‘Y-you do?’ Sir Philip looked from me to Mr Ambrose and back again. So did Ella, who was suddenly completely awake again. There was a pause.
‘Where from?’ Wilkins inquired added in a tone of undisguised curiosity and scepticism. As if I didn’t exist on the same level as His Mightiness Mr Rikkard Ambrose!
Well, I didn’t, monetarily speaking, but still. It was pretty cheeky coming from a chap who went about London bombarding innocent young ladies with flowers!
‘We bumped into one another in the street,’ Mr Ambrose explained, still not taking his eyes off me. His gaze wasn’t just dark and intense, there was something else in it. A promise…
The promise of retribution. That’s what’s in his eyes - a threat! Is he afraid I’d give him away? Shame him in front of London society by revealing I worked for him? Yes, blast him, that’s it!
Well, he’d just have to learn that I could keep my mouth shut!
And he’s supposed to dance with me, is he? To hold me lovingly in his arms and sweep me over the polished floor in a passionate whirl?
To judge by the arctic look on his face, it was obvious that nothing was further from his mind, so I did him a favour. Not acknowledging his presence in any way, not even nodding to him, I rudely turned my head away. Soon enough, the crow in her green dress would probably appear and whisk him off.
There was a heavy silence. No footsteps. He did not move away. He was not whisked off. Blast him, why didn’t he leave already? My rudeness was giving him the perfect excuse!
‘Well, Miss Linton?’
Miss! He called you Miss! He admitted you’re female!
Well, it was rather hard to ignore, considering the ball gown I was wearing. Still, that little admission tugged at my heart - and my head. Reluctantly, I turned it towards him.
‘Well what?’ The retort was abominably rude, but that was all right since it came from me.
Those dark, sea-coloured eyes of his were still fixed on my face. I made the mistake of looking into them and was caught. Blast!
He held out his hand for me to take. ‘Miss Lillian Linton, will you do me the honour of dancing with me?’
My mouth fell open slightly. Was he joking? But then I remembered who this was. No, he wasn’t joking. Dear Lord in heaven, how was I going to get out of this?
And then something utterly incredible happened - something more horrible than the Napoleonic Wars and the Black Plague put together.
‘Yes, thank you,’ I heard myself say in a shy, breathy voice.
What? What the heck was the matter with my vocal cords? How could they betray me like this? It wasn’t fair!
A hand closed around mine. It was both lithe and muscular, and the grip it exerted was a little too hard for someone asking you for a dance.
For a dance! Argh, no! Not with him!
There was a slight tug on my hand. Not harsh, but insistent. Dazed, I started to move and followed Mr Rikkard Ambrose as he led me onto the dance floor. In my stunned state, I still noticed he moved very differently from Lord Dalgliesh: not like a born dancer, but with a harsh, precise force that went beyond dancing. They were the movements of a born fighter. It almost felt like marching beside an elite soldier on a victory parade.
No! Don’t let this happen! Flee, you fool, before doom is upon you!
My insides were writhing in panic. But before I could turn and run, before I could do anything, we suddenly were in position on the dance floor, and I felt arms around me. Mr Ambrose’s arms.
Blast! Why do they have to feel so hard and firm and… right? It’s not right!
My heartbeat picked up, and I hardly dared to look up. I felt like an elephant who had been ordered to dance with the ringmaster. Would I squash his feet? Would I fall over? And what would happen when this madness was over and we returned to our normal routine of work, if that ever happened?
The music began. The four-four time lent itself to Mr Ambrose’s way of moving. He went towards and away from me as the music required, grasped me when the music demanded, and let go when the music said so. Not once did he look at me or speak to me.
We turned. And turned again. And again. And again.
Blast, this is maddening! Isn’t he going to say anything at all?
Apparently not. Nobody could be silent like Mr Ambrose. Not even a grave, or a whole graveyard for that matter, could compete with him. And as for looking at me, he didn’t seem to have any intention of doing that either. Oh no. He was staring fixedly at something in the distance. When we turned again, in time with the music, I saw where his gaze led.
