Storm and Silence (Storm and Silence 1)

His clothes, admittedly, were posh enough: he was impeccably dressed in a black tail coat, black trousers, white shirt and, best of all, a brilliantly colourful waistcoat showing off an elaborate pattern of red and green brocade with golden embroidery. But… you know that saying, the one about the clothes making the man? Whoever came up with that saying hadn’t seen this man, or his ears or nose.

Still, in his fine clothes he looked much richer than Mr Rikkard Ambrose with his simple black attire.

And why the blazes was I suddenly thinking of him?

I shook my head, trying to shake off the unwanted image of a familiar cold face in my mind, as the young man came towards us and bowed.

‘Mrs Brank? I am Sir Philip Wilkins. Please allow me to welcome you and your lovely nieces to my humble home.’

‘You are so kind, Sir Philip,’ simpered my aunt. I wouldn’t have thought she had that much honey in her pantry, let alone on her tongue. ‘I must say you have a truly charming house, and such attentive staff.’

‘I only have the best of everything,’ he replied, his gaze wandering dreamily over Anne and Maria. I had a sudden desire to find a bucket to be sick in.

‘That I can believe,’ my aunt told him, her normally steely voice still coated in sugar.

‘But… I do not see Mr Brank here, Madam. Is something the matter?’

Over the aunt’s face passed a cloud of sadness that was so convincing it almost fooled even me. ‘Ah, yes. Mr Brank regrets so very much that he could not attend, but he has been taken by a sudden illness and his doctor said he was not well enough to leave the house. I am to convey his sincerest apologies to you, Sir Philip.’

Sir Philip’s ears drooped. ‘Oh, I am grieved to hear about his condition. Please convey my wishes for his immediate recovery.’

Dear me. If they weren’t finished soon I’d be smothered by an excess of good manners.

Well, time to start ignoring them and survey the battlefield for the evening…

The large ballroom was even more extravagantly decorated than the waistcoat of its owner. The floor was polished dark wood, the walls a maze of gilded floral patterns. Large windows reflected the light of the enormous sparkly chandeliers, which hung from a ceiling painted with chubby little naked boys with wings on. I supposed they were cherubs - the boys, not the chandeliers.

And the people. Oh the people. They were everywhere. At least a three hundred of them filled the vast room, conversing, bowing and curtsying to one another. And at least a hundred and fifty of them were men. One, sweet, single little me against one hundred and fifty! Now were those supposed to be fair odds?

Suspiciously I eyed the masculine beasts and wondered which of those my aunt would try to marry me off to. None of them looked particularly nice. Especially compared to somebody very nice-looking I had met recently and was determined not to think of again tonight.

Darn! I had done it again! But how was I supposed to think about not thinking about him without thinking about him?

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‘…and this lovely lady?’ The voice directly in front of me pulled me from my thoughts. Sir Philip was standing before me, smiling his uncertain smile.

I opened my mouth to speak. ‘I am-’

‘That is my niece Lillian, Sir Philip,’ my aunt interrupted me hastily and gave me her best don’t-you-say-another-word-if-you-want-to-live-stare. Bugger! I had forgotten again. Introduction. You couldn’t just speak to someone you didn’t know, you had to be introduced first.

‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Linton.’ Sir Philip bowed, took my fingers and before I could do anything to prevent it, planted a soft, moist kiss on the back of my hand.

Eww!

I tried to wipe my hand unobtrusively on my dress while Sir Philip went on to Ella.

‘And who is this lovely lady?’ he asked. It seemed to be his standard sentence when seeing any previously unknown female. But then, as he took in Ella’s delicate face, demure smile and fair skin, his behaviour abruptly deviated from the norm and his face was suffused by a deep blush.

‘My niece Ella, Sir Phillip,’ said my aunt, while Anne and Maria were competing in an ocular archery match, shooting venomous glances at Ella.

He took her hand, too, and placed a kiss on in. ‘Delighted to make your acquaintance,’ he said, and it sounded like this time he really meant it. His eyes, as he looked at Ella, appeared slightly misty as if someone had hit him on the head with a wooden club. Why was he staring at her like that?

Oh no… not that. Not he of all people…

Ella, much too intimidated by the fact that she was being spoken to by a member of the male population to actually say anything in reply, just curtsied in silence, looking up at the knight as if he were a lion that might eat her any minute. She didn’t notice his dreamy gaze. But I had. Oh yes, I had.

Sir Philip bowed to and greeted the rest of us. As soon as he was finished with Gertrude, though, he returned to stand beside my aunt, which coincidentally was also next to where Ella was standing. Anne and Maria, who, for two pretty young ladies, remarkably resembled gorgons[19] at that moment, moved closer.