‘Judas,’ I muttered.
Half-turning to me, Lord Dalgliesh lifted an eyebrow. ‘Hardly. That’s gold, not silver.’
Mabel, the traitor, made a deep curtsy and hurried towards the door. Just before she stepped outside, I spoke.
‘Mabel?’
She stopped in the doorway. ‘Yes?’
‘What I told you…’
‘Yes?’
‘It was a lie.’ I fixed her with my coldest imitation-Ambrose stare. ‘His bite is worse than his bark. Far, far worse.’
Hurriedly, she swept out of the room. But just before she did, I could see a flash of fear spark in her eyes.
Good! She should be afraid. She should be terrified.
Because at least then I won’t be the only one.
Slowly, Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh turned towards me and gave me his most brilliant, charming, shiny smile. It didn’t make me feel any better. Apart from me, there was only one other person in his room: Thomas Brewer, his ‘footman’, who was standing at the door in a pose that looked suspiciously soldierly. No one else was in sight. Not a soul could help me. My hands tensed, curling into fists around the edges of the cot I was sitting on.
‘Well, Miss Linton…let’s have a little chat, shall we?’
‘I have a better idea,’ I told him, while my eyes flicked around the bare, rough wooden room, searching for a way to escape. One door - blocked. One window - but too small to fit through. Damn! ‘Let’s let me go, shall we?’
‘Ha! You’re quite amusing. I begin to see why Mr Ambrose keeps you around.’ In a flash, he was in front of me, gripping my chin between two long, aristocratic fingers. His steel-blue eyes bored into mine. ‘Listen here, Miss Linton. I took you, I have you, and I can do anything I want with you. You had better get used to that fact. And as long as you are in my power, you had better not do or say anything to displease me or the consequences will be…grave. Do we understand each other?’
Ah. He was one of those men. He enjoyed this.
‘Yes.’ I met his gaze head-on. ‘I understand perfectly.’
‘Very well.’ Letting go, Lord Dalgliesh turned away and marched to the window. It was covered by a few hastily sewn-together hides nailed to the wall. Whatever this place was, Buckingham Palace it was not. Lifting the hides a few inches, Lord Dalgliesh peered outside.
‘Good,’ he murmured. ‘The snow is falling fast. By the time that fool Ambrose notices she’s gone, our tracks will long be covered. You laid a false trail, like I ordered, Brewer?’
The footman nodded. ‘Yes, My Lord.’
‘And Whittock? Has he left the message?’
‘Yes, My Lord.’
‘Very good. Very good indeed.’
Message? I felt a cold fist clamp down around my heart. There was only man they would have left a message for.
‘What do you want with Mr Ambrose?’ I demanded, sitting up straight and glaring at Dalgliesh’s back.
Letting go of the window’s leather covering, he turned to face me. ‘Will you look at that? Our resident damsel has brains between her ears. I wonder…does she have enough to answer her own question, the answer to which, I must admit, should be rather obvious?’
Suppressing my intense desire to slap him across the face, I cocked my head. They had sent a message to Mr Ambrose, after kidnapping me. He was right. It was rather obvious.
‘You plan to blackmail him.’
‘Blackmail is such an ugly word,’ he said, waving a hand. But then a smile spread over his face that sent a shiver down my back. ‘On the other hand, I like ugly words. Particularly when applied to my enemies.’
I did my best to laugh haughtily. ‘It won’t work! Blackmail Mr Rikkard Ambrose? It’s impossible! He doesn’t care about anything or anyone, pounds sterling excepted.’