Of course. Her! He is looking at her!
The crow was standing near a window in the east wall, an infuriating smile on her face, chatting with Lord Dalgliesh, who stood right beside her. Rage, mixed with an infuriating curiosity, rose up in me.
Who the devil is she? The writer of the pink letters?
The possibility gripped my heart like a claw of ice. And Mr Ambrose still wasn’t saying a single word! God, the silence was killing me! Somebody would have to say something. And if it wasn’t going to be him, it would have to be me.
‘I thought you didn’t like social functions,’ I blurted out.
There was a momentary pause.
‘I don't,’ came his curt reply, finally. Still he was staring into the same darn direction. ‘But this one was special. I had to come. I needed to spend some time with an old acquaintance whom I had not seen for some time.’
I sniffed. ‘So you’ve known the lady long?’
Is it she? Is it she who wrote you those letters? What did she say? What does she mean to him? And why the heck are you asking yourself that question?
‘The lady?’ His voice was absent and a little confused. He didn’t seem to be paying any attention to me at all. Gritting my teeth, I nodded in her direction.
‘What? Oh, Miss Hamilton?’
Hamilton. So finally, I had a name to put to the evil temptress! I relaxed infinitesimally as I realized that her name was not that of the writer of the pink letters. However, that relaxation vanished the instant I saw again the way he looked at the crow beside Lord Dalgliesh: so intently you might have thought there existed nothing else in the world for him but her.
‘Yes,’ I nodded. ‘Miss Hamilton. You’ve known her long?’
He actually deigned to glance down at me then. If his face hadn’t been carved from stone, I was sure there would have been a frown on it. His eyes narrowed a fraction. ‘No. Whatever gave you that idea? I’ve only known her for a couple of days.’
Why the heck did you call her an old acquaintance then?
‘Well, she must have made quite an impression on you.’ Considering you came out of your fortress for her sake and subjected yourself to the nameless horrors of a ball.
He shrugged and looked away from me again, resuming his staring.
‘So,’ I continued doggedly, ‘I assume you’ll see more of her in the future, attend more balls than before, now that the situation has changed?’
His left little finger twitched. I had noticed this was his way of demonstrating extreme annoyance - the way someone else might scowl or curse at you. ‘Hmm. I suppose. It will be unavoidable for what I have in mind.’
Oh yes, I’m sure it’s very inconvenient to one as mighty as yourself that you can’t just order a woman to marry you. You actually have to spend time with her first! How terrible!
Really, I should be feeling pity for this poor creature who would fall into the trap of marrying this man. A great deal of pity.
So why the bloody hell did I feel so angry instead?
He looked down at me sharply, the first time during the dance he had given me his full, undivided attention.
‘How do you know I will be spending more time at social events?’ His finger twitched again. ‘You cannot have… No, you simply cannot have guessed my plans!’
Oh dear. He was just as self-centred as all other men. He couldn’t hope to rival a woman’s intuition.
&n
bsp; ‘Actually, I think I have,’ I said as sweetly as possible.
He looked up again, staring at Miss Hamilton and Lord Dalgliesh, who were still engaged in conversation.
‘I must say I’m surprised, Miss Linton. I didn’t think you would figure it out so quickly. In fact, I didn’t think anybody could figure it out on their own.’
I had to work hard to conceal a snort.
Please! With your staring at her the entire time? What sort of silly guffin do you take me for?
‘I think it is pretty obvious,’ I retorted, my tone not a bit sarcastic. Honest, maybe, but not a bit sarcastic,
‘Indeed? Well, if I were you, Miss Linton, I’d keep what you know to yourself. If it comes out that you know, you will be in terrible danger. You might end up with a knife between your ribs.’
My eyebrows shot up. ‘That’s going a bit far, don't you think?’ A derisive snort escaped me. ‘She can’t be that jealous.’
