Page 7 of Introducing Mr. Winterbourne
No sooner had Freeman murmured a polite sentiment in response than Arabella launched into an interrogation, asking him what he thought of London and its many sights and splendours.
For a while, Freeman tolerated her attentions, answering her tumbling questions politely, but eventually he grew bored. Lysander saw it by the faint frown that appeared between his dark brows and the increasingly curt answers he gave her. Plainly, he had no interest in this passably pretty and well-bred girl. No interest in being flattered and flirted with. When he next glanced at Lysander, the cold resentment of that tawny gaze was slightly softened by an unmistakable plea.
“Sorry to interrupt, Bella,” Lysander said, “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to steal Mr. Freeman away now. We have another appointment that we cannot be late for.”
Arabella eyed him in a calculating way. “Is that so?” she said. “And what appointment would that be, Mr. Winterbourne?”
“With my fencing master,” Lysander said promptly. “It’s time for my weekly lesson, and Mr. Freeman is keen to meet the great Monsieur Gris.”
Later, Lysander wondered where that egregious lie had come from, but for now, all that mattered was that Arabella’s suspicious look melted away, replaced by resignation. She bid the two men a civilised farewell, and they crossed the room to take their leave of Mrs. Dalton.
Chapter 4
“Do you really havean appointment with your fencing master?” Freeman asked once they were on the street outside. It was the most the man had unbent all day, and Lysander found himself smiling ruefully.
“No, but you obviously wanted to leave, and it was the only thing I could think of on the spur of the moment.”
Freeman gave a short laugh, but he looked disappointed. “Pity,” he said. “I’ve heard of Gris. Going to his academy would be infinitely preferable to making another call.”
“Well,” Lysander said, thinking on his feet, “there’s no reason we can’t drop by. Monsieur Gris may have lessons on, but we could watch. Maybe even have a bout if the place isn’t too busy. Do you fence?”
Freeman blinked, seeming surprised by Lysander’s offer. “Yes,” he said at last. “Yes, I fence. I haven’t for a while, but I’m a tolerable swordsman.”
Lysander grinned, pleased by the turn of events. “Well, good, then! Let’s go. It’s not far at all from here. A mile or so, if you don’t mind the walk?”
“I’d welcome it,” Freeman replied. “I feel like I’ve been cooped up in stuffy drawing rooms all day.”
“Excellent,” Lysander said. “Monsieur Gris’s rooms are just off Mayfair. It’s this way.” He turned on his heel and started walking, and Freeman followed, falling into step beside him.
“I appreciate this,” Freeman said after a brief silence. “It’s been a long day.”
“It’s the least I can do after subjecting to you to so many afternoon calls,” Lysander said, shrugging. Then he added lightly, “Though whether you’ll enjoy being soundly beaten remains to be seen.”
Freeman met his sideways look with a wry smile of his own. “You think you will soundly beat me, do you?”
“It’s been said that I’m not too shabby with a blade,” Lysander replied modestly.