He feinted suddenly inside the arm, deceiving the parade of tierce. His Grace fell back a pace, parrying in quarte , and as John with a quick twist changed to quarte also and the blades crossed, Tracy lunged forward the length of his arm, and a deep red splash stained the whiteness of my lord’s sleeve at the shoulder.

Diana gave a choked cry, knowing it to be the old wound, and the Duke’s blade came to rest upon the ground.

“You are⁠—satisfied?” he asked coolly, but panting a little.

My lord reeled slightly, controlled himself and brushed his left hand across his eyes.

“On guard!” was all he replied, ignoring a pleading murmur from the girl.

Tracy shrugged, meeting Carstares’ blade with his, and the fight went on.