‘She?’ Abruptly, he stopped turning. The neighbouring couples almost crashed into us, and only because I stirred him into motion again was a collision avoided. ‘She? What are you talking about, Miss Linton?’
‘Your…’ I swallowed. For some reason it was hard to say out loud. Avoiding his eyes helped, so I looked down. ‘Your romantic interest in Miss Hamilton, of course.’ A frown crept onto my face. ‘What were you talking about?’
He didn’t answer me at first. Looking up, I saw that his beautiful statue’s face was even more emotionless than usual. Whereas normally it just looked stony, now it looked completely vacant. He looked as if he was readjusting the gears of his brain.
‘Well…’ He cleared his throat. ‘I was talking of my interest in Miss Hamilton, of course. You’re right. I am very romantically interested. Indeed you could say, pining with love for her. That would be a very accurate description of the situation.’
‘I see,’ I mumbled, looking down again, so I didn’t have to look at his chiselled face anymore. For some reason my eyes started stinging. ‘What was it that caught your fancy? Her figure? Her eyes?’
‘Her eyes. And her figure, too. And her dress, her manners, and her… well, she does not have anything more to catch fancies with, but all that she does have is very fancy-catching. You could say that I have passionately fallen in love with the entirety of her, not just the individual components.’
‘But you like her eyes.’
‘Yes, indeed.’
‘What is so special about them?’ I demanded to know, still not daring to look up. I had a suspicion why my eyes were stinging, and if it was correct I wanted nothing less than for him to see my face right now. ‘I saw nothing extraordinary about them!’
He cleared his throat again. ‘Well… they look very… very ocular, for one thing.’
‘What is that supposed to mean?’
‘Pardon?’
‘This word, “ocular”. What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It is Latin. It is a word denoting everything that refers to eyes.’
‘So… what you’re in fact saying is that what’s special about her eyes is that they look very much like eyes.’
Now I simply had to stare up at him suspiciously. He wouldn’t see my face anyway. He would still be staring at her.
I was right. He was. His gaze was still firmly fixed on the lady and Lord Dalgliesh.
‘Her nose is very lovely, too,’ he added, sounding more like a salesman at the London market praising a fish of whose freshness he wasn’t convinced than like a passionate lover. Maybe he always sounded like that when he was in love. If so, God have mercy on any poor creature who ever developed real, deep feelings for him! Not that something like that was ever likely to happen.
‘Does it, Sir?’
‘Yes, indeed, her nose has many excellent features. It is straight, not overly long or crooked like those of some other ladies in the ballroom; it has two holes at the bottom, and there is no hair growing out of them. Her teeth are adequate, too - none missing or falling out. I checked. You should always check the teeth first.’
‘I believe that’s when you’re buying a horse, not when you’re looking for a prospective bride,’ I pointed out.
‘Indeed? Well, it certainly cannot hurt to check. In any case, what all this boils down to is that I am in love with Miss Hamilton. Passionately in love.’
‘Yes.’ I bit my lip. ‘You already mentioned that.’
‘And that’s the only reason I came to this ball. To spend time with the woman I am passionately in love with. There was no other motivation.’
Still he wouldn’t even look at me. His words were like sharp pinpricks. I knew they shouldn’t hurt, but they did. With all my might, I avoided looking up into his dark, sea-coloured eyes, staring at the floor instead.
‘Yes, Sir. I understand.’
The dance ended just at that moment, and I had never been so happy about the end of a dance in my life. For once I had no desire to hound him about the contents of the file, or demand equal treatment with men, or do anything else. All I wanted was to be far away from him.
I am in love with Miss Hamilton. Passionately in love.
His words echoed in my head again and again, refusing to leave me alone. The moment he released me from his grip, I stepped back, not wanting him to touch or hold me any longer. I just managed a brief curtsy, then I turned and ran away through the crowd, wishing that in this ballroom there was just one quiet corner where I could hide!
