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was told to return at eight in the morning – Teddy hired a hackney coach. “Angelo’s,” he instructed the driver as he tossed him a coin. Once at the fencing academy in Bond Street, Teddy disembarked from the coach and glanced around, hoping he wasn’t too late to secure a match with an old friend. “Have you seen George?” he asked of the attendant on duty. The man nodded in the direction of a piste on which two men were sparring. Nodding his acknowledgement, Teddy moved quickly to stand amongst the three other men watching the match.
    George Bennett-Jones, his rapier held nearly vertical as he regarded his shorter opponent, straightened his entire body and pulled his legs together. His opponent, a rather portly man who was sweating profusely, seemed confused by the move and let down his guard. With that mistake came George’s attack, and soon the man was stumbling backward as he was forced to parry and retreat from George’s swift advance. His retreat ended when he landed on his backside, cursing loudly enough for the entire audience to hear. A smattering of applause ensued as George offered his hand to his opponent and pulled him to his feet. After exchanging bows, George left the piste and headed toward the changing room.
    “George!” Teddy called out, his head lifting a bit as he nodded toward his friend.
    The taller man halted in mid-step and grinned when he caught sight of his friend. “They really do let in everybody,” George said with a teasing grin, indicating with a wave that Teddy should join him.
    “As I recall, they used to welcome me with open arms,” Teddy said with a wry grin, his left arm spreading wide. The empty sleeve of his right arm, folded and pinned against the side of his top coat, was made more apparent by the action.
    “That’s because you had two and the blunt to pay your dues,” George countered playfully. There was a time when George never would have been so callous in the comments he directed to his friend. Less than a week ago, in fact. But the few hours they had spent together since George’s return to London had shown Teddy Streater wanted things to be as much like the old times as was possible. And that meant a good deal of teasing and a few drinks at White’s.
    “I’ll be paying those dues at the end of the month,” Teddy said proudly.
    George paused before continuing into the changing room, his friend on his heels. “What’s that you say? Did you rob a bank?” he asked as he set down his rapier and stripped off his gloves.
    “Something like that,” Teddy countered, his lips curving.
    George stopped unbuttoning his uniform jacket to regard his friend, saw the hint of a smile, and continued changing into his suit of clothes. “Indeed?” was his only reply. Curiosity was apparent in his expression, though, but he waited for Teddy to explain himself rather than asking outright.
    “I got my old position back. At the bank,” Teddy explained, barely able to maintain his composure.
    George stared at his friend with a mixed look of surprise and horror. “I am happy for you, Teddy, of course, but ... at what cost?” Teddy Streater hadn’t had a pence to his name for months now. If it wasn’t for the kindness of his friends and a younger brother who gave him a pittance of an allowance and allowed him the use of a townhouse in Piccadilly, Teddy would have been living in the streets.
    Teddy shrugged. “Twenty guineas,” he said, his face sobering. At George’s stunned expression, he pulled out the pasteboard card the charity woman had given him. “I will pay it back eventually, of course,” he said as he held out the card, “But it was this lady who spoke with Mr. Whittaker at the bank. And she came up with the blunt. You’d like her,” he added with a glint in his eye. “Not your typical debutante.”
    Reaching for the calling card, George gave his friend a wary glance. “Debutante? Do you know her?” At Teddy’s quick shake of his head, he added,