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‘Honeymoon?’
I didn’t seem able to do anything but incredulously repeat his last words. I should have thrown something at him, or slapped him, but all I could do was stare open-mouthed.
On your honeymoon… you’re on your honeymoon with Rikkard Ambrose…
‘Yes,’ he told me, his face about as emotional as a slab of granite. ‘We had what I believe is commonly referred to as a “whirlwind romance”. Losing much of our sanity in the process, we fell passionately in love and got married in a small village near London not a week ago. We are a wasteful and completely irresponsible couple who actually went so far as to spend money on a frivolous pleasure trip called a “honeymoon”. Although our marriage has already lasted more than a week, we are somehow, miraculously, still filled with love, tenderness, passion and similar superfluous emotions.’
‘You’ve been planning this all along,’ I whispered. ‘If I decided to come along, you were going to use me like this from the very start!’
‘Oh yes.’
‘Why? Why this damn charade?’
He fixed me with his ice-cold eyes. ‘Simple. You and I both know that the agents of Lord Dalgliesh are watching the port. They probably have been given my description, and yours, too. No matter how I disguise myself - as a tradesman, an army officer, a beggar - my disguise will be penetrated, and we will be hunted down. Even if I arrive as an oriental pasha with an elephant, ten peacocks and a horde of servants in tow, Dalgliesh will find out who I am sooner or later. He knows me too well. And precisely because he knows me well, there is only one thing he will never ever expect: me arriving in the company of a girl.’
He took a step towards me, his eyes boring into me.
‘Especially,’ he continued, his voice dropping to a murmur, ‘a girl I am in love with.’ Raising his hand, he stroked a finger down my cheek, once.
My heart stopped beating. Really, honestly, it did! Then it started up again, at twice its usual pace, doing its best to jump right out of my chest.
Love?
Suddenly, I realized how very, very close he was standing. His dark eyes were wide and stormy as the open sea. It felt as if I could fall right into them, and this time, I would not escape drowning. I would not want to.
Dark eyes. Deep eyes. Loving eyes?
Could it really be? My skin was suddenly tingling all over, the air crackling with expectation.
A girl I am in love with…
‘So,’ he told me, stepping back, his tone suddenly businesslike again. ‘You see why we have to pretend to feel this ridiculous emotion towards each other, don’t you?’
My heart screeched to an abrupt halt.
Pretend?
Of course, Lilly! This is all part of his scheme! Why the hell would you think that Rikkard Ambrose would ever be interested in marrying you? And, more to the point, why would you feel disappointed that he isn’t?
Maybe because, as a wife, I would have prime murder opportunities? Yes, that had to be it! I could smother him with a pillow, or slip a little something into his nightcap, or… or… the possibilities were endless! If looks alone could kill, Mr Rikkard Ambrose would certainly have been nothing but a smouldering pile of ashes right now.
‘Tell me,’ I ground out between clenched teeth, ‘that you aren’t serious!’
He cocked his head. ‘This continued insistence on your part that I am prone to jesting is getting out of hand. So far, have I displayed a tendency to pleasantry of any kind?’
‘No.’
‘There you are. I have explained my plan to you, and the reasons behind it. We have to hide from Dalgliesh’s agents. So for now, to anyone who asks, we are Mr and Mrs Thompson, a happy couple of newlyweds from Hazlemere.’
‘Hazlemere?’
‘A picturesque little village in Buckinghamshire. Just the sort of place newlyweds come from.’
‘But… but…’ I spluttered. ‘I can’t pretend to be your wife!’
He seemed surprised by this. ‘Why not? All you need to do is wear a ring.’
‘That’s not what I meant, blast you! I meant I can’t pretend to be in love with you!’
