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I had been wrong.
There were ball guests behind the house. At least one of them.
Mouth agape, eyes wide open, I stared up into the regal, aquiline face of Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh.
The Half Happy Couple
‘Miss?’ Lord Dalgliesh stepped forward, extending his hands to steady me. I felt his long, aristocratic fingers grip my shoulders. ‘Miss, are you all right?’
How to answer that truthfully?
Scratch that. There was no way to answer that truthfully. If I did, he’d know that I was far from all right. And he’d know it was because of him. Because I knew who and what he was.
‘I…I’m just a little taken aback,’ I murmured, casting my eyes down. Please don’t let him recognise me. Please! ‘I didn’t expect to literally run into somebody like that.’
He smiled. It was a harmless smile. A friendly smile. It was a lie.
‘I can understand that. I am sorry to have distressed you. May I escort you somewhere?’
‘No, it’s all right, I’m-’
My voice cut off when I felt his grip suddenly tighten on my arm.
‘Miss?’ His voice suddenly didn’t sound quite so harmless anymore. Still friendly, but not harmless at all. ‘Miss, have we met before? I could swear…’
A barrage of images flashed through my mind in an instant.
Lord Dalgliesh and Mr Ambrose facing off across a ballroom, their eyes glittering like ice.
Lord Dalgliesh’s men charging us in the dark alleys of the East End, knives drawn.
Lord Dalgliesh and Mr Ambrose shaking hands like they wanted to break each other’s bones.
Lord Dalgliesh standing in his secret hideout, under the red cross and golden lion banner of the East India Company, shipping off illegal goods and stolen secrets to God-only-knew-where.
Lord Dalgliesh’s guards shooting at us, ready to kill.
Had I met Lord Dalgliesh before?
Oh yes, I had. And I had no wish to repeat the experience.
Luckily, half the times we met (the ones where guns and knives had been involved) I had been in men’s dress. But even so, if he recognised my female incarnation, it would not bode well for me.
‘No, I don’t believe so,’ I managed in a reasonably calm tone and tried to step back. His grip tightened still more.
‘But I do.’ His eyes, sharp as steel over his aquiline nose, narrowed. ‘Yes. We have met somewhere before. At a ball. I saw you with-’
‘Let go!’
But it was too late. I saw his eyes widen, and his lips silently form the word Ambrose.
‘Miss Linton.’ Suddenly, he was smiling again. This time, it looked neither harmless nor friendly. ‘So good to see you again. I always wondered what became of you after that night. Why don’t you step over here for a moment? We haven’t come across each other in a long time, and I would love to discuss a mutual acquaintance of ours.’
‘Sorry. I don’t really have the time right now.’
I tugged to free my shoulders from his grip - to no avail. His hands were like steel clamps. And he was still smiling.
‘I insist. Please follow me, Miss Linton. We are going to have a good, long talk, where nobody else can hear and-’
