He turned away after handing off the sketch, but then made a sharp turn back. “And if you have any idea what I might have done to offend Miss Brancelli, please send word so that I can make amends. We will be ready to leave as soon as the men pack our trunks and arms. We’ll wait at the crossroads near the inn to join you. If we’re lucky, we may beat the afternoon storm back to town.” This time he left without a backward glance.
The Rumsfords were leaving in a flurry of trunks, maids and footmen, and as their carriage rolled toward the front steps, Sophie’s bad dog Lancelot chose that moment to race from his warm bed in the stables and fling himself beneath the wheels on his determined, mindless path to the front entrance of Clifford Park house. His frightened squeals made Sophie run to the window and press her face against the pane.
At that moment, Arnaud flung himself beneath the wheels as well and snatched her naughty dog out of harm’s way before handing him off to one of the footmen. Then he walked steadily away, brushing the dust from his buckskins and jacket, his boots crunching against the stones along the drive.
She’d always wondered if a heart could physically break, and now she knew. Hers was in pieces all over the Fitzroy family sitting room carpet. Later, the maids would wonder where all the shards had come from and sweep them into a dustbin.
Lydia padded close behind her and gave her some awkward pats on the back. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Instead of explaining, Sophie turned and buried her head onto her friend’s shoulder, sobbing wet tears. Lydia joined her, pouring out her own sorrows.
After they’d shared a good cry leaving their eyes red and puffy, Lydia remembered the sketch Arnaud had wanted Sophie to see.
After Sophie took the drawing, Lydia said she would take a short walk in the garden before heading up to their chamber to supervise packing with Jane. Once her friend left, Sophie studied the man’s features for a few minutes before thudding down onto the sofa. Memories she’d been holding back flooded through her senses, as sharp and keen as the day she’d left the ducal mansion. The cruel features of the man in the drawing were very close to what she remembered.
After her grandmother’s will had been read, her uncle had exploded into a fury and hired the man to watch over her. Why, Sophie wondered, with her uncle’s immense wealth, had he begrudged her the small inheritance from her grandmother?
She’d never heard the man appointed as her keeper called anything other than Otis. He was ever outside her door, refusing to allow her to venture beyond the estate without him. His eyes followed her everywhere, and one day, he walked into her chamber without knocking to tell her the duke had given her to him, to prepare herself to leave with him the next day.
Later that night, her uncle’s housekeeper had one of the maids distract Otis while she quietly led Sophie out of the house. They threw a few of her belongings into a cart and, with the help of a footman on his day off, she escaped to her father’s small, topsy-turvy cottage.
Her gut churned at the thought of what would happen if she told Lord Howick, or heaven forbid, Arnaud, of what she knew. Everyone had suffered enough on her account. Her uncle was a ruthless, soulless man. She alone knew of what violence and duplicity he was capable when crossed. Now she was certain who was behind all the attempts to destroy her. And there was nothing she could do.Jupiter.
At a tap at the door, she found a footman holding out Lancelot. The mischievous pup reveled so in playing with the other dogs in the barn, his coat looked nearly as gray as the day she first spied him flinging himself into danger on Rotten Row. He had not changed one bit despite the gift of a noble name, she thought, as she carried him back to the kitchen for a treat. She would find a tub of warm, soapy water to douse him in before sending the pup back to London with Arnaud’s mother.
Arnaud watched dark gray clouds scud across the sky. If he were at sea, he’d have his crew shorten all the canvas. Looked as though they might not beat the storm back to town.
He leaned forward in his saddle and peered down the road toward Clifford Park. He thought he could see the dust of Howick’s team. Just as he alerted everyone to get ready to fall in behind the other carriage, the clouds opened and the deluge began. Jagged shards of lightning appeared at short intervals above the trees in the close.
Arnaud, Bourne, and Neville, who were riding outside the military-like convoy of carriages, pulled on greatcoats from their packs and adjusted the collars against the downpour. At a hand signal from Arnaud, Neville urged his mount forward to trot alongside the Howick carriage.
If their mission were not so serious, Arnaud mused how laughable it would be to see a bunch of Royal Navy officers acting like they were in the cavalry.
At that moment, there was a crack of lightning so loud, and so near, Arnaud thought he might have been struck. Suddenly the rain pouring over his head was mixed with blood, a lot of blood. He fell off his horse, and everything went black.
Sophie and Lydia clung to each other after the latest crack of lightning lit up the wood around them. Several more strikes in a row soon after that had even Lord Howick peering out the windows, trying to see what was happening.
Sophie could no longer see Captain Neville trotting next to them, so thick was the rain pelting down around them. In addition to the heavy rain, there also seemed to be a thick fog settling in. She dismissed a sudden frisson of fear by closing her eyes and seeing the comforting vision of Arnaud riding behind them. Nothing bad could happen to her while he was near.
Lieutenant Richard Bourne was the first to see Arnaud knocked from his horse. He shouted to the guards from Honore’s river warehouses who rode both in front of and behind her carriage ferrying the men of Arnaud’s squadron. One of them went to his side while Bourne galloped ahead and pounded on the carriage door. Dr. MacCloud was riding inside, waiting his turn at rain-sodden guard duty.
He rode back with Bourne to where Arnaud lay. The carriage would take longer to turn around on the narrow lane. The men would have to unhitch the horses and pull the carriage around by the traces to head back to Clifford Park.
“Is he breathing?” Bourne squatted anxiously next to Cullen as he probed and prodded at the area where a large amount of blood still pulsed from Arnaud’s head.
Cullen turned, his frown grim. He held two fingers at the side of Arnaud’s neck. “Impossible to know out here in this deluge and thunder. He does have a faint pulse. We’ll have to get him inside, and dry, the sooner the better.” He ripped off his own shirt, balled it into a tight wad, and pressed hard against the area of most blood pouring from Arnaud’s skull.
They looked at each other and came to the same conclusion. “Back to Clifford Park,” they agreed in unison. With that terse decision, Cullen climbed onto Arnaud’s horse which still stood nearby grazing in the wet grass. Bourne heaved up Arnaud’s limp form, still pressing Cullen’s sodden, bloody shirt against the wound.
Bourne threw a wet salute to the ship’s surgeon as he disappeared into the storm. He trudged back toward the carriage, his mind racing in multiple directions. He suddenly calmed when he realized what his commander would want. When he got back to the carriage, he first climbed inside to give the news to Artemis, Captain Bellingham’s valet. That man decided to walk back to the country house where he could be of help.
Bourne organized Mrs. Bellingham’s guards to send the carriage back to the house with a minimal team of two and the drivers while the rest of them would take the remaining horses and catch up to the Howick carriage. Someone was out there armed and determined to use murderous means to interfere with Miss Brancelli. Bourne had no doubt where Captain Bellingham would want them to be.
Sophie let out the long breath she’d been holding when the lightning strikes began to occur farther and farther apart. The rain and mists outside the carriage windows also seemed to lighten a bit.
They could finally see Captain Neville riding alongside. Lord Howick leaned forward and gave him a wave. Just as Neville waved back, a larger group of horsemen joined them, and a series of loud knocks caused the driver to pull over and stop.
Sophie felt as though she’d been pushed from behind while peering over a high cliff.
As soon as the carriage stopped, the door opened and Lieutenant Bourne leaned in. “Something’s happened. We need to increase the guards and quicken the pace as much as possible.”
