Silence Breaking (Storm and Silence 4)
But the rest…
They were not actually horrific. Some didn’t even have the decency to be ugly. Was it too much to ask for a hump or a wart on the nose?
Sure, they were nothing to write home about, but then, neither was I. Not in the eyes of the stupid, chauvinistic public, who badly needed a new set of standards by which to judge women. The question now was: were society’s standards also those of Mr Rikkard Ambrose? Yes, we had had fun in the jungle, but if he ever seriously wanted a woman, could it really be someone like me?
The time for doubt is over, Lilly. You’re at Battlewood. Time for the battle to begin!
‘Oh…’ Lady Samantha gazed down at the selection of ladies on the table, her eyes dreamy. ‘They’re wonderful! I can just feel it: we have the right girl. We have her here.’
Gazing at the images of the competition with narrowed eyes, I cracked my knuckles. ‘Oh yes. We have.’
The Many Weapons of a Woman
The very next morning, Lady Samantha gave orders for invitations to be made. Instead of sending orders to a printer, she handed a list of names to Hastings, who would convey it to Jeremiah Jones, an antiquary and calligraphist whose work, apparently, was praised by all the noble families in the North. Tomorrow, the marchioness would have a hundred and fifty beautiful, hand-crafted invitations.
‘Including,’ she whispered to me at the breakfast table while Mr Ambrose was busy
oozing disapproval for the expense, ‘thirty-six very, very special ones.’ She winked.
I suddenly didn’t feel at all like eating anymore.
‘Mr Linton? Is something wrong?’
I set the fork with my bacon down. ‘Everything is fine, Your Ladyship. I just need a little fresh air.’
I walked away before she could say anything else, and caught her glancing worriedly after me. It felt strange having someone older worry about me. Someone who felt almost like a…mother?
Shaking my head, I shook off the thought and marched out into the hall. No Christmas preparations for me this morning! I needed to blow off some steam. So I got my gun out of my suitcase and, wrapping myself in the warmest clothes I had brought, went down to the shooting range behind the house. The targets were nothing but little snowy hills, covered from head to toe in a thick blanket of white, but it was the work of a moment to brush away the snow and reveal the coloured circles beneath. Time to forget all my troubles for a while and have some fun! Besides, considering that many of the soon-to-come new arrivals would be ladies in pursuit of Rikkard Ambrose, sharpening my skills with the gun might not be a bad idea.
Bam!
A hole appeared in the middle ring. I grinned. So I wasn’t completely out of practice.
Bam!
Nearly there…nearly there…
Bam!
Bull’s eye!
Twirling my gun, I blew the smoke off the end and proceeded to the next target, imagining it looked like the serene profile of Lady Caroline Elaine Sambridge, the most aggravatingly beautiful of our thirty-six special guests.
Bam! Bam!
Bull’s eye - twice! Or should I say cow’s eye? My grin broadened. I was just raising my gun again when, from behind me, I heard footsteps.
‘Mr Linton? Mr Linton, Mother sent me to look for you, to see if you’re all right. And then I heard a racket like - oh!’
Turning, I lowered my gun and saw Lady Adaira Louise Jannet Melanie Georgette Ambrose standing behind me, her eyes widening at the sight of the gun in my hand. At that moment, with her mouth slightly open and the stern expression banished from her face, it was quite obvious how young she still was. Sixteen? Seventeen?
‘You…you’re shooting?’ she whispered.
‘Yes. Would you like to try?’
If possible, her eyes grew even wider.
‘You would let me try?’