afraid of nothing. Arthur did not care who the man was, or what he wanted, but he would see the back of the Frenchman at once.
Arthur did not take his eyes off the man in front of him. “I do not know who you are. I do not know where you came from. I have no idea why you are intent on harassing my companion. But know this. Your harassment ends now. Leave, and I will forget that your address was less than civil to a lady.”
The Frenchman went from looking annoyed to mildly amused. “And why, if I may inquire, do you care what happens to the lady or her wares?”
Arthur drew himself up to his full height, trying his level best to remember that he was a gentleman and not to pummel the smirk from the man’s sallow face. “I care, because she is my wife.”
Chapter 2
Serena had thought for one moment that she was dreaming when she saw her old friend Arthur sitting in the middle of the Unicorn, drinking a pint. Now that she heard him declare her to be his wife, she knew that, instead, she had lost the last of her wandering wits.
She realized that she could not let this farce go any further. She had dragged Arthur deep enough into her troubles. Though his father and hers had been as close as brothers, she could not stand on an old family acquaintance and leave Arthur, a peer of the realm, telling lies for her sake.
She ignored Arthur’s silent order, and stood at last.
“Monsieur Galliard,” she said at last, hoping that diplomacy would fail where stealth and intrigue had not. “I am sure we can come to an accommodation.”
She was even in that moment calculating how much of her inheritance she might sell off in order to bribe this man to leave her in peace, when Arthur Farleigh, her childhood friend, glared at her, sending an odd, illicit shiver down her spine. She had forgotten how clear the blue of his eyes were, and had also forgotten how they snapped like cerulean flame when he was angry.
“There will be no accommodation,” Arthur said, turning back to the Frenchman, and to the matter at hand. “If you do not leave at once, I will consider that you wish to offer insult. In such a case, my second will call on you before the sun has set.”
Galliard stood and stared at Arthur, clearly trying to decide if the man was in earnest, or simply bluffing. Had anyone else been defending her, Serena would have known that he was simply being gallant, and perhaps showing off. But it was not just any man who defended her. It was Arthur Farleigh. He meant what he said.
Galliard was not a gentleman. He was not even an archeologist, as her father had been, as she still was. He was simply a middle man, intent on stealing her father’s findings in order to sell them to the highest bidder. Galliard cared nothing for art, and less for history. He cared only that he made a profit. This informed self-interest carried the day, as Serena knew it would.
“Monsieur,” Galliard said with a slight bow from the neck. “I do apologize if I have given offense. Your wife …” The Frenchman caressed the word with contempt, as he knew very well that she was as unmarried as the day she was born. “Must accept my apology as well. I will leave you to your bread and…” More contempt was heaped on the table. “Small beer.”
He tipped his hat to Serena, and she saw in the glint of his hazel eyes that he was mocking her. “Good day, Miss. Until we meet again.”
“We will not meet again,” Arthur said, stepping forward so that Serena was effectively blocked from the other man’s sight. “Good
Arthur did not take his eyes off the man in front of him. “I do not know who you are. I do not know where you came from. I have no idea why you are intent on harassing my companion. But know this. Your harassment ends now. Leave, and I will forget that your address was less than civil to a lady.”
The Frenchman went from looking annoyed to mildly amused. “And why, if I may inquire, do you care what happens to the lady or her wares?”
Arthur drew himself up to his full height, trying his level best to remember that he was a gentleman and not to pummel the smirk from the man’s sallow face. “I care, because she is my wife.”
Chapter 2
Serena had thought for one moment that she was dreaming when she saw her old friend Arthur sitting in the middle of the Unicorn, drinking a pint. Now that she heard him declare her to be his wife, she knew that, instead, she had lost the last of her wandering wits.
She realized that she could not let this farce go any further. She had dragged Arthur deep enough into her troubles. Though his father and hers had been as close as brothers, she could not stand on an old family acquaintance and leave Arthur, a peer of the realm, telling lies for her sake.
She ignored Arthur’s silent order, and stood at last.
“Monsieur Galliard,” she said at last, hoping that diplomacy would fail where stealth and intrigue had not. “I am sure we can come to an accommodation.”
She was even in that moment calculating how much of her inheritance she might sell off in order to bribe this man to leave her in peace, when Arthur Farleigh, her childhood friend, glared at her, sending an odd, illicit shiver down her spine. She had forgotten how clear the blue of his eyes were, and had also forgotten how they snapped like cerulean flame when he was angry.
“There will be no accommodation,” Arthur said, turning back to the Frenchman, and to the matter at hand. “If you do not leave at once, I will consider that you wish to offer insult. In such a case, my second will call on you before the sun has set.”
Galliard stood and stared at Arthur, clearly trying to decide if the man was in earnest, or simply bluffing. Had anyone else been defending her, Serena would have known that he was simply being gallant, and perhaps showing off. But it was not just any man who defended her. It was Arthur Farleigh. He meant what he said.
Galliard was not a gentleman. He was not even an archeologist, as her father had been, as she still was. He was simply a middle man, intent on stealing her father’s findings in order to sell them to the highest bidder. Galliard cared nothing for art, and less for history. He cared only that he made a profit. This informed self-interest carried the day, as Serena knew it would.
“Monsieur,” Galliard said with a slight bow from the neck. “I do apologize if I have given offense. Your wife …” The Frenchman caressed the word with contempt, as he knew very well that she was as unmarried as the day she was born. “Must accept my apology as well. I will leave you to your bread and…” More contempt was heaped on the table. “Small beer.”
He tipped his hat to Serena, and she saw in the glint of his hazel eyes that he was mocking her. “Good day, Miss. Until we meet again.”
“We will not meet again,” Arthur said, stepping forward so that Serena was effectively blocked from the other man’s sight. “Good
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