Lily struggled in vain. His breath tasted shockingly of stale cigars and wine laced with a hint of garlic. She felt sick and faint and more frightened than she had ever been in her whole life. ‘Papa!’ Armand’s shocked tone brought about Lily’s sudden release. Monsieur Labrosse thrust her away from him, turning his back on her to face his son. ‘Armand, what are you doing? You should be resting.’ Lily slipped past Monsieur Labrosse with a stifled cry of sheer relief. She ran to Armand and was instantly more concerned for his wellbeing than for herself. ‘You must not put weight on that injured ankle, Armand. Please sit down.’ He shook his head. ‘I am all right, but what about you? Did he hurt you?’ Monsieur Labrosse muttered something beneath his breath as he pushed past his son. ‘You know me better than that, I think. She is no more than a foolish child.’ ‘Where are you going, Papa?’ Armand demanded angrily. ‘I think Mademoiselle Lily deserves an apology.’ Monsieur Labrosse came to a halt in front of Lily, glaring down at her.
