She took several deep, calming breaths before risking a glance at the captain. When she finally had the courage to face him again, he gave her a slow wink probably calculated to escape the attentions of the other guests. After several pointed looks down toward his hands, she leaned forward and accepted a crisp vellum envelope he extended toward her beneath the table.
After covert looks to each side, she hazarded a peek inside. Her lost poem on crumpled, dirty vellum, slipped out, complete with the missing lines. A bit tattered and muddy from lying in the street in front of the milliner’s shop, but still intact. She wanted to cry but instead managed a shaky smile in his direction.
A quick fluttering in the vicinity of her heart stopped like a cog dropping into place. Captain Bellingham was a man who would take care of her without considering whether she wanted to be taken care of or not. She couldn’t decide how she felt about his attentions. Uncomfortable, definitely. Dangerous to get too used to unwarranted comfort.
When the final pyramid of rainbow-colored ices arrived, Sophie could not believe she’d survived the evening, and then Lydia leaned toward Captain Bellingham and in a loud whisper, shared, “Sophie is most wonderful at cards. Perhaps the four of us could share a game of whist.” She sat back with the smile of a cream-sated cat until her grandmother shot her a look of censure. “Of course, not until you and the other men have enjoyed your cigars and brandy,” she added in haste.
“We appreciate the offer,” Arnaud said, “but we wouldn’t want to stay overlong and impose on Lady Howick’s hospitality.”
“Nonsense,” Dr. MacCloud interjected. “I love a good game of whist.” He gave Captain Bellingham a hearty clap on the back. “We should not deny ourselves the pleasure of Lady Lydia and Miss Brancelli’s talents.”
If not for insulting Lady Howick, Sophie would have laid her head on the table and sobbed. The humiliating ordeal was not over.
Many cups of tea later, Sophie and Lydia gave their excuses and walked down the first floor’s long hall to the small game room.
Arnaud and Cullen made their way to the game room, accompanied by a footman. The floor was covered entirely with marble blocks, inlaid to resemble a chessboard. All the furnishings in the snug room were of red or black polished woods, mirroring the look of a chess board.
From the look on Miss Brancelli’s face, Arnaud strongly suspected she would prefer to be anywhere else than spend one minute more in his presence.
When Lady Lydia produced a stack of old, weathered cards the effect on Miss Brancelli was immediate. Her eyes widened and anger fired the light hazel into a deep, luminous brown. She reluctantly accepted the ancient cards with Italian notations.Gypsy cards.Although reading such cards was something the hautetonprobably considered “cheap” and “vulgar,” he didn’t care.
After the initial shock left her face, Miss Brancelli stared up at him, resignation throbbing from her body. Thank Her friend, still chattering, seemed hell-bent on plying her quirky charm on Cullen.
Thoughts of the convenient widow he planned to marry drifted to the back of his mind. The brandy Lord Howick provided after dinner probably had contributed to his warming toward Miss Brancelli.
Sophie sat across from Lydia at a round table of dark mahogany, shuffling the old cards. She pointed toward the remaining chairs around the table. “Please sit.”
A strange frisson coursed through Arnaud. He who had faced many a cutlass-wielding pirate and slave runner trying to board his ship. He who had survived countless storms at sea. He was unnerved by Miss Brancelli and the strange cards.
But, in a change of heart that caught him unaware, he realized he’d do anything, risk everything, to spend a few extra moments with this woman.
Chapter Five
Sophie ponderedthe first card she turned over in the arc of cards she'd drawn after Captain Bellingham shuffled the deck. The gaudy painted Empress stared up, taunting her. When she lifted her gaze to him for a moment, she forgot what she was about to say.
Arnaud smiled. “Is it that bad? I can take whatever the cards throw my way. Trust me." His clear blue eyes twinkled with humor that seemed second nature to the man. When heat rose from her neck to her cheeks, she swept a quick glance around the table to make sure no one else had noticed the embarrassing exchange.
Doctor MacCloud was engaged in conversation, his head close to Lydia. Her friend stared past his shoulder, grinning and waggling her eyebrows. Sophie would make Lydia pay later. Something painful.
Her friend had stolen into her bed chamber and snatched the cards Sophie kept hidden away in a cloth bag. They were very old, handed down in her father’s Venetian family from long ago. Somehow, the cards seemed to “speak” to Sophie whenever she handled them, or did occasional spreads for Lydia or herself. She could not believe Lydia would expose both them, Dr. MacCloud, and Captain Bellingham to most certain ridicule and censure if anyone suspected what they were up to.
Sophie adjusted her shawl tight around her shoulders. “There’s nothing to worry about, Captain Bellingham," she said. "The cards merely pick up something from your life, and it's up to me to intuit what they might mean."
"Then please proceed. I am in thrall. And please, my friends call me Arnaud.” When she responded with a wrinkled nose and pained look, he raised his hands in surrender. “Of course not. You don’t know me that well. You can call me anything but a senseless boor, at least not to my face.”
His open manner was contagious, and Sophie laughed along with him, then sobered when she proceeded with the reading.
"There is a woman," Sophie began cautiously, "a powerful, older woman in your life, who could have a great influence on your future." She bent her head to turn the next card, and the Queen of Cups appeared. "She has a great deal of money, and will add to your wealth," Sophie continued. This time when she glanced up, the captain's teasing smile was gone.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "I've upset you." She turned an angry look on Lydia. "I never should have agreed to this silliness." Sophie moved to sweep the cards from the table, but a strong, sun-weathered hand covered hers, stopping her.
"Please, go on. I want to know. Truly.” His smile reappeared. "Let's hear the rest."
Until that moment, Sophie had no idea how much she craved his smile. So what if she was thwarted at every turn in her efforts at respectability? She could deny him nothing. This man could be dangerous. Dangerous did not begin to describe how caring for him could destroy all her plans and hopes.
Her hand trembled when she tried to pluck the next card from the deck, and the ornately painted piece fluttered out of her hand to land facedown.
Arnaud reached across the table and covered her balled fist with his own. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I vow no one will speak of what we do this night. You have my word.”
