‘But I told you I had nothing to say!’
‘Yes, and you did it spectacularly. They were the best non-words ever not said.’
‘You are not making any sense, Miss Linton.’
One corner of my mouth twitched again. ‘It’s not supposed to make sense. It’s supposed to make you feel.’
Suddenly sitting up straighter, he gave a derisive snort. ‘You want to know what I feel? I feel exceedingly aggravated. I have been forced to remain idle, lying in this infernal bed and simply wasting time by doing nothing, for the better part of the last two days. I could have been back to London by now, back to my business. I do not even want to think of the losses I incurred due to this inexcusable procrastination.’
Mr Ambrose lying down doing nothing? That didn’t sound like the semi-human machine I knew.
‘Why didn’t you simply get up and leave if you felt like it?’
His eyes turned a shake darker. ‘Because the wretched female who owns this establishment went behind my back and secured the services of a doctor. This medical gentleman told me that, apparently, wasting time by lying in a bed is an essential element in my convalescence.’
Doubtfully, I looked at his figure, lying as stiffly on the sheets as if the bed were a board with nails jutting out of it.
‘I think when the doctor said you should stay abed, he meant stay abed and relax.’
‘I cannot relax. I do not like beds.’
Idle banter. Are you truly making idle banter with Mr Do-Not-Waste-Time Ambrose, Lilly? Well, well. Miracles do happen.
‘Oh really? You don’t like beds? Then where do you sleep?’
Derisively, he looked down at the object he was lying on. ‘On a bed. Cannot stand it. Get out of it as quickly as I can every morning. Wouldn’t waste my time with it if I didn’t have to.’
I hid my smirk behind my hand. ‘Why do you have to? After all, if sleeping is such a waste of time, why not go without it?’
A muscle in his face twitched. If Mr Ambrose had been someone else, he would have scowled. ‘I can’t.’
He looked very displeased with the fact.
‘Why not… Oh, blimey! Don’t tell me you’ve tried!’
‘Once. After four very productive days and nights without any sleep, I collapsed at one of my factories and nearly fell into a vat of boiling wax.’[3]
I shook my head. ‘Such a shame you missed. You’d have made a charming addition to Madame Tussaud’s.’
Judging from the look he gave me, Mr Rikkard Ambrose didn’t appreciate sarcasm.
‘This is not a joking matter, Miss Linton. Neither is my having to stay in this infernal bed! This place is as close to hell on earth as one can get. Besides the inactivity gnawing at my sanity, there’s the mother, who keeps forcing a most disgusting hot broth down my throat. And she is nothing compared to the daughter. I believe that young female is not quite right in the head. She keeps asking me if “we” are feeling well - although it is perfectly evident that, besides her, I am the only person in the room. And she keeps making these strange, disturbing faces at me.’
I cleared my throat. ‘I believe she’s smiling at you.’
‘Whatever for?’
‘She likes you.’
He gave a sharp, derisive snort. ‘Hardly. If the female had any positive feelings towards me, she would let me get up and leave, not keep me here and insist on my wasting time sleeping.’
Uncertainly, my eyes wandered to the bandage on his leg. I wanted nothing more than to have him out of this house and out of Miss Fotheringay’s claws, but…
‘Are you sure you should leave yet? Your leg-’
‘Is of no significance. Now that you are here, I am determined to leave this place at the earliest possible moment.’
‘But…’