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‘That’s one sentence I’d never thought to hear out of a sister’s mouth,’ I commented.
‘Well, considering the alternative…’ Adaira shook her head, dazed - then suddenly started to laugh. ‘Heck…I only just realised! You have been his secretary for over a year haven’t you? How long has this been going on? How long has my dear brother, the patron saint of miserdom and abstention, been carrying on an illicit office affair behind the backs of London’s high society?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it an illicit-’
‘How long?’
I felt my face heat. I was blushing! Why was I blushing? I was a feminist! A strong, independent woman, who happened to believe that a woman’s body was her own and that she could do with it whatever she liked, thank you very much. I didn’t care about social norms or other people’s opinions.
So why are your ears getting red from the nosy questions of a pesky young girl?
‘Ha!’ She pointed at me, grinning as if she had won the grand prize in a lottery. ‘I knew it! You’ve been at it this whole time!’
‘What? No, we-’
‘Ooooh, this is sweet! So sweet.’ She rubbed her hands, her eyes dancing in ecstasy. ‘I’m never going to let him forget about this. My dear brother had better not dare be difficult next time I want to go dancing with Thomas Ecclestone. If he is - oh, the things I’ll do…’ She sighed in bliss, fully in devious little-sibling mode.
I decided this would be the best time - maybe the only time - for me to escape. Cautiously, I shifted towards the door. But the moment I tried to slide away, she abruptly returned from big brother torture paradise and grabbed my arm.
‘Where do you think you’re going? You’re not getting out of this room until you’ve told me every single little detail about the two of you. I want to know how you managed to convince the king of chauvinists to take on a girl! You’ve been with him on his travels, right? Was it dangerous? Did you see pirates? Indians? Pyramids?’
‘Err…well, pirates and Indians, yes. Pyramids, no, not unless you count the South American kind.’
‘Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.’ She was jumping up and down like an overexcited baby kangaroo. ‘Do you think he’ll take me along one day, too? I’ve always wanted to see America, and Paris, and Rome and the African jungle, and India and…oh, we’ll talk about that later! Tell me about yourself? How did you manage to talk him around? What did you do? Did you seduce him with your feminine wiles? Did you work your irresistible charm on him until finally he succumbed to you and-’
Clearly, I decided, someone had to check up on Adaira’s reading material. Her mother obviously wasn’t paying close enough attention.
‘I most certainly did not,’ I told her. ‘I was accepted for the job solely for my intelligence and diligence as a working woman.’
‘You were?’ Now an expression of awe was spreading across the girl’s face. ‘By my brother?’
‘Yes. The seducing with feminine wiles came later.’
‘I knew it! How did you do it? How?’
I smiled.
‘Come,’ I told her. Gently grasping her arm, I led her to the bed and settled us both down, relaxing for the first time since she had burst in through the door. ‘Now that you know, it’s probably best if I tell you everything. It all started on a misty, cold morning in London, on the day of the general election…’
*~*~**~*~*
My wide-eyed audience went through several stages while I told my story: incredulity, awe, admiration and voracious curiosity, finally settling on hilarity. By the time I had ended my story, Adaira was sprawled on the floor, laughing hysterically. Bottom line: she was so relieved that her brother wasn’t going to be executed for buggery, and so happy she’d gained a major piece of leverage for the sibling wars, that she didn’t care a bit about the fact she had caught him in bed with a girl he was not married to. Perhaps not the ideal positive impression a girl could hope to make on her man’s sister, but you couldn’t have everything, right?
As for my alter ego, Mr Linton - Adaira was so eager to hear about all of my adventures that she wasn’t really bothered by the fact I was a crossdresser. By the time we were finished talking, Lady Adaira Ambrose and I were the best of friends. Somehow, I felt as if I’d known this fiery girl with the eerily familiar sea-coloured eyes all my life.
Which was the reason why I felt comfortable enough to take a deep breath and ask, ‘Adaira?’
‘Yes?’
Somehow, during our little chat, we had switched to first names.
‘I was wondering…Lord Dalgliesh-’
The mere mention of the name caused the smile to vanish from her face. A storm
started brewing in her eyes. ‘That man doesn’t belong under this roof!’
‘No, he doesn’t,’ I agreed. ‘But what I want to know is: why? What did he do to all of you? To your brother in particular?’
