Cold panic drenched her. She started to hit out. The next instant, she knew. She knew the size and shape and the brusque sureness before she had a good look at him. It was the Captain. She’d never been gladder to see anybody. He put himself between her and all that mad rage. He stood between her and the vitriol dribbling through those thick, blistered lips. “. . . sodding bitch . . .” “Out.” The Captain cut through curses like a knife. He knocked aside the fist aimed at her, grabbed the upraised arm, and twisted it backwards. “Out of my house.” The table shuddered as men knocked against it. Plates and bowls crashed. A howl trumpeted from the drunk as Sebastian’s knee connected with his groin. He bent over, gasping and bleating. The Captain gripped the man by his leather coat and spun him around and sent him stumbling out the kitchen door. He fell, sprawled on the sharp corners of the entryway steps. A last housemaid, ducking and bobbing in the shelter of the pantry, shrieked like a whistle.
