‘Yes?’
‘We’re going to make Dalgliesh pay.’
Strong, smooth lips brushed against my cheek. It was pitch-black and I couldn’t see a thing, but I thought I felt those lips curve into the tiniest smile against my skin.
‘That sounds…acceptable.’
*~*~**~*~*
Next morning at breakfast, the threat from Lord Dalgliesh somehow seemed like nothing but a dark and distant dream. His Lordship was absent from the table. In fact, quite a lot of people, including Mr Ambrose’s father and some of the guests, did not see fit to grace us with their presence that morning. It was just Mr Ambrose, his mother, his sister, me, and a few of the hyenas. And I didn’t mind their presence as much as usual.
Why, you ask?
Well…
‘A sheep’s what?’ Mr Ambrose slowly turned his head to direct his icy gaze at Lady Caroline and the dish she was holding out to him. ‘Pardon, My Lady, what did you say?’
‘Would you like a sheep’s trotter, Mr Ambrose?’ She pointed to the dish and gave an encouraging smile. ‘I had them brought especially from Newcastle.’
Mr Ambrose’s eyes glittered with ice. ‘You don’t say.’
‘Yes. And they’re so tasty…’ Taking one of the sheep’s feet, Lady Caroline raised it to her delicate lips and nibbled on it - then coughed and hurriedly reached for a handkerchief. I had to dive behind a vase of flowers to hide the expression on my face.
‘Since they are such a delicacy,’ Mr Ambrose told her, his face a mask of stone, ‘I would hate to deprive you of them.’ He shifted the plate towards her. ‘Bon appétit.’
I ducked behind the vase again, stifling helpless giggles.
After that episode, I was almost in something resembling a good mood. Karim was getting a well-deserved day’s rest after a long night of door-guarding, so Mr Ambrose, one of ‘his’ maids and I retired to a sitting room on the second floor that had only one entrance - just about the securest location that was available. We sat there, not speaking, not doing much of anything, really, just sitting there and being there for each other. Which, for Mr Ambrose, truly was something special. When had he last taken the time to quietly sit down with someone, doing nothing?
Probably not for over a decade.
Downstairs, the busy Christmas preparations continued. I could hear bells jingling, and Adaira yelling orders with a voice any sergeant major would have been proud of. It almost left one feeling…merry.
‘Sir?’
I glanced up before I remembered that, due to my current lack of trousers, I was probably not the one being addressed. Drat! With all this clothes-changing, I was starting to lose track of who I was currently supposed to be.
‘Yes?’ Raising his gaze, Mr Ambrose turned to the servant who was standing in the doorway. The young man bowed.
‘Your mother was wondering where you are, Sir. She asked me to fe- um, to enquire whether you could spare her a few moments.’
There was a moment of silence. Mr Ambrose glanced at me.
‘Go!’ Smiling, I waved him away. ‘I’ll be perfectly safe! Mabel - it is Mabel, right?’
‘Yes, Miss,’ the housemaid murmured.
‘Mabel is going to keep me company. If anything happens, I’ll scream the house down.’
Mr Ambrose’s left little finger twitched. ‘It’s a large house.’
‘And I’m good at screaming, as you should know from experience. Go!’
For another long moment, he hesitated - and then rose to his feet. ‘I shall be only a minute. In the meantime…’ He fixed a look on the housemaid that made the poor girl quiver. ‘You are personally responsible for Miss Linton’s safety. If anything happens to her in my absence, you will have me to answer to.’
The girl jumped to her feet as if stung by a swarm of bees and hurried to take up position behind me. All she was missing was a red uniform and a big pelt hat, and she would not have been out of place in front of Buckingham Palace.
With a last cold look at the maid, Mr Ambrose marched out of the room. The door closed behind him with a click. Shaking my head, I picked up the book I had been reading and smiled to myself. ‘Don’t worry about him.’