The gentle irony in his tone was not lost on Martin. He wheeled about, and said trenchantly: “If that is so, let me advise you to leave Marianne Bolderwood alone!”
Gervase said nothing, but kept his eyes on Martin’s face, their expression amused, yet watchful.
“I hope I make myself plain, brother!”
“Very plain.”
“You may think you can come into Lincolnshire, flaunting your title, and your damned dandy-airs, and amuse yourself by trifling with Miss Bolderwood, but I shall not permit it, and so I warn you!”
“Oh, tut-tut!” Gervase interrupted, laughing.
Martin took a hasty step towards him. “Understand, I’ll not have it!”
Gervase seemed to consider him for a moment. He still looked amused, and, instead of answering, he lifted the second foil from where he had laid it on the table, set both hilts across his forearm, and offered them to Martin.
Martin stared at him. “What’s this foolery?”
“Don’t you fence?”