Silence Breaking (Storm and Silence 4)

It would be rude to turn down her generosity, right?

But I wouldn’t overdo it. Unless I really were to appear in a dress stitched from banknotes that he would get to keep, Mr Ambrose wouldn’t be impressed by expensive fashion anyway. I needed something simple and eleg

ant. Something that screamed ‘I’m classy and cheap!’ (the latter in the literal sense). I needed something perfect just for him.

But what kind of dress could that possibly be?

‘Lilly!’

‘Yes?’

Pulling my eyes from the décolletage of a dark red dress (much too generous for me, thank you), I turned to see Adaira emerging from a rack that featured fine, yet simply-cut dresses in interesting colours. She turned to face me and, smiling the devious smile I was starting to love, held up a dress into the light.

‘What do you think of this?’

I stared - then I started smiling, too. ‘Adaira, you are a genius!’

*~*~**~*~*

All was set. My clothes were bought. My secret weapons were sharpened and polished. My emergency stash of solid chocolate concealed in a hidden pocket. There was only one thing left for me to do: go completely and utterly barmy.

Ishegoingtoaskme? Ishegoingtoaskme? Blastblastblast! Ishegoingtoaskme?

The words hammered against my skull from the inside, needing to get out. I stalked through the halls of Battlewood, unable to sit down or even stand still, and every time I caught a glimpse of him, I wanted to grab him by the collar and demand: ‘Well? Well, you bloody son of a bachelor? Are you going to ask me to dance with you? Are you? Do you still care?’

But I didn’t.

Because, for one, that would be utterly undignified. And for another, he would bloody well have to ask me! I wasn’t going to ask him whether he was going to ask me, no Sir!

But…

But…

But what if he was going to ask someone else?

The hyenas were everywhere. They were prowling the halls of Battlewood, stalking every single one of Mr Ambrose’s steps, just waiting to pounce on him.

Okay, maybe I had taken the metaphor a little bit far. But you get my meaning. Every single one of them acted as if she were the only one Mr Ambrose could possibly choose, as if she had a special right to him that no one had better doubt. Snide comments flew through the corridors like flies in the summer. Eyes were suddenly filled with greed and hatred, tongues were coated with poison. Over the course of the day, nearly half a dozen incidents occurred that, had the participants been men, would have ended in deadly duels. Everyone hated and mistrusted everyone else. There was only one thing that all of them agreed on, one thing united them all: their hatred and mistrust of me.

‘So, my dear Miss Linton…’ Lady Eveline glanced up from her embroidery and gave me a smile that was just as fake as her needlework. She was stitching daisies on a field of green. My corpse pierced with three dozen needles would have been a much more honest representation of her true artistic vision. ‘What excuse will you give for not attending the Christmas ball?’

I returned her smile with one just as insincere. Years spent in the company of my aunt had made me an expert. ‘Whatever makes you think that I’m not going?’

‘Oh, nothing, it’s just…’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I met a few gentlemen in London who had the “honour” of dancing with you at a ball or two. Let’s just say they found the experience quite memorable. The bruises on their feet especially impressed themselves quite firmly on their recollection.’

Blasted, blood-sucking little witch! If I ever meet you in a dark alley…!

‘Is that so?’ My smile widened. ‘I myself met quite a lot of gentlemen in London, but strangely enough none of them ever mentioned you. I suppose you must be easy to forget.’

Her hand jerked and she stabbed a needle into her finger.

Bingo! Score one for you, Lilly!

Now, if I could only make her stab herself in the heart instead…

‘Tell me, Miss Linton,’ came a sugary-sweet voice from behind me. ‘How do you manage to be so plain and ordinary, and yet so self-assured? I really admire that about you. How do you do it?’

…there would still be two dozen more just like her left.