Mantis ought to have known his friend took their practice as seriously as he did. Students of Jiu-Jitsu, an ancient Samurai form of fighting, not only benefitted physically but mentally as well.
He nodded and inhaled, drawing on the mental focus he needed to best the other man. Because, in truth, overcoming one’s opponent had more to do with achieving heightened awareness than it had to do with size or strength. The idea was to turn an enemy's energy against himself.
And when one lost, he could still win if he could learn the cause of his defeat.
By the end of this last bout, it was Blackheart who lay winded on the mat.
Drawing in a deep breath, Mantis stood up and paced to the edge of the mat and then back. He’d nearly lost a fourth match but managed to subdue Blackheart in the end.
Mantis was distracted, and he hated that he’d lacked focus for much of this session.
He offered a hand and assisted the duke to his feet. Blackheart eyed him suspiciously.
“What’s eating you?”
What was eating him?
“Lady Felicity Brightley.” Her name escaped before he could stop it. But Mantis knew that anything he told his ducal friend would be kept in confidence.
“Ah.” Blackheart tossed him a clean towel, keeping one for himself and dabbing at the sweat just inside the collar of his gi.
“I need her to marry me.” Mantis scrubbed his hand through his hair. It sounded even more ridiculous when he said it out loud. Blackheart merely waited.
“She refuses to even meet with me.”
“A conundrum, indeed.” At least Blackheart wasn’t laughing.
“I stood her up after reserving the last waltz on her card.” He wouldn’t disclose that they hadn’t intended to dance. “At Willoughby’s”
“Thanks to Chaswick.”
“Yes. And now…” Mantis frowned at the successive rebuttals he’d met with.
Brightley’s butler hadn’t even pretended to inquire as to whether or not she wished to meet with him. He’d simply stared down his nose and announced that Lady Felicity was indisposed.
“And you must marry her because…?” Blackheart inquired in a soft voice.
“Because.” Mantis met the duke’s eyes, eyes such a dark blue they might as well be black. “Honor demands it.”
Blackheart lifted one lofty brow but then nodded slowly. Such reasoning was something all gentlemen understood.
“Have you tried sending flowers? A note of apology, perhaps?”
He had not. Such a pathetically simple idea, but Mantis had failed to think of it. “Damn my eyes, no.”
Blackheart chuckled as he draped the towel around his neck. “I wouldn’t put it off much longer.” The duke pivoted and strolled across the salon. Without so much as a backward glance, he added, “the servants will be awaiting my inspection. Give my best to Lady Felicity.” Of course, even as a butler, Blackheart would have matters well within his control.
Mantis didn’t bother answering but instead began mentally composing his note of apology. He wasn’t adept at penning romantic sentiments, but if it helped his endeavor for forgiveness, he would make an attempt.
And by the time he had located a flower cart, he’d decided on daisies and lavender instead of greenery. Daisy’s because the gold reminded him of her hair, and lavender because the scent evoked exquisitely pleasant memories. And in his note, he asked her to meet him at the park tomorrow afternoon, at a particularly picturesque bank along the water.
He only hoped she didn’t use the opportunity to return the favor of standing him up this time.
Even if he did deserve it.
“Flowers for you, my lady.”Felicity glanced up from reading in time to see Susan enter her bedchamber with a fragrant, if not unusual, bouquet. “I took the liberty of putting them in water.”
Rather than bother her recently sensitive constitution, the floral scents refreshed her. She took a moment to appreciate the colorful daisies before breaking the seal on the small envelope.
