‘I said maybe!’ I called after him as he strode off with his friends. But he didn’t turn around again. He just walked away, a spring in his step.
Shaking my head, I turned away. How likely was it that we would ever meet or dance again? After all, now that his friend had dropped Ella like an Irish peasant would a hot potato, Sir Philip would likely cut off all acquaintance with us. It would simply be too awkward to spend time in his company. Surely, most of his friends would follow his example and shun us. I wasn’t likely to see Captain Carter again. Well, good riddance. The less men there were in my life, the better.
Even if they do happen to be quite nice, in a crazy way.
I turned once more to watch Ella. It was clear that she didn’t feel the same as I. She lay in Edmund’s arms as though there was no place on earth she would rather be. The smile on her face could only be described as radiant. It was shining brighter than any of the chandeliers that hung from the ceiling and illuminated the ballroom.
Sighing contentedly, I retreated to a quiet corner of the ballroom, from where I could watch them quietly. It was joy to see Ella’s joy, a balm for my soul that had been tortured for her sake over the last few weeks. How wonderful and simple the world suddenly seemed. All right, my working life still left a lot to be desired, an unlocked office door for instance, but as regards affairs at home, things were looking up, and I was feeling pretty chuffed as a result.
Everything had worked out to perfection. Ella was happy, I was happy, and even Edmund was, though this wasn’t exactly on my list of priorities. Wonders had been worked within a few hours. All the perceived dangers and difficulties I had foreseen for the near future had dissolved into nothing tonight. I was sure that tonight, nothing could go wrong anymore. Absolutely nothing.
And then I heard his voice behind me.
A voice that sounded very familiar, although I had heard it only twice before… A cultured, voice. A voice of knowledge, power, and maybe… darker things.
‘Ah, Miss Linton. I was wondering if you would be of the party when I saw Sir Phillip’s name on the guest list. How marvellous…’
And I remembered Lady Metcalf telling us as we arrived: Important people from all over England have come, gentry, military, knights of the Order of the Garter… even one of the Peers of the Realm has been kind enough to accept my invitation.
Slowly, I turned, and was met by the penetrating, steel-blue gaze of Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh.
‘I have been wanting to meet you again,’ he said, and smiled. ‘How fortunate that I always seem to get what I want.’
Behind the Mask
No, I told myself, You cannot run away. You cannot run from him, or he will know that you know. And then you will be dead.
But… was this really true? I could hardly believe that this suave nobleman, member of the House of Lords and uncrowned king of Britain’s largest imperial enterprise, was supposed to be involved in dealings so far beyond the law that they had lapped it and kicked it in the derrière while it was concentrating on catching up. The man owned his own subcontinent, for heaven’s sake!
Yes, but the question is: how did he get it? If it’s by similar methods as Caesar or Napoleon… Well, they hadn’t been squeamish, either.
‘Lord Dalgliesh. How nice to see you again.’ I forced my legs to stay where they were and to bend into a curtsy.
Remember the alley in the East End! Remember the attackers! It was this man who sent them.
But it was hard to remember. Lord Dalgliesh, in his exquisite black tailcoat and blue satin waistcoat, looked as if he had never so much as heard of a place like the East End, let alone paid a visit to some of its occupants.
He wouldn’t have to. He could pay somebody else to pay somebody else to pay somebody else to pay somebody to do it.
‘Indeed it is, Miss Linton.’ Taking my hand, he lifted it to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss on the back of it. My reaction now was very different from when Sir Philip had done the same. A shiver went down my back, and my cheeks warmed. Thank the Lord my cheeks weren’t fashionably pale. With luck, it wouldn’t show.
Think of the alley! I told myself again. Think of the blood!
I tried. I honestly tried. But with images of the alley also came images of what had come after: the ride back, the office, Mr Ambrose, the kiss…
Had I thought my cheeks warm before? It was nothing to the explosion they suffered now. Yet if Lord Dalgliesh saw it, he probably couldn’t deduce the reason.
Hopefully. Some part of me, though, was feeling as though it was written all over my face.
‘Do you know, Miss Linton, why I have been desirous of renewing our acquaintance?’ he enquired.
I swallowed, hoping the reason didn’t have anything to do with knives, guns, or locked cells.
‘N-no.’
Blast! Why was it that I couldn’t keep my voice steady just when I needed to?
?