Just as she grabbed Lydia’s hand to pull her away from the group around them, Lord Howick arrived with a very tall, distinguished gentleman in tow.
“Miss Brancelli, may I introduce Barrister Sir Thomas James, one of my colleagues? Sir Thomas, this is Miss Brancelli, granddaughter of the late Duchess of Wolford, a great friend of our family. Miss Brancelli is a very accomplished poet who has been Lydia’s closest friend since they were in the nursery.”
“I am beyond charmed to make your acquaintance, Miss Brancelli. I had no idea Howick’s nursery harbored such loveliness all these years. And now I’m the last to know.”
He threw a mock accusing look at Lord Howick.
Sophie stopped breathing for a moment. This man was not what she’d expected. He obviously inhabited an exalted position in the ton. What should she do? Say?
He did not wait for her to collect her thoughts but instead bent low and brushed the back of her hand with his lips. “Miss Brancelli, would you grant me the honor of a dance?” Sophie curtsied in acknowledgment before he swept her into the next dance set.
On the way to join the other dancers, he whispered, “Now you are all mine for this dance and the next until we go in to supper.”
Sophie’s heart beat a double-time tattoo before racing even faster when she glanced up to where Arnaud stood by the ballroom entrance. His face betrayed raw feelings. You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me either, Sophie thought bitterly.
Boiling anger replaced uncertainty as Sophie held her head high and took her place across from the barrister to begin the set. She’d been avoiding the older man’s gaze until now. When he finally caught her attention, he gave her a conspiratorial smile. Warmth spread from her inflamed face to the tender space below her collar bone. Had he caught her glance at Arnaud? Did he suspect her true feelings?
Formal ballroom dances were nothing like the wild whirling around the kitchen in her father’s tiny cottage. The impromptu gatherings of his friends and fellow writers always ended there after the impoverished group imbibed however many bottles of inexpensive wine they could afford.
Thank heavens she’d learned the steps well after many hours with Lydia’s dance master. She didn’t have to think of the forms and steps. She merely let herself go with the flow of music. The few times she faltered, Mr. James would gently touch her shoulder to re-direct her on her way. He somehow knew when she was confused and kept both of them moving through the set. When at last they were at the top of the line again, he gave her a soft clap and mouthed, “Bravo.”
Chapter Fourteen
Arnaud’s gut churned like a cauldron of uncertainty. Although he would still keep his watchful instincts on high alert, from where he stood, it looked as though Sophie might soon find her happy ending. Lord Howick’s friend, the barrister James, had an impeccable standing within the ton. And based on the gazes and smiles the man had shared with Sophie out on the ballroom floor, Arnaud suspected his guard duty might soon come to an abrupt end.
In addition to James being the third son of an earl, he also was a well-known breeder of fine horse flesh. In fact, he’d been named a fellow of the Royal Society for his advances in animal husbandry at his estate north of London. Arnaud probably shouldn’t have investigated the barrister so thoroughly when he saw his name on the list of guests, but he couldn’t help himself. He knew for a certainty what he hated to admit. This man could care for Sophia Brancelli the way she deserved to be cared for.
He would consult with his mother to be sure, but as far as he knew, there was never a whisper of scandal about the man, despite the wide swath he cut in society. This was the best thing that could have happened. She deserved the best in life, and by damn, James had better provide the same.
If he felt so good about Sophie’s future, he should be dusting off his hands and moving on with his life. But why did his heart grind to a halt every time he saw her smile at the tall man moving her through the sets? The minute she accepted a proposal, Arnaud would have to get as far away from London as possible.
How about as far as the west coast of Africa? Long, hot nights of swatting mosquitoes and longer days of taking the tender up slaver-infested estuaries were certainly preferable to this slow death of watching Sophie dance away from him in the arms of another man.
“Captain Bellingham.”
Someone leaned toward his ear and spoke low in an urgent voice. Lord Howick. “Do not show any alarm,” he said, “but someone just tried to set my mews on fire.”
