His attempt at helping her eased her frustration. “Papa is right. As usual. You aren’t all right.”
The look of pride her papa gave her was worth the admission of guilt. Almost. The noise of a carriage stopping in the driveway broke the moment.
She ran to the window. A sleek black carriage with Sir Howard’s crest shone in the sunlight. “He’s here.”
Keith stiffened, his fingers clenching around the cup. Papa acquired that determined look that sent a chill down her back. There was the noise of the front door shutting. The footman saidsomething she didn’t understand. Footsteps sounded from the hallway. The closer they came, the tenser the atmosphere.
The footman opened the door and bowed. “Sir Howard.”
Papa put down his pipe. “Thank you, Mark.”
Sir Howard strode inside in a flutter of his black cloak that made him look like a giant crow. He removed his gloves with a yank, sweeping his gaze around as if surveying a heap of rubbish. The fact he hadn’t left his coat and hat to a servant meant he was in a hurry.
“Mr. Sharpe. What is the meaning of thisurgentmeeting? I’m a very busy man even when away from London.”
Keith shoved to his feet, a tremor going through him. He paled so much she was worried he might faint. Her papa stood up as well, but his wide stance had a menacing quality Violante had rarely seen. No, she hadn’t exaggerated when she’d mentioned his prowess. She loved him dearly, but she was aware her father could be lethal when he wanted to.
“Sir.” She bobbed a shallow curtsy.
The politician’s gaze lingered on Keith. “Have you stolen from these people? I swear if you did something wrong, I’m going to whip you myself.”
Violante gasped. Whip? What kind of monster was this man? Papa worked his jaw.
Sir Howard stepped closer to a shivering Keith. “What did you do now, cur?”
“Keith did nothing,” Papa answered before Keith could say anything. “There was an incident this morning, and Keith got injured. We took care of him.”
Sir Howard didn’t soften. His sharp chin, covered by a trimmed goatee, added to his Gothic novel villain’s persona. “I apologise for any inconvenience my clumsy servant might have caused you. I’m afraid Keith is slow both in the body and head. One of my servants found the sack of chestnuts he was supposedto fetch at the bottom of Windy Ridge. I should have known you were up to no good.”
“Keith dropped the sack because of me,” Violante said, ignoring Papa’s warning stare to stay silent. Likely, he would forbid her to read for another month. “My sledge hit him. His back is injured, and he broke a rib.”
“Thank you for your concern, miss.” Sir Howard grabbed Keith’s arm and gave it a yank. “We’ll take our leave now.”
Keith let out a muffled cry of pain. She shot forwards to free Keith, but her father was faster.
“Don’t touch him.” Papa closed the distance between himself and Sir Howard with two long strides. “Your behaviour is unacceptable.” He gave Sir Howard a shove that was light enough not to be rude but strong enough to force him to release Keith.
The shocked expression on Sir Howard’s face would be comical if not for the possible consequences of his wrath.
“How dare you?” he hissed.
Her father didn’t flinch. “Keith is under my protection, and I mean to employ him at my service.”
Keith grabbed the back of the armchair for support. Pain twitched his mouth. His serious glint matched Papa’s.
“Whatever for?” Sir Howard was flustered. “As I told you, he’s a poor servant and a lazy worker. Not worth your time.”
“Then you won’t mind losing him.” Papa wrapped an arm around Keith’s shoulders. “The lad stays here.”
“Does he agree?” Sir Howard angled towards Keith.
Everyone stared at him. He swallowed a couple of times, moving closer to Papa. “I want to stay with Mr. Sharpe.”
“You ungrateful brat.” Sir Howard raised a hand, but Papa blocked him before he could hit Keith.
“Get out of my house.” The air vibrated with the power of Papa’s warning.
“You stole my servant.”
A tendon in Papa’s neck beat a quick tempo. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
Sir Howard collected himself quickly as a good politician. “Should I?”
“I served overseas with the Royal Army Medical Corps in the Royal Warwickshire Dragoons. At that time, you worked for the Council of War and made the decision to send my men and me to war. You visited the garrison to wish us good luck before our departure, telling us how proud the empire was of us. You shook my hand and told me not to disappoint my country. I’m sure you’re aware of how few of us returned. Our operation was marked as the most disastrous one in terms of lives lost in a century.” He fell silent, but Violante had the feeling he restrained himself from adding something else.
Sir Howard remained still for a long moment. Then he fiddled with his cravat, seemingly unaffected by Papa’s words. “Do what you want. You’ll regret your decision, Mr. Sharpe, mark my words. This boy will cause you nothing but trouble.”
He marched out of the room in a wave of dark fabric, leaving his ominous words lingering in the sitting room.
