clumsily. In seconds, he had disarmed her of the rapier, tapping her wrist lightly with the flat of the blade after hooking her sword, showing how a slash there would have caused her to drop her weapon and sustain a wound at the same time.
She looked down at the floor, then picked up the rapier he had disarmed her of so easily. She stood silently for a moment, studying it.
'I have misjudged this weapon,' she said. 'That was unwise of me. Clearly, there is a skill to using it correctly. I will learn it.'
'Fencing isn't exactly something one picks up overnight,' said Hunter. 'You're not exactly a beginner, but-'
'No, I am far from a beginner. I have lived by the sword most of my life,' she said. 'This is a different blade, but it is still a sword. It will not take me long to learn. Teach me.'
'There's really not much point to it,' said Hunter.
'Why?'
'Because women in Paris don't carry rapiers,' he said. 'Sometimes they carry daggers, but mostly they carry fans and handkerchiefs.' He grinned.
'Truly potent weapons,' she said, sarcastically.
'It all depends on how you use them. Well, all right. I'll teach you. It may not take you very long to learn, at that. You're already a demon with a broadsword. You're strong and you've got terrific reflexes. You just lack the correct technique. I think it will probably be tougher to teach you how to use a fan.'
'I see. You imply that you are qualified to teach me how to be a woman, is that it?' she said.
'Not me,' said Hunter. 'You're already more woman than any man I know can handle. The trick is not to let men know that. That shouldn't be too hard. Most of us aren't very smart when it comes to women.'
'And you are one of the smart ones, I suppose.'
'No, unfortunately, I'm one of the stupid ones,' said Hunter. 'But I've learned a lot because of that.'
'Very well,' said Andre. 'I owe you much. I will learn to act the part of a fine lady if you think it will prove helpful.'
'Just call me Professor Higgins.'
'Who is Professor Higgins?'
'He was another stupid man,' said Hunter. 'But never mind. For a start, let's see what we can do about that walk of yours. You can dress the part of a woman, but you still swagger like a soldier. Now, take this book…'
3
Charlotte Backson, the Countess de la Fere, Milady de Winter, had seduced more men than she could count. She had never before met a man who could resist her. Now she had. The man called Taylor was totally immune.
'You can turn it off, Milady,' he had said, the first time she tried to work her charm on him. 'You've got nothing that I want.'
'Are you quite certain?' she had said, trying a different tack. She put just the right amount of throaty submissiveness into her voice. 'After all, I am your prisoner. Your men have taken me against my will. You've killed my coachman and my footmen, brought me here with my eyes blindfolded, there must be something that you wanted from me. I assume it's ransom that you're after. Rest assured, you will be paid. But I do fear for my own safety. I am entirely in your power. I would do anything if it would insure my survival through this ordeal.' She paused for just a second, her gaze meeting his directly. 'Anything,' she said softly.
The man called Taylor had laughed. 'I'm afraid you're wasting your time, Milady. I'll be quite blunt. I'm not interested in women. You understand?'
'Oh. Yes, I'm afraid I do.'
'You see, someone who doesn't share my sexual preferences would doubtless be extremely susceptible to you, which is why I'll be the only one to come into contact with you during your stay with us.' Taylor had smiled. 'Your reputation precedes you, Milady. We're fully aware of the kind of person that you are.'
'I'm afraid you have the advantage of me, sir,' she had said, stiffening slightly. 'I do not know what you mean when you speak of my reputation. Doubtless, you have heard some malicious gossip from-'
'Don't be coy,' said Taylor. 'Here's what I mean.' He reached out quickly and ripped her dress away from her shoulder with a suddenness that caught her unprepared. Quickly, she clapped her hand to her shoulder.
'There's no use in hiding it,' said Taylor. 'If you ask me, it's your best feature. The brand of the harlot. The fleur-de-lis. I've known women like you all my life. You're a slut, my dear.'
'Who are you?' she said, angrily. 'What is it you want from me?'
'Why, just your companionship, Milady. Nothing more.'
'What is the ransom for my safe return? How much do you want to release me?'
Taylor raised his eyebrows. 'Why, we're not asking anything for you, Milady. All we want is the privilege of entertaining you for a short while. A week, perhaps, no more.'
'And then?'
'And then you won't be seeing us again,' said Taylor.
Now a week had passed. It had been a maddening week. Each day, the man called Taylor came to her. He brought her all her meals and he would stay a while to talk with her. They would talk about the most meaningless of things, the weather, what fashions were popular at court, what her favorite foods were, what she liked, what she disliked, whom she had had affairs with…
Taylor seemed to know almost as much about her as she knew herself. That frightened her. How could he know such intimate details of her private life? How could he know that she had once been a nun and that she had seduced a priest at the convent of the Benedictines of Templemar? How had he known about the fleur-de-lis, with which the executioner of Lille had branded her? Who was this man, who seemed to know her almost as well as she knew herself?
She could get nothing out of him. On several occasions, he had come with a slightly older man, another stranger to her. This man would gaze at her strangely, then approach her. He would study her intently. Sometimes, he would touch her face, running his hands along her jawbone, touching her nose, the corners of her eyes, her lips. Once, when he had done so, she had softly kissed his finger, licking it lightly with her tongue. His hands shook slightly after that.
'Think you can do it, Doctor?' Taylor had said at one such time.
'I–I can do it.'
'You'd damn well better be sure,' said Taylor.
'I won't let you down, Adrian.'
'It's not just me, Doc. You know what's riding on this.'
'Yes, I know,' said the one called Doc. 'I know only too well.' He had sounded frightened.
She had no idea what any of it meant. Sooner or later, she knew, they would have to make their purpose clear. She would bide her time and wait.
A week and two days had passed when she received yet another visitor. This one was a lady. The door to her room opened and the man called Doc entered, along with the lady and two other men. The lady hid her face behind a fan. Milady was certain that now she would find out the reason for her abduction, the purpose behind all this intrigue. She stood up, giving her jailors a haughty look.
'Well,' she said. 'It appears that at last I will-'
The words caught in her throat as the lady dropped her fan, revealing her face. It was the Countess's own face. Milady stared at her living reflection, struck speechless at the sight.
'You see,' said the woman, in Milady's own voice, 'I told you that we would only keep you for a week or so.'
Milady backed away from the woman who was her twin in every way. She had her face, she had her voice, she had her manner…
'Who- who are you?' she whispered.
