She waited for the raucous party to gain the far entrance and trundle the drunken Arnaud up the steps with many bumps and oaths she could hear all the way from her side of the house. She hoped no one else, like Sir Thomas, or Lord Howick heard the noise and investigated.
Arnaud could not fathom why his men did not want him to sing. He felt better than he had in weeks. Although he suspected that last jug of rum he’d downed at the inn was probably too much.
He’d drunk himself nearly blind, the better to keep from ever laying eyes on another woman again. Usually his encounters with the fairer sex were months apart, what with his duty at sea. In the last few weeks, however, he’d had to deal with more females than he could remember encountering in his entire life.
“Bourne,” he shouted, “le’sh have another verse of the one you always sing, you know, the one about a place where there’s no work, the ale mug’s a’ways full, and pretty ladies dance to a fiddle that never stops playing, yesh, that one.”
Bourne rushed over to Arnaud put his hands around his captain’s neck, forcing him down onto his pillows. “Shut your worthless English face before we get thrown out of a proper English house party, ye feckless sailor.” Just as the others pulled him off Arnaud, there was a light tap at the door. Everyone froze as Lord Howick and Arnaud’s mother, Honore, appeared. Only Arnaud’s valet, Artemis, remained while the others made their excuses and headed back to the inn.
His mother said nothing, but moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to Arnaud and forced him to drink a foul-looking concoction she’d brought with her.
When she left as suddenly as she’d appeared, Lord Howick took her place at the edge of Arnaud’s bed. “If I didn’t know what it feels like not to be able to declare yourself to the woman you love, I would have you sent to one of the farthest duties the Royal Navy offers, like maybe St. Helena, Captain Bellingham.”
Arnaud’s stomach still roiled from whatever his mother had forced down his throat, and he knew better than to argue with Lord Howick in his present state, so he remained silent.
Howick gave a small salute to Artemis and ordered, “No one is to see him until he sobers up. If anyone does, I will hold you personally responsible.
Artemis rolled up his sleeves and picked up a cold pitcher of water from a table near the open window. “The captain rarely over-imbibes spirits, so it’s that much harder on him when he does. We’ll have him just the thing in no time, Sir. You have my word.” He gave Lord Howick a wink and added, “He must have had a compelling reason to drown his troubles.
After Lord Howick left the room, Artemis rolled Arnaud out of bed in spite of his protests. His valet poised the pitcher above his head and warned, “This is going to be as cold as the Southern Sea, and if you make a sound, I’ll take that andiron by the fireplace to your head.”
Arnaud sat silently on the floor while Artemis went about bringing him back to sanity.
Sophie rushed back to the chamber she shared with Lydia and leaned against the door for a few moments before settling onto a comfortable chair in the corner. She’d moved the screen they used for privacy when bathing around the chair so that she wouldn’t disturb Lydia and read until the candle burned down to a stub and stuttered out.
The sunrise glowed pink at the horizon through the window when she finally found her bed and snuggled next to Lydia. Maybe she could find the ease of sleep for a few hours before she had to face the rest of the members of the house party. Sophie’s last thoughts before slumber claimed her were of her mother. Somehow, she now understood better why her mother had left the comfort of a ducal household to follow a totally unsuitable man into social oblivion. No matter how odious Arnaud’s behavior, a part of her still hungered for his touch.
Arnaud sat in a corner of Sir Thomas’s tack room in the largest of the horse barns. He leaned his chair against the wall and watched Lord Howick question Teddy Seaton. In spite of the late night they’d both had, courtesy of his own wooden-headed attempt to drown his sorrows, Lord Howick seemed alert and ready for what had to be done.
He’d had Seaton brought into Sir Thomas’s stable. The obnoxious weasel of a man sat there now with the local magistrate as witness while Howick questioned his cousin about what had possessed him to return from Wales to devil Sophie and Lydia. When Howick had asked Arnaud to sit in on the questioning, he had not mentioned anything about his pathetic attempt to drink himself into forgetfulness over what he assumed was Sophie’s final choice in a husband.
In spite of Lady Howick’s ongoing megrim since they’d arrived at Clifford Park, her son had met with her and brought her up to date on what had happened during the early morning hours of Saturday with Teddy. She’d agreed with his plan to turn the problem over to the local magistrate. She said she could no longer support her nephew in whatever he’d gotten involved in during his dogged pursuit of Sophie’s inheritance.
Teddy sat across from them at a rough wooden table, his expression sullen.
“Why did you come all the way from Wales to Clifford Park to try to interfere with Sophie and Lydia?”
“I’m not your servant. I can come and go as I please, can’t I?”
“I found you the position at the mine to give you a chance to make a go of your life on your own. Nothing more. The opportunity was yours to make of it what you will.” Howick poured a mug of water from a jug on the table. “Would you like some water?”
“No. What I want is to be on my way.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you leave until you tell me who you’re working for.”
“I thought I was working for you.”
“In Wales, not here. And while we’re on that subject, how did you know where we’d be?”
“You know what you say, Howick. Someone’s always watching, someone’s always listening.”
Arnaud had heard enough. He rose from his tilted chair, and everyone turned at the clatter of the legs knocking back onto the floor. He said nothing but simply walked behind Seaton’s chair and grasped one of his shoulders in an iron grip, squeezing and pushing down until Seaton finally squeaked, “Oy!”
Howick’s expression flickered, but he didn’t order Arnaud to ease his grip.
“Perhaps you’d like to ply your lying trade and sell your services elsewhere? I could arrange passage for you on a lag ship to Botany Bay.”
Something flickered for a moment in Seaton’s gaze before returning to his look of boredom and belligerence.
