Page 58 of Pride of Honor
Artemis bowed toward Frannie, ignoring her fuming countenance, and led her by her gloved hand toward the new dance line. She threw one furious backward glance toward Arnaud before the music started.
What could have set off Frannie so that she would hazard a public spat at a simple country dance? When he glanced toward Admiral Longthorpe who had showed up in tandem with Arnaud’s former mistress on the previous night, the look on his face was grim.
Arnaud had no more than retreated to the wall he’d been leaning against earlier than he was joined by his surgeon, Cullen. When the musicians launched into a lively set, Cullen leaned toward Arnaud’s ear and in a harsh whisper, urged him to meet outside to look at something odd the men had found.
When Arnaud followed him, Cullen turned suddenly at the far end of the kitchen herb garden. He put a finger across his lips and peered around to see if they’d been followed.
“Frannie has been missing for weeks because she went to the country to get rid of a little problem,” Cullen said, and widened his eyes for emphasis.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Out with whatever you’re trying to say.” Arnaud frowned and pulled again at the blasted cravat.
“All right then. My father passed on someon ditsfrom court. Frannie had to get rid of an unwanted child.”
“But how could she have been increasing?”
Cullen chuckled. “N’er thought I’d have to gie ye a lesson on the birds and the bees.”
Arnaud’s mouth dropped open. “But who?”
Cullen lowered his voice again. “Betting at White’s says the babe belonged to Longthorpe.”
“Which explains why she’s frantic for me to make her an honest woman…” He gave himself a head-slap. “And why Longthorpe tried to push me into offering for her.”
Cullen said nothing, but nodded in assent.
“But she’s the dowager viscountess of Fairfield and the guardian of the heir.” Arnaud shook his head.
“Apparently, not for long, if what my father hears is to be believed. The viscount’s family is going to appoint a special guardian until the lad reaches his majority.”
“How did the news slip out?”
Cullen shrugged his shoulders. “There’s only one physician known for dealing well with such delicate conditions, and someone in his employ makes a little extra on the side by passing tidbits on to the gossip sheets.”
Arnaud’s head ached with a vengeance after a night of racing after willow-the-wisps in the north garden and constant interruptions whenever he managed to crawl into his bed. He never thought he would have yearned for the simplicity of days at sea with a stalwart deck beneath his feet.
Sophie bit back tears even as she forced out a smile for Sir Thomas. She’d just witnessed a scene from the dance floor between Arnaud and the ethereal blonde woman Lydia had warned her earlier was his rumored mistress. She’d accepted there was nothing but simple friendship between herself and Arnaud, but seeing him with that woman…the pain cut like a sharp chain tightening around her chest.
In spite of his mother’s dire warnings, Sir Thomas had asked the dance master and musicians to allow them the forbidden treat of a waltz, and he had just come across the line to claim Sophie for a series of face-to-face whirls down the line of dancers.
As soon as the dance ended, he captured her hand and did not let go. “Come outside with me to the garden to cool off.”
“I…no, er, we shouldn’t.”
“Please? We’ll stay on the lighted path. Just long enough to make sure those tears dry?”
“Oh—” Sophie pulled her hand away and covered her face. “I must look a fright. What will your guests think?”
He took a quick look around and turned his teasing smile back on her. “No one’s paying any attention. They’re having too much fun emptying my wine cellar.”
They walked a while in silence until they reached a stone bench guarded by two bare-breasted mermaid sculptures, fey smiles etched on their faces.
“Whoever decided to put these naughty creatures in your garden?” Sophie thought better of the question as soon as the words escaped her lips. She clapped her hand over her mouth. “I am so sorry. It is none of my business.”
Sir Thomas threw his head back and interrupted her apology with a mad bellow of laughter. “Sophie, Sophie, Sophie, promise me you will never change.” He placed a hand on each shoulder and turned her to face him. “You need never apologize to me. And my mother, the fierce dragon of a countess, chose those mermaids when she was about your age. My poor father was so infatuated, he could deny her nothing.”
“Now sit, Sophie, and hear me out.” Sir Thomas handed her his handkerchief, since hers was already twisted and sodden. “Dry your eyes. I have something to say, and I believe it is in your best interest to listen.”
Arnaud and Cullen made their way to the glass-doored entrance to the glittering ballroom, beckoning in the dark. As they angled back behind a path from the kitchen garden, there were Sophie and Sir Thomas, their heads close together in conversation beneath the light of a torch illuminating a stone bench.