your form is excellent. Now, we have two fights to teach you. The first is when Flynn’s character kidnaps you and you attempt to fight him off with a decorative blade hanging on your wall.

The other is when you team up alongside Flynn’s crew to fend off the attacking Spaniards at the film’s conclusion.

Flynn, if you’ll take your position, we’ll walk through some basics. ”

He did, raising his blade again and seductively running it down the edge of Olivia’s saber. She didn’t even flinch as the metal shrieked against metal. She held her ground, waiting for instruction from Fred. “What now, Mr. Cavens?”

“Yes, what now, Fred?” Flynn asked. “Does she need to adjust her footing? Maybe her posture?”

“No, she’s perfect. It’s you who seems off-kilter, Banks. Why are your shoulders so far back? And your feet are too close together. Good God, man, have I taught you nothing?”

Olivia simpered at him. “I’ll wait for Mr. Banks to adjust his position.” She held still and Flynn scowled at her as Fred nudged his instep with the tip of his foot, adjusting his legs slightly.

Flynn shifted his weight, trying to sink into the easy starting position Fred had taught him ages ago.

The pose should be instinctual by now, but damn, this woman threw him off-balance.

And thanks to Harry, he was supposed to pretend to be going steady with her?

The thought made him squirm. Thank God they didn’t have to begin this months-long publicity stunt until Harry worked out the details.

Cavens frowned and stood behind Flynn, placing his hand between his shoulder blades to get him to relax. “C’mon, Banks, you know better than this.”

He did, he really did.

At last, Fred seemed satisfied and took a step back. “All right, let’s exchange a few easy hits so I can get a sense for how you move on your feet.”