“But,” Sophie said.
“No, it’s settled.” He nodded toward Lydia at his side. “I will discuss this with your father, Lord Howick. I know he will agree.”
Sophie dropped her cards to the table and buried her head in her hands for a moment before continuing.
The rest of the game passed in a blur. Sophie barely registered what cards she played unless Lydia jabbed her under the table. Of course, Lydia, ever knacky with cards, ended the game taking the most tricks along with Dr. MacCloud.
Arnaud flagged the first footman he saw pass through the long corridor outside the game room. The young man carried a tray with a used tea service on its way back down to the kitchen. Arnaud leaned his head close and asked, "Where is Lord Howick?"
The young man gestured with a slight incline of his head, toward the library at the end of the hallway.
"Thank you," Arnaud said, and the servant hurried on toward the downward staircase.
Cullen walked beside Arnaud on his steady progress down the hallway. "Are you mad? You do not know Lord Howick well enough to impose upon his good graces and disturb him this late at night."
"He is of the same mind as I am, I'm sure."
"And that would be…?"
“Miss Brancelli must be protected at all costs. Otherwise, she'll never find the right husband if these ruffians are allowed to roam free and threaten her again."
"And you'll know when she's found the 'right husband'?"
When they were outside the library door, Arnaud whirled toward his friend. "Are you questioning the wisdom of guarding this poor young woman?"
"No, but I think you should take her wishes into consideration before thrusting yourself into Lord Howick's presence." Cullen raised his index finger. "Imagine this. She makes her debut at her very first ball in a magnificent gown. She's studied all the best advice on etiquette and learned all the latest dances. There she is, trying to be a normal, young husband hunter…with a scowling, old salt trailing behind."
Arnaud poked his finger into Cullen's chest and demanded, "Are you saying we should stand by and let her ruin her life on her own, falling into God knows what kind of trouble?"
The library door swung open, and Lord Howick stood there, glaring. "Do come in, or would you rather disturb the rest of the household with your rousing debate in the hallway?"
Arnaud had time to give Cullen one last sullen look before Lord Howick pulled both of them inside and shut the door. He walked to a corner and pulled on the bell rope.
"Gentlemen," he said, after returning, "please sit," and pointed toward the chairs surrounding the fireplace.
The older man sat quietly for several minutes, making Arnaud wish he had never had such a numbskulled idea as to disturb the man in his own home. Lord Howick had powerful friends in Parliament, friends who held the purse strings, and power, over the Admiralty.
After a few minutes, a servant came in, stealthy as a wraith, and deposited a brandy decanter and glasses on the low leather-covered table before the fireplace.
Once the servant had shut the door behind him, Lord Howick leaned forward, giving both Arnaud and Cullen a slow, assessing look. "I've heard much about the two of you," he finally said.
Arnaud was afraid to turn his head to see the expression on Cullen's face, but he hoped whatever Lord Howick had 'heard' was good.
"Admiral Pellew speaks highly of both of you and your comrades in arms."
When Arnaud and Cullen remained wide-eyed and silent, he continued. "Your exploits at the Battle of Algiers in ’16 should be appreciated by everyone in England. The families of the Christian slaves freed that day can never repay the debt owed all of you. I understand many of your fellow officers did not survive the battle."
He took his glass of brandy and walked to the fireplace, where he paused for a long moment and stared into the flames. When he turned back to Arnaud and Cullen, the lines on his face seemed deeper, illumined by the fire. "My sister was one of the captives. She has her freedom now, but will never be able to reclaim the life she once had.
"So, Captain Bellingham and Dr. MacCloud, I too fear for Miss Brancelli's future if she is exposed without defense to whatever forces are at work to manipulate her, and her grandmother's inheritance. She's spent a great deal of time with our family. She is Lydia's best, and probably only, true friend. My mother and Miss Brancelli's grandmother were the greatest of friends as well."
His voice turned harsh. "I would warn both of you, however, that your own behaviors while protecting her, and Lydia, must be above reproach. You do not want to contemplate a future in the Royal Navy without my good regard. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly," Arnaud and Cullen said in unison.
"Then you should bid me farewell so that we can all seek our beds this night." He crossed to the bell once more, and soon a footman arrived to escort them out.
Arnaud and Cullen scuffed along Piccadilly back to Arnaud's rooms at Albany after leaving Arnaud's mother, Honore, at her townhouse on Hanover Square. She’d offered her carriage, but they refused, saying they had "things to talk over."
