Silence Breaking (Storm and Silence 4)

The same iron will.

All innocents duck. Let the battle of the titans begin.

Adaira seemed to share my thoughts. Beside me, she took a tentative step back.

‘Pardon my delay in joining you, my dear guests,’ the Marquess said in a voice as warm and welcoming as an arctic blizzard. ‘Important matters kept me detained. However, now that I have been able to join you, let me personally welcome you to Battlewood Hall. Consider my house yours for the duration of your stay. Breakfast will be served in a moment. Please be patient while I greet a…very special guest.’ His gaze returned from his guests to Mr Ambrose. ‘Someone I haven’t seen in a very, very long time.’

No one dared object as the Marquess stepped towards Mr Ambrose, lowering his head about half an inch.

‘Son.’

Mr Ambrose lowered his head as well - no more than a quarter of an inch, at most.

‘Father.’

Silence.

And more silence.

It stretched out like an insurmountable precipice between the two great men, becoming wider, deeper and more deadly with every passing second - while Lord Dalgliesh stood a little way away, watching. The corners of his mouth were twitching.

‘William!’ Trying to force a brave smile onto her lips, Lady Samantha stepped right into the middle of the deadly crevice, gazing up at her husband. ‘You’re here! It was most inconsiderate of you to remain absent and leave it to me to greet all our guests.’

‘My apologies, my dear.’ The Marquess didn’t sound particularly apologetic. He didn’t even glance at her. His eyes were still riveted to those of his son, fighting a silent battle of wills. ‘As I said - I had some important matters to attend to over the last few days. Besides…’ His eyes bored into Mr Ambrose with renewed force. ‘I had hoped that certain guests of mine would not object to climbing a few insignificant stairs to see me again after so many years.’

‘That is the problem with hopes one has of relatives,’ Mr Ambrose shot back, his eyes narrowing infinitesimally. ‘They are so often disappointed.’

‘Marquess! Such a pleasure to see you again, after such a long time.’

Two pairs of sea-coloured eyes broke contact and flicked to the speaker who had dared to interrupt. Lord Dalgliesh didn’t flinch under the double onslaught of ice. He didn’t even shiver. One brilliant, shark-like smile deflected everything.

‘Lord Dalgliesh.’ The Marquess inclined his head. It did not escape my notice that he bowed significantly lower than he had for his own son. My hand suddenly itched to reach out and slap the old man across the face. But since I was not suicidal, I refrained. It would have been madness enough to get involved before, when there were only two people wanting to kill each other. But now? By the looks of it, there were three people, each of which wanted to kill the two others - the only reason all were still alive being that no one could decide on whom to murder first.

‘Ah, those family reunions…’ I jumped, nearly breaking my neck whirling around to see that Miss Bardley had joined Adaira and me. She had - surprise, surprise - a smile on her face. I’m not kidding. A smile. ‘Aren’t they wonderful? Family and friends finding each other again after such a long time always makes me feel warm inside.’

‘Yes, um. Very warm indeed.’

Mr Ambrose took a step forward. Instantly, my attention jumped back to the threatening battle in the room. ‘Lord Dalgliesh was just complimenting Mother on your beautiful home,’ my dear employer informed his father. Your home. Not ours. He really knew how to wield every word like a blade. And between the words, there was another meaning, one able to do much more damage. I could feel it slamming into his father.

‘Was he?’ The Marquess pierced Lord Dalgliesh with a look, then gave the same treatment to his beloved son. ‘I would have thought you might have learned to be cautious about paying attention to idle words from certain sources by now, son.’

‘Oh, I have.’ Mr Ambrose’s gaze was ten times as cold as his father’s. ‘Independence is a useful trait, particularly when dealing with stubborn old men who-’

‘Shouldn’t we sit down for breakfast?’ Lady Samantha broke in with an insanely hopeful smile. ‘Our guests are surely getting hungry!’

‘Oh, do not hurry on my account, My Lady.’ Lord Dalgliesh gifted her with a bright smile. ‘I’m enjoying myself immensely.’

She glared at him, and he closed his mouth.

‘Now, William,’ she insisted. ‘We are keeping our guests waiting.’

The Marquess exchanged one last, long, lethal look with his son, then turned to offer his wife an arm.

‘Of course, my dear. Let me escort you to your seat.’

*~*~**~*~*

I had to admire Lady Samantha. With superhuman skills of diplomacy, she managed to scatter her husband, her son and Lord Dalgliesh around the table, with plenty of military men and talkative young ladies as buffers between them. By the time she was finished, I couldn’t even see Lord Dalgliesh, and neither could Mr Ambrose, from where he was positioned. As for his father - he was so far away, safely placed at the host’s rightful position at the foot of the table, that he and his son could do nothing but shoot each other icy glares - which they did. Apparently, a little ceasefire had been declared. I started to breathe a little more easily.