En garde, Milady

This book is an adventure, Regency Romance that I'm planning to publish soon. Here's the beginning....
The Autumn of the year of our Lord, 1820
Staffordshire, Great Britain
Gabriella took the En garde position across from her practice partner. Legs spread apart with one in front of the other, knees bent, and her arm extended in front as if part of the sword she held. Her left arm was held close to her body, elbow bent, and hand extended palm down.
There were two things she focused on. The movement of his weapon and the tell in his eyes or face—a dead giveaway of attack. She had stood in front of the mirror for hours learning to keep her face as still as a mask.
Her wait wasn’t long. The instant her partner’s eyes took on a strong focus, he slashed wide looking for an opening to her body. Her rapier came up and knocked his blade aside. They separated.
Again, they readied position. She took small steps forward with her right foot while her sword jabbed towards him pushing him back. His blade met hers and cast it aside. But she circled in a wider ark, his sword moving with hers, when the opening came—she lunged. The point of her sword barely met his breast pad inches above his waist. Such a strike could have simply cut his shirt.
They stepped back and circled, then took position. His height gave him a longer reach and his strength was felt up her arm when they practiced with sabers. But she had speed. She aimed at his chest and they parried as they moved around the ballroom. She noticed his soaked hairline, but she was hot as well. The bright sunlight streamed through the tall wall of windows adding heat.
She continued to press him. Their feet danced as if in a reel speed building. His breathing became heavier, his sword sluggish. That was to her advantage. But then he backed her into the sunlight, ever turning her until she squinted. At that precise moment, the end of his foil came towards her neck. Her blade rose to meet it and blocked pushing it aside. She instantly stepped back with her left leg and whirled away.
Strategy was everything and she had anticipated his sneak attack.
Once again, they positioned their blades and circled. He knocked hers aside and lunged but she side-stepped bringing her blade down upon his. Perspiration rolled down her temple, yet went unnoticed as she once again stepped forward and then lunged. He moved back quickly then came after her his sword circling towards her chest. She shuffled her feet back out of striking distance as he continued forward. Her wrist moved the sword in smaller circles. Waiting. The moment he swung his sword out to slash, she lunged forward. The tip of the blade touched at his waist and bowed the shaft in an ark.
He dropped his rapier and stepped back bending over at the waist to brace his hands against his knees. A grin appeared on his face as he looked up at her. “Your aim would have killed me.”
She giggled as she pulled the faceguard off and shook her dark hair free. The length unwound falling across her shoulders and down her hips.
“An excellent bout, Sir Rosenthal. You almost had me that time.”
Gabriella knew her father, John Barrington, Baron of Staffordshire, would be pleased with her win. She stepped forward offering her hand.
He took her gloved fingers and bowed over them. “You flatter me. Your speed with the blade continues to increase. I fear you have surpassed your teacher and are in need of a fresh partner.” He followed her across the room to an elaborate cabinet used for fencing equipment.
“I enjoy our practice. Few can compete with you.” She opened the cabinet doors and slid her foil into a slot which held a variety of swords. “I believe you scored twice today.”
He stepped beside her and placed his foil inside. “Shall we work with your saber on the morrow? I have recently purchased one I would enjoy testing.”
Her eyes rose from unlacing her chest pad. “Certainly. I would enjoy it. You are the only partner I have that chances using sabers with me.”
“It’s understandable.” He pulled his padding over his head and hooked it onto a peg in the cabinet then reached out to take hers. “The bout could be dangerous with your speed. I will need to be in top form. This eve I will find my bed early.”
She wagged a finger at him. “I am not so clumsy. My brothers keep me in top form.” She slipped her gloves off and set them on a shelf.
“Where are they this morn? Have they grown bored with my skill?”
“Father called them into his study. Which reminds me, he will wish to speak with you before you leave. I would wager he wishes to hear of our bout.” Gabby walked with him towards the door.
He bent at the waist with a smile and a nod. “Till the morrow.” He went to leave the ballroom barely missing being hit by the young boys who raced inside.
They froze after one frown from their sister. The eldest pushed his brother down by his shoulder to bow while he murmured, “Sorry, Sir Knight.”
He gave a slight nod and continued on his way with a smile the boys failed to see.
“We want to practice now,” Philip told her.
Derrick ignored his younger brother and asked, “Who won the exercise?”
“Does that matter? My speed continues to increase. If you wish to practice your skills and learn more, shall we first change clothes?” She waited for their answers but instead watched as they dashed from the room to prepare.
Long ago she learned how to gain cooperation from her brothers and maintain their interest. Males had little endurance for boredom, but so did she. Competition stirred the blood and sharpened skill as well as confidence when performed well.
To train her brothers in the technique of sword fighting, they dressed in costume to create the illusion of fun when in fact she drilled them in form, technique, and mental concentration. They found the idea of being pirates the most fun. The challenge was besting her.
She went to her room and changed into her own costume. On the way back to the ballroom, she saw the butler approaching. His countenance didn’t bode well. Nor did the fact that her time with her brothers was seldom interrupted.
“Will they believe you if I’m not found?” she asked him.
“I’m sorry, Mistress. Your parents await you in your father’s study.”
She looked down at her clothing. Her white shirt belonged to her father and the pantaloons to her thirteen-year-old brother. The black sash she had borrowed from a maid was wrapped around her waist to keep the pants from falling down since he was tall like their father. With a strong imagination, she almost looked like a pirate—all except for the pink ballroom slippers she loathed. They were chosen for the constant source of hilarity such silliness gave her brothers.
“Do I have time to change, Finley?”
His eyes sparkled at the question. “I fear it is far too late for that, Mistress.”
“Hilarious, Finley. You know I was speaking of my clothing.”
“Yes, I did assume as much. Your father is quite fond of you. I doubt he will wish you to change.”
“Father is not the one I am concerned with.” She knew the reaction she would receive from her mother. A lady did not wear her brother’s cast-offs. When fencing, she was to wear the clothing provided for such an activity.
“Do you happen to know what this is about? Another season in London is upon us. I fear she has gone to Papa to plead that I be presented into society this year.”
He snickered which seldom happened. “Your father will protect you, Mistress.”
Her dark brown eyes rolled at the idea. Everyone in the household knew her ability with a sword was not her only talent of defense.

**There is more to this chapter, so if this much is read, I'll post more.