“He handles all my investments, my dear. He will take care of the transfer of funds. Do not worry for one minute. Some day when you are settled in your own home, perhaps you can keep me company from time to time. I would so like to remain friends. I require nothing more.” She patted Sophie’s hand.
“Mrs. Bellingham and her son await the two of you in the drawing room.” She gave Sophie a reassuring smile. To Lydia she gave a stern warning. “Please do not make them wait, and under no circumstances embarrass Captain Bellingham.”
Her last warning floated down the hallway as she headed for the staircase. “And, Lydia, for heavens’ sakes, please consider your poor father’s sensibilities. He does not have bottomless pockets with which to indulge your every whim.”
Chapter Eight
Arnaud sat patiently in the Howicks’opulent sitting room, barely moving an eyelid. Now that he was back in London, waiting had become a fine art: waiting for orders from the Admiralty; waiting for the wind or weather to change; waiting for his turn to come, his time to move up the chain of command.
Waiting for a pack of women to embark on a day of shopping was little more than a minor obstacle. His mother’s tenacity in planning and negotiating meant this entire day and quite possibly the rest of the week would be forfeit to Lord Howick’s directive - protect Sophie and Lydia at all costs.
It was difficult to miss the flurry and chatter proceeding down the marble-floored hallway outside the sitting room. A steady drip from the snow packed onto the bottoms of his boots, distracting before, now was drowned out by the excitement headed his way. Beside him, his mother smiled and put a light, restraining hand on his arm, her way of begging his indulgence a while longer.
When the door opened and the young women rushed in with Lady Lydia’s maid, he forgot precisely where his mind had been in the few preceding moments. The look of pleasure on Miss Brancelli’s face was worth all the annoyance and wait. He feared the memory of that look would follow him all the way to the coast of Africa and beyond. He thanked the wind gods he’d decided Miss Brancelli was totally unsuited to his way of life. He did not know if he could go back to sea for months or years at a time and leave behind such a magical creature.
Her dark eyes sparkled in anticipation of the day ahead and he wondered if the light blush on her cheeks might possibly be a reaction to him as more than just their bodyguard for the day.
He realized with a start he’d been woolgathering when his mother gave him a not-so-subtle poke in the side. He stood immediately and bowed toward the two young women.
“It is a great pleasure to see the two of you again. I hope my presence will not interfere with your enjoyment of the day, but Lord Howick was firm on the subject. He does not want you traveling about the city without protection.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Arnaud wished he could take them back. Miss Brancelli cast her eyes toward the floor, blocking his view of her face. She gripped her friend’s hand as if in apology and looked toward Lady Howick.
“Now, Lydia and Sophia.” Lady Howick stumped toward them, bracing herself with her cane. “You know you had a near thing the other day, and we’re all worried about your safety. However, there’s no reason you cannot enjoy the day as if Captain Bellingham were not along.” She gave him a pointed look. “I’m sure he will be suitably occupied, looking for suspicious fellows. You’ll barely know he’s there.”
“Exactement,” his mother interjected. “Waiting patiently is my son’s special gift.”
When Lady Howick glanced out the tall windows overlooking the square, Honore added, “As you can see, I’ve added two outriders-guards from our warehouse-to the carriage today as well. We will be a moving fortress between here and my modiste’s shop.”
“Which means nothing should stand between us and our mission,” Arnaud said, and moved to retrieve his mother’s cape and his overcoat from the footman waiting at the doorway.
“I knew I could depend on your help,” Lady Howick said, and walked slowly with the help of her maid toward a heavily cushioned chair near the fireplace. “Young James will see you out.”
Sophie tucked her boot-clad feet next to Lydia’s on the long, narrow brazier cover in the center of the coach floor. She squirmed at the luxuriant warmth radiating from the glowing coals and burrowed her hands deeper within Lydia’s fur muff from the previous Season.
Her friend gave her a sharp poke in the ribs and gestured toward Captain Bellingham. He sat across from them, his Hessians polished to a high gloss. Chin in hand, he stared out the coach window at the heavy, late snowfall. A dark lock of hair had fallen over his face, obscuring his expression.
Sophie tamped down the feelings he inspired by admitting he was probably bored to the utmost. Her cheeks flamed in embarrassment at the memory of why he’d been forced to join their shopping expedition. She was certainly to blame, although she had no idea why. Someone wished her harm for no discernible reason.
She was tired of worrying about whether she’d ever get aproper gentlemanto come up to scratch. She was tired of other people worrying about her as well.
The first good thing she’d experienced in a while was a new poem she’d finished the night before, a fantasy of Venice. Perhaps she’d send some of her work to her father’s old publisher and tell him the truth about her identity. Paolo Brancelli’s poetry had sold fairly well in England and on the continent. Perhaps the man would take a chance on her.
“Miss Brancelli…”
She started at the sound of her name.
“Your cheeks are red. Are you too close to the brazier?” Captain Bellingham had turned toward her. He leaned forward with his hands on his knees, a look of concern on his face.
“No,” she blurted out, and then blushed even more when she discovered she was the center of attention.
“How long will you and your ship’s surgeon remain in London, Captain Bellingham?” Lydia’s voice washed over Sophie.
She could have hugged her friend for changing the subject but instead covered Lydia’s hand with a quick squeeze.
“We delivered a prize ship for re-fitting to the Portsmouth Royal Navy shipyard. We’ll sail her back as soon as all the repairs are completed. However, she needs a new mainmast, which is curing there in a water-filled trench.”
Captain Bellingham’s voice was more animated, and his usually stiff demeanor dropped. Sophie realized with a start his ship and crew were nearly as important to him as his family.
“Dr. MacCloud as my surgeon is part of the crew, and we’re all on leave for a month before we take the ship back to the West Africa Station.”
