Silence Is Golden (Storm and Silence 3)

‘Miss Linton! I cannot suppress my feelings any longer. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you!’

‘Must I really?’

He seemed not to have heard that.

‘My feelings for you are hot and glowing like the sun, and yet soft and blooming like rose petals opening in summer!’

‘Gosh. You don’t say.’

‘My heart thrums at the very sound of your name! Your eyes shine like the coat of my finest thoroughbred. When you laugh, the bells of heaven sound in my ears.’

‘You could try earplugs.’

I tugged at my hands again. But they seemed to be fixed to his with glue.

‘I love you, Miss Linton - no, I love you, Lillian! I love you passionately! And I know you love me, too!’

‘You do, do you?’

Tug! Tug!

Blast it! Did this little fellow have adhesive sweat?

‘Oh yes!’ Still not letting go, he sank onto his knees in front of me.

Oh, no, no, nonononono! Not that! Please not that!

‘Please, Lillian, I beg of you: make me the happiest man in the world! Give me the answer I am hoping, no, I am living for. Will you marry me?’

I tugged at my hands again - and in the effort to get them free, I might have lowered my head the tiniest little bit, tensing my neck muscles. Mr Fitzgerald chose to interpret it for the gesture commonly referred to as ‘nodding’.

‘That is all the answer I need! You are speechless with joy, aren’t you? So am I! Oh, Lillian my darling, come into my arms!’

Jumping up, he dashed forward, ready to embrace me.

And I?

Well, what was a girl to do in a situation like that? What could I do when a man had just bared his heart to me?

I did the only thing I could do. I stabbed him in the eye with my fan.

‘Ouch!’

At least that was one item of the fan language that couldn’t possibly be misinterpreted. Instinctively, marvellously, blessedly, he let go of my hands and I jumped back with the agility of a mountain goat. And I bet no mountain goat was ever that agile

while wearing a ballgown with a huge crinoline! Whirling around, I ran down along the terrace, my only thought to get as far away from Mr Fitzgerald and his lovesick puppy-dog eyes as I possibly could.

‘Lillian, my love! Wait!’

But I didn’t wait. Oh, no! I sped up. I’ve always been a pretty fast runner, if I do say so myself. I was out of the light spilling from the terrace door in a flash, and in the moonlight, I could already see my escape not far ahead: the corner of the house! Behind that, there would be gardens, with lots of bushes to hide behind, and no ball guests to throw impromptu love confessions into my face.

Sucking in a big gulp of air for my dash to freedom, I sped up, swerved around the corner of the house - and ran smack into someone.

A tall, very solid, very male someone.

Staggering back, I looked up, a catalogue of expletives on my tongue - but they all died on my lips as soon as I caught sight of the man in front of me.

‘Well, well…good Evening, Miss.’