Arnaud immediately snapped to attention and followed Howick toward the rear of the house. When they passed Lieutenant Bourne racing from the lower level kitchen area, Arnaud snapped, “Front entrance—now!”
Bourne trotted toward Arnaud’s former post while Arnaud and Lord Howick continued to rush outside to the mews.
Damn. They’d thought of every eventuality within Howick House, but not the mews. He hoped the fire was not deliberately set, but his wary captain’s instincts told him an accidental fire was unlikely on the very night of Sophie’s coming-out ball. Only fools trusted coincidence.
Since Sir Thomas James was Sophie’s partner for the dance before supper, they walked into the Howicks’ sumptuous formal dining room together. A long line of guests chose from the many dishes lining a huge horseshoe arrangement of tables covered with white linen, blazing candelabras, and lilies atop mirrored trays. Lydia must have emptied someone’s hothouse. The trays beneath her friend’s floral creations echoed the flickering arrangements endlessly in the mirrors inlaid on the high ceiling above the table and on the surrounding walls where candles in sconces magnified the glow.
Sophie carefully balanced a plate of an assortment of delicacies Sir Thomas chose for her: small pieces of ham; cold roast chicken, and veal; lobster salad; cauliflower florets and tiny, perfect potatoes in béchamel sauce; pineapple jelly; and an apricot tart.
Standing to supper was much preferable to wrestling the intricately embellished hem of her skirt so she could comfortably sit at a table. Footmen circled the room with additional trays of food. After they settled near a free corner of the ballroom, Sir Thomas leaned close and asked, “Are you truly having a good time?”
Sophie raised her head and confronted his warm brown gaze. The small lines at the edges of his eyes spoke of a man used to living well and laughing. A lot.
“What an odd question,” Sophie answered. “Of course, I’m having a wonderful time.” She lifted a water goblet, nodding to the footman behind her. He expertly filled the glass and stepped back to await further orders. “Two months ago I was the frugal housekeeper for my poor father’s household, and now here I am enjoying the Howicks’ beautiful home. And,” she added, “your charming company. What else could a woman want?”
Sir Thomas threw back his head and gave out a full-throated laugh, crinkling the skin at the edges of his eyes, the way she knew he would. If she could not spend the rest of her life with the man she loved, then why not with a man who loved to laugh?
He leaned in close after a footmen passed by with a tray of the soup course and said, “Miss Brancelli, your candor is refreshing. I cannot wait to teach you how to canter through the rock-strewn paths of London society.”
Sophie turned a little pale. “Sir, I have never ridden.”
“I wasn’t speaking strictly of equestrian activities, but you cannot enjoy my friendship without sampling the joys of my stables. Trust me on this. You will not be able to deny the fine beauties I’ve raised and trained since they were colts.”
She maintained the smile on her face, but beneath her heavy skirts her foot tapped nervously in time to the light strains of Mozart coming from musicians in the alcove playing through the supper hour.
When guests began returning to the ballroom, Sir Thomas escorted her back to where Lady Howick and Mrs. Bellingham sat.
He gave her another mischievous wink and said, “I have a previous appointment this evening at my club, but we must soon take a turn in the pa
rk in my new curricle. The horses will be jealous, but they’ll forgive me once they get to know you. May I call within a few days?”
“Of course.” Although Sophie nodded and gave him a confident smile, a flutter of uncertainty crept from her heart to her throat. This game of husband-hunting was more terrifying than she’d thought.
Sir Thomas bowed low over her hand before exchanging pleasantries with Lady Howick and Mrs. Bellingham. When he asked Lady Howick for the whereabouts of her son, she said, “Some sort of disturbance in the mews. He and Captain Bellingham went to investigate. They should return soon.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Nothing serious, I hope. He took the dowager marchioness’s hand and added, “Give him my regards and tell him I’ll see him later this week.” With that, the tall barrister made his way out of the ballroom.
Sophie turned slowly and faced the questioning stares of her two patronesses. She wanted to deny what she was sure swirled through their minds, but even she couldn’t say what was in her heart.
“What do you think of Sir Thomas, my dear?” Lady Howick asked.