Secret Plans and Politics
There’s no reason to be angry! No reason to be upset! I told myself, chewing savagely on a bar of solid chocolate I had found at one of the refreshment tables. Not in the least! It is typical male behaviour, valuing a pretty doll in a ball gown more than a girl who actually chose to go out into the world and do something with her life. And there’s no reason why that should make you angry! Not in the least!
It didn’t help. The chocolate did to some extent, soothing my nerves a bit, but I was still fuming when I reached a table with free chairs and slumped down onto the nearest one.
And do you want to know what the most infuriating part was?
I couldn’t even figure out why exactly I was so angry! I mean, it wasn’t as though I were entitled attract Mr Ambrose’s attention or even had any reason to wish it. I was his secretary, no more and no less.
It’s the inequality of the thing, I finally decided. It wouldn’t bother you at all if Miss Hamilton were a sensible female who actually worked for a living and stood up to men and their unjust laws. It is the suffragist in you that has taken a justified dislike to her, that is all.
Satisfied with my findings, and very happy about my noble disposition which wouldn’t stoop to something such as petty jealousy, I took another bite of chocolate and moaned as the piece melted in my mouth.
Ohhh…
The chap who invented this was surely the only decent man living! A true genius and benefactor to the whole world. The solid chocolate did wonders for consoling me. I sat at the table, slowly finding my calmer self again and wondering what step I should take next regarding Ella and her unwanted admirer. Maybe if I just pestered him a little more…
‘Lilly, my dear!’
I froze. The voice that had come from behind me was unmistakable. It was the chief fury of hell! Turning, I saw my aunt rush towards me. But for once, she wore no angry scowl directed at me. Instead, her arms were wide open and there might have been actual tears of joy in her eyes.
‘Come into my arms, most beloved niece of mine!’ Before I could run for the hills, she had enfolded me in her arms and was pressing me to her meagre bosom. Startled, I hugged back reflexively. What was this? Could it be that this wasn’t my aunt, but her not-so-evil twin? Or a moving wax replica? Those were the only explanations for the abnormally chummy behaviour of the being in front of me which I could come up with.
‘I saw you dancing with Lord Dalgliesh!’ she exclaimed, and suddenly everything became clear to me. This was still my aunt, as she
lived and breathed. ‘What did you talk about? Did he seem interested in you? Will you see him again? Oh, Lillian, don't just stand there saying nothing. You are always so quiet, girl! You will never get anywhere if you do not learn how to properly express yourself!’
‘We didn’t talk about important things really,’ I murmured, choosing my words with care. I was well aware that I was walking a mine-field here. ‘We just talked about, um… mutual acquaintances, that is all.’
‘Wonderful! Wonderful! You have made a great start with him. Now don't lose sight of him, do you hear me? If you can secure him… Good God! That would probably be the most eligible match in all of England!’
I waited with bated breath, wondering if she would make any remark about my dance with Mr Ambrose, too. But she was so full of my dance with Lord Dalgliesh that she apparently hadn’t even noticed what I had done once that had been over. I had to admit that after a while her profusions on the subject got a bit boring. Not that I had anything against Lord Dalgliesh - no more than against any other person in trousers on this planet - but I definitely did not entertain the thought of marrying him! Instinctively I knew that to him, I was no more than a marionette, just like all the other people in this room and all the people of his company. No more than an instrument to be directed according to his will. That was definitely not the kind of person I wanted to be linked with for the rest of my life.
My aunt was just in the middle of a hymn of praise on Lord Dalgliesh’s taste in dressing, when I had had enough. Rising, I told her with a more than convincingly faked smile:
‘Forgive me, Madam, but I think I am tired of sitting. I will look about and maybe find a pleasant partner to dance with.’
‘Oh yes, my darling, do that, do that! And let it be the right one!’
‘You mean the richest one?’
‘Finally! Finally, you understand my concerns! Oh, Lillian, that I would live to see this day…’ She seemed about to succumb to tears of happiness again. But then, with great restraint, she collected herself and waved me off. ‘Go, go! The next dance is starting, don’t miss your chance, my dear!’