Storm and Silence (Storm and Silence 1)

?I have been making enquiries into any connection of yours with a certain Rikkard Ambrose, with whom you seemed extraordinarily well acquainted at the last ball, where I had the pleasure of seeing you.’

What?

‘And lo and behold, I have not found a single shred of evidence to connect the two of you.’

Oh. Good.

‘Not a family connection, not a bank loan your family is overdue to pay back, not a previous social acquaintance, not even a romantic involvement with heartbreakingly sweet little notes secretly exchanged…’

He said all this in a perfectly conversational voice, as if there were nothing strange about digging into my family’s financial affairs or my personal life. Not if he did it.

Once again, I felt in my legs the nearly uncontrollable urge to turn and run. I fought it, and stayed where I was.

‘Interesting,’ I said, meeting his gaze as steadily as I could. ‘You know, some people might think those sorts of enquiries discourteous. Invasive, even.’

‘Might they?’ He looked royally entertained. ‘It is an amusing fact, Miss Linton, but in my whole life not a single person has ever accused me of discourteous or ungentlemanly behaviour.’ He smiled again, spreading his hands. ‘Not a single one. On the contrary, everybody always assures me how considerate and polite I am. Sometimes, they assure me three or four times in a row.’

He took a step closer to me.

Without moving my head, my gaze darted from side to side. I discovered that we were pretty much alone in our own private little corner of the ballroom. Indeed, if I was not very much mistaken, there seemed to be a literal wall of people who had their backs to us, separating us from the rest of the crowd. None of them appeared to show the slightest bit of interest in our conversation, although they were perfectly within hearing distance. They stood at attention, and several of them were in uniform. The uniform of the Indian Army - the strong arm of the East India Company.

Suddenly, I found myself wishing Captain Carter had not left my side.

‘You could not see your way to tell me what connection exists between you and Mr Ambrose?’ Lord Dalgliesh’s voice was deceptively soft. ‘I would really like to know.’

‘I told you before,’ I said, finding it increasingly difficult to meet those blue eyes that bored into me like drills. ‘There is no connection.’

‘Such a pity, such a pity.’ He sighed, and smiled regretfully. ‘Do you remember, Miss Linton, that I told you I always get what I want?’

Without sign or command, the men who separated us from the rest of the ballroom and who, until now, had been standing with their backs to us, turned and stepped closer, surrounding us, surrounding me, cutting off any way of escape.

Escape? Why would I want to escape? We were at a ball, for heaven’s sake - a public festivity, hosted by one of London’s most prominent noblewomen! He couldn’t do anything to me here, surely, could he? And besides, he didn’t even look as if he wanted to do anything to me. His smile was so friendly, so charming, he looked as if he desired nothing but good for the entire world.

With every step the soldiers took towards me, I felt less sure of that.

‘Would you like to accompany me on a little stroll?’ he suggested, brightly. ‘I’ve heard Lady Metcalf’s garden is truly beautiful at night.’

What should I do? Scream for help? But help with what? He hadn’t done or said anything improper. There was nothing concrete to suggest danger of any kind. And still, something inside me screamed and clawed at my innards to get me to turn and run.

‘I…’ My voice was a mere whisper. What should I do? ‘I… don't think so, Your Lordship.’

‘Are you sure?’ He looked crestfallen, then he suddenly glanced around, saw the soldiers, and his face brightened. ‘Oh! There are a few friends of mine!’ He turned to me again. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come for a stroll? I think my friends would love to accompany us. These military fellows spend so much time breathing in gunpowder fumes, they need a lot of fresh air.’

He laughed - a light, carefree laugh that expected nothing but my joyful acceptance. If anybody watching the scene saw me decline again, they would think me abominably rude. What should I do? Oh, if only some help were here, Captain Carter, or Mr Ambrose, or…

‘Excuse me? Excuse me please, gentlemen, let me through please…’

And from between the beefy soldiers of the Indian Army stepped the figure of Edmund, the piano tuner’s son. He gave the startled Lord Dalgliesh a polite smile and said: ‘You will excuse us for a moment, I’m sure? I have to tell the lady something.’

And with that, he took me by the arm, leading me a few steps away without even waiting for an answer. Lord Dalgliesh stood where he had been standing, his face back to the perfect beneficent smile that seemed to be his favourite expression. Yet, in my time with Mr Ambrose, I had learned to read minuscule changes in facial expressions. Charming as his smile was, it didn’t soften the steel in his blue eyes.

‘Miss Linton,’ Edmund began, and gave a little bow, ‘I must thank you from the bottom of my heart for your initiative in inviting me to this ball tonight. It has brought me joy beyond what I can say. I cannot adequately express my thanks, but, as a gesture, I wondered whether you would do me the honour of dancing a reel with me?’

I could have kissed him.

Not literally, of course! I mean, my little sister was in love with him, for heaven’s sake! And even if he weren’t the apple of her eye and cherry of her heart, I would never kiss him. He looked just so… kind. Harmless. Conservative. Plus, I didn’t have plans to kiss any man, of whatever sort, ever.

But figuratively speaking, I planted a big buss on his forehead.