figures while Thomas slept. She remembered the bruised line across his forearm on the evening he returned from Larchmere, and how his sleeve had been stiff with dried blood. Then she looked at the blunted foil on the velvet table and understood what she could do that she could not accomplish with another letter. She laid her reticule aside, stepped forward, and selected the weapon.
"My father taught me when to put a blade away," she said. "He also taught me the difference between retreating from a threat and advancing upon one." Sir Edmund laughed. "Do you propose to demonstrate?" Helena lowered the point of her foil. "Yes. I should like to show your lordship how that night was described to me, and ask Sir Edmund whether the description is correct." The men surrounding them grew very still. For a moment there was only the distant sound of music drifting from the lawn. Lord Larchmere studied Helena's face and then turned to the terrace. "Clear a space," he said.
At once several gentlemen protested. It was improper, they argued, for a lady to join such an exhibition. Someone suggested that Miss Vale was overcome by emotion. Another made a remark about the excessive imagination common to disappointed families. Lord Larchmere raised a hand, and the voices quieted. "The weapons are blunted. This is a demonstration, not a duel. If Miss Vale wishes to explain something, I will hear it." The distinction mattered to Helena, although she doubted the spectators understood why. She was not there to strike anyone. She was there to make a lie hold still long enough to be examined.
Lucian Bell offered to hold the opposing foil. He was twenty-seven now, with the easy smile of a man who had never had to wonder whether his words would be welcomed. But as he stepped onto the terrace he glanced toward Sir Edmund, who gave the smallest possible shake of his head. Helena noticed the gesture. She had been watching men's hands and faces all her life; she knew the difference between amusement and warning. "You need not indulge me, Mr. Bell," she said. "I am capable of explaining the positions without an opponent." Lucian drew a long breath. "It would be my pleasure." His voice suggested otherwise.
She asked him to stand near the stone balustrade, the position where her father had said the confrontation began. Then she counted the three measures aloud. At the first, Lucian took a step forward. At the second, she moved back, the hem of her lilac