“I barely know the man.” Sophie blew hard at the feathers dipping down over her eyes. “We just met.”
“But certainly you have some sort of feeling in place after two dances and supper.” Honore picked a bit of lint from one of her gloves before looking up toward Sophie.
“He is very kind, he likes to laugh a lot…” Sophie stopped to think for a few moments. “Oh, and he loves his horses. A man who loves such beautiful creatures can’t be all bad. Can he?”
No one had a chance to answer, because Lady Howick’s nephew, Teddy, chose that moment to appear.
“Aunt,” he said, bowing low. “And Mrs. Bellingham. I certainly did not expect to see you here.”
Sophie fumed at his impertinence, but Arnaud’s mother remained cool and aloof.
“I have to confess I too am surprised at your presence,” Honore said. “I understand no one has heard from you in some time. Is there a reason you waited until tonight at Sophie’s coming out ball to honor us with your company?”
Arnaud and Lord Howick leaned over and examined the remains of the small blaze the grooms had handily extinguished. It looked like nothing more than a clumsy attempt to cause a disturbance. Very little fuel had been piled in the corner by the main entrance to the stables where the fire had started.
“What are your thoughts?” Lord Howick gave Arnaud a sharp look.
“I think someone wanted to create a diversion to take us away from Sophie. They didn’t count on your servants being so quick to extinguish the blaze.
“Most of the men in my employ survived Waterloo. There is nothing they are not prepared for. I warned everyone to remain on high alert tonight.”
“Then we have to get back to the ballroom and make sure Sophie is safe. That’s where they’ll try to strike next.” Arnaud broke into a trot toward the main house.
Sophie worked her way up the set she’d agreed to dance with Teddy, maintaining as much distance as possible between them. She’d nearly forgotten how oppressive his presence could be, how snide his every comment. His comments were always twisted, to force her to remember her place.
“I hope for your sake no one has inquired about your parentage tonight,” he suddenly whispered low into her ear while passing close in the midst of one of the partnered patterns of the set. That was the final blow. Sophie’s steps faltered and she couldn’t stop her cheeks from flaming. She determined to give him a proper set-down later, but didn’t have to.
Arnaud appeared like a wraith in stark black and made a smooth exchange for Teddy’s place in the set, scarcely missing a step. “He looked quite ill. Had to get him off the floor,” Arnaud explained to Sophie and for the benefit of anyone else close enough to hear. Teddy moved rapidly off the floor in the company of Captain Neville, as if a good friend had come to his aid. The marine captain must have had a tight grip on Teddy’s arm since he rose nearly on tiptoes alongside Arnaud’s fellow guard while he was led off.
A nearby tall, muscular footman nodded to Arnaud before moving swiftly away from the ballroom behind Captain Neville.
Sophie felt as though her lungs were about to burst. She took a deep inhale before exhaling again. Teddy’s slur, which surely was calculated to spoil her evening, must have shocked her into holding her breath. Across the line of dancers, Arnaud’s steady stare gave nothing away as he moved through the next steps of the dance. He’d saved her again. Would she ever be able to repay the many debts owed this man?
At the end of the set, her hands still shook. Arnaud said nothing, but covered them with his, bowed low, and motioned toward the doorway to the garden.
Once they were outside, Arnaud confided, “I know what he said.”
“How?” Sophie shuddered at the memory of the words she thought only she had heard.
“It doesn’t matter.” Arnaud’s face filled with anger. “Over the last few weeks, I’ve seen many expressions flit across your face, but I’ve never seen hurt and fear. That monster will pay for his cruelty.”
“He, he wanted to know if anyone had asked about my parentage tonight.” Sophie hung her head and tried to hide the tears threatening to slide down her cheeks.
Arnaud placed two gloved fingers beneath her chin and lifted her face. “I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him where he stands.”
“No,” Sophie cried out, but immediately lowered her voice, realizing the other couples strolling the Howick gardens might overhear. “He is Lady Howick’s nephew, Lord Howick’s cousin. I would never wish their family harm.”
