Aunt Charlotte, by contrast, was aghast. “Why in heaven would he tell people that? He wasn’t some sort of villain, was he?”

“The worst sort, Mrs. Bainbridge. Monsieur Giraud was a sharper.”

Aunt Charlotte’s wineglass froze halfway to her lips. “A what?”

“A professional gambler,” Laura said.

Mr. Archer looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time since they’d sat down to eat. There was a roguish glint in his gray eyes. It provoked a rather disconcerting frisson of warmth in her belly. “Precisely. He’d been driven out of France five years before, when the police shut down the public gaming houses in ’37.”

“Let me guess,” Teddy said. “He took on a new identity so that he could return. A well-to-do traveler—”

“With a son,” Mr. Archer finished for him. “That’s right.”

“But why?” Laura couldn’t help asking. “For what purpose? If the gaming houses were closed—”

“Only the public gaming establishments were shut down, Miss Hayes. There were still plenty of private ones in operation. They did a steady business. A fellow like Giraud could make a great deal of money before the proprietors caught on.”

“Weren’t you afraid you’d be arrested?” Teddy asked.

Mr. Archer finished the remainder of his wine in one swallow. “I was thirteen. Evading the Sûreté was part of the fun.”

“My word,” Aunt Charlotte breathed. “What a thrilling life you’ve led, sir. It’s like something out of one of Mr. Dickens’s novels. I wonder that Baron Reynard permitted you to set out so young.”

“There are boys younger than thirteen in Her Majesty’s Navy,” Mr. Archer said.

“Not gentlemen’s sons, surely.”

Mr. Archer’s smile tightened. “No, indeed, ma’am.”

Teddy chose that moment to discreetly drop a scrap of meat under the table. There was a rustling sound as Magpie retrieved the morsel.

Laura shot her brother a warning glance.

“What?” he mouthed, all innocence.

Mr. Archer gave no indication that he noticed the exchange, or the cat begging under the table, but when Laura next looked in his direction, she could have sworn she saw a flash of laughter in his eyes.

“Your godfather must be a singular fellow,” Aunt Charlotte said. “I daresay he was relieved when you returned home unscathed. A boy of thirteen hasn’t the judgment to be traveling alone on the continent.”

“He wasn’t entirely alone, Aunt,” Teddy said. “He was with a notorious gambler. That’s rather like”—he waved his fork—“traveling about Greece and Italy with one’s classics tutor.”

Aunt Charlotte protested the characterization, but Teddy only laughed.