“You’ve saved my reputation and very life twice now,” she murmured between sniffs. “Don’t you think you could call me by my Christian name, Sophia?”
He dropped to the ground at her feet and peeled back her left glove as well as his own to feel the arm the bastard had gripped while dragging her away from the museum. A dark bluish bruise already spread from her wrist. “Sophia,” he said, with a soft emphasis on her name, “you must also without fail cry out ‘Arnaud’ whenever you’re about to be seized by villains from now on.”
“I’m so s-sorry.” Unshed tears pooled in her eyes. Nonetheless, a tiny smile crooked at the corners of her mouth. “You expect me to anticipate villains in every shadowed corner and under every solitary bush?”
“Yes, I do, and you owe no one an apology,” Arnaud growled a bit, but returned her smile. He stood without another word, pulled her to his side, and wrapped a protective arm around her waist. His mother had alerted her footman to have the carriage brought around, and Arnaud motioned the groom and driver to come through the brick turnaround. Honore’s outriders waited on Great Russell Street and joined them when the carriage turned toward Howick House.
After the events at the museum, Sophie’s entire body hummed and tingled as if a cloud of bees surrounded her, but the pain wrought on her wrist in the kidnap attempt was nothing compared to the heat generated by Arnaud’s touch.
When he’d held her arm to look for injuries, his hands had trembled a bit as if he feared he might shatter her, like a rare vase in the museum. But when he’d pulled her close to accompany her to his mother’s carriage, she knew. He’d burned as much at her touch as she did at his.
Outside the coach windows, the early morning snow melted in the afternoon sun while they rocked on homeward to Howick House. The outriders now pressed closer to the carriage on Arnaud’s orders. He rode on one of the carriage horses in order to keep a sharper lookout on the way back, he’d told them.
Across from her, Lydia stared back, her eyes huge in the semi-darkened carriage. Mrs. Bellingham sat close to Sophie, her arm enclosing her in warmth. In addition, she’d had the coachmen produce a warm woolen blanket which Sophie now had wrapped around her shoulders and lap. Her feet were perched on the warm brazier on the floor.
“What are we going to do now?” Lydia asked. “How can you have your Season with kidnappers lurking everywhere?”
“Nonsense,” Honore said. “Arnaud and his fellow squadron officers are determined to increase the level of protection. You saw those lads with Arnaud. No one disagrees with them without threat of severe bodily harm.”
“But how?” Lydia began again.
“Arnaud is going to discuss his plans with your father when we return to Howick House, and I will reassure your grandmother.” After a thoughtful pause, Honore added, “This will affect her deeply. She was worried about you two even before the unfortunate events of this afternoon.”
Chapter Ten
Arnaud pacedacross the carpet in front of Lord Howick’s desk in the third-floor library at Howick House. When he’d criss-crossed the room at least a dozen times, Lord Howick rose and turned to the tantalus next to his desk. Without a word, he filled a rummer glass from a decanter of deep amber brandy and extended the glass to Arnaud. Arnaud shook his head, but Lord Howick grasped his arm in a firm grip and made him take the drink.
Howick returned to the tantalus and poured two more glasses for Cullen and himself. After settling into an overstuffed chair by the fire, he stared back at Arnaud and Cullen and commanded, “Sit.” When Arnaud demurred, he insisted again in a tone of voice that brooked no argument.
Arnaud complied and exchanged glances with his surgeon.
“Now, Captain, I appreciate your frustration with the incident at the museum, but we cannot lose sight of our main goal here. We need to get my daughter and Miss Brancelli through the Season so that Sophia can fulfill the terms of her grandmother’s will.”
“How can I protect them when someone is offering a reward on the streets of this city for the abduction of Miss Brancelli?” Arnaud shoved to the edge of his chair and downed the last of his brandy. “No matter what I do, I’m thwarted at every turn by whoever is behind this diabolical plot to ruin her. I fear even your daughter or my mother might be injured if more of these incidents occur. I’m used to facing the enemy in the open, not some blackguard skulking about in the dark.”
Lord Howick waved a calming hand in Arnaud’s direction. “I fully understand your frustration, but we cannot give in to villainy.”
Cullen leaned forward and placed his drink on a side table. “We’re going about this all wrong. What we need is a map.”
“A map?” Arnaud had forgotten how dense and stubborn his surgeon could be. Of course he had been right a lot of the time too. “We’re looking for ideas here, and you want a description of the geography?”
“Exactly. If we track where the attacks have taken place, and we can predict where Miss Brancelli will be throughout this blasted ‘Season’ you Englishmen seem to need for courtship, then we should know where and when to plan for guard duty. Ye have three hulking fellow officers with the hardest heads ever to collide in a harbor-front tavern.”
Lord Howick set down his brandy glass and stroked his beard. “You’re right, Dr. MacCloud. And the area in which the Season takes place is not that large. After all, we’re not talking about the whole of England. Mayfair is but a small corner of London. Also, there is one other important thing I believe you should consider, Captain Bellingham.”
“And that is?”
“I hope you will not dispute or react to my observation, but considering your behavior today, do you not think perhaps your feelings for the woman you’ve sworn to protect may have compromised the proper detachment required?
Arnaud jumped from his chair, sloshing his refilled brandy glass which was saved only by Dr. MacCloud’s deft intervention. Before Arnaud could charge around Lord Howick’s desk, his surgeon’s iron grip saved him from a fatal blunder and lowered him back into his chair.
Lord Howick leaned forward and observed Arnaud over his spectacles. “Just as I thought, Dr. MacCloud. You are in agreement of course?”
“Ne’er seen him this worked up over a lass. This swab has always been a cold one when it comes to women.” A wide grin spread over Cullen’s face.
Arnaud threw his surgeon a dark look which would have terrified most of their other shipmates. Fortunately, Cullen had been through the worst a man could endure with his old friend and ignored the signs of wrath.
Lord Howick interrupted Arnaud’s silent war of glares with his surgeon and asked, “Now about the other two men you’ve dragooned into guard duty. What do I need to know about those gentlemen? I would prefer to avoid any surprises.”