After delivering Teddy to the library without uttering a word, Captain Neville turned and quietly shut the door behind him.
Lord Howick stared into the banked fire for long minutes with his back to his cousin without acknowledging the young man’s presence.
Howick suddenly turned and advanced close to him. “I have one question. Why would anyone try to intimidate the granddaughter of a duke, a lady who is under the protection of a marquess who sits in the House of Lords?”
The younger man took an awkward step back and muttered beneath his breath. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“In my house you must never forget someone is always watching, someone is always listening.” Howick gave him no chance to react before delivering another blistering accusation. “And you might also explain how you came to arrive at the ball at exactly the same time someone set my mews on fire. I should warn you that my men have apprehended the ruffians waiting in the rented hack parked behind the garden gate. If they turn out to be your associates, I will hand you over to the runners along with the three of them, so you’d better hope they do not reveal any connection to you.”
Teddy gave his lips a nervous lick and shifted his gaze back and forth as if looking for a way to escape. “I would never hurt her. I’m in love with her. I, I was hoping I could persuade her to come with me to Gretna. You don’t know what she’s really like,” he said, his voice shaky and breaking. “Why, she’s been brazen. She’s given me encouragement and some hope of affection every time I’ve been here, and…”
“Stop and think very carefully before you let fall your next words.” Lord Howick’s tone turned harsh. “We both know Miss Brancelli has always been nothing but courteous and polite to a fault toward everyone in this house, including your own worthless self.” The older man moved even closer and pushed Teddy hard on the chest. “Affection toward a young man who has rarely spared her a kind word? I think not. I’ve deposited enough blunt in your account to take you far from London. One of my colleagues in Lords needs a clerk for his mine in Wales. You leave in the morning. I will explain the circumstances to your aunt.”
“And the men in the hack?” Teddy condemned himself with the question even though his face had turned pale as parchment and he shook like a terrified child.
“The runners will deal with that lot.” Howick gave Teddy a black look. “Or is there something you want to tell me befo
re they reveal what they know?”
“No, no,” Teddy trailed off without further explanation.
“Here are your letters of introduction and train tickets.”
Teddy grasped the heavy envelope and pivoted so hastily, he stumbled on the heavy Turkish carpet.
When Teddy opened the library door, Captain Neville, along with a tall, muscular footman, stood ready to accompany him out of the house.
“Sergeant Randall,” Howick said, addressing the footman, “please make sure Mr. Seaton arrives at his final destination. If he tries to escape, use any means, ah, necessary, to ensure he fulfills his responsibilities.”
“Aye, m’lord.”
“And, Teddy, if you wish to communicate with Sergeant Randall at any time during your journey to Wales, you must turn your face toward him. He lost his hearing with Mercer’s artillery at Waterloo. But he reads lips.”
After the men left with his wretched excuse for a cousin, Howick poured himself a small swirl of brandy from the corner tantalus before re-joining his guests. He dreaded the talk he would have to have later with his mother.
Chapter Fifteen
Sophie sucked in a breath and prayed her companion did not notice her overset nerves. She clutched the seat on both sides, hoping to hide the slight shaking of her hands. Could the ground really be that far away?
Sir Thomas, next to her on the high seat of his curricle, murmured low to his spirited team dancing in their traces. They seemed overly high strung to her, unaccustomed as she was to sensitive thoroughbreds. Her experience had been limited to the steady teams that drew the Howick and Wolford carriages of her childhood.
Sir Thomas laid a gentle gloved hand over her clenched one gripping the seat. “I would never allow any harm to come to you, Miss Brancelli. You must believe me. And besides, your ever-present guardian chevalier follows us a few places back in the Howick carriage. You are certainly the most protected young woman in Mayfair today.” He pointed to another curricle moving around St. James Square. “See that young couple? They are perfectly safe and enjoying the day. Neither one of them appears to have fallen into the street. Their horses have not run away with them.” He chuckled low. “In fact, you are probably much safer than they.”
Pride Of Honor: Men of the Squadron Series, Book 1 Page 13