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‘Certainly.’ I gave His Lordship my most brilliant go-kiss-my-generous-derriere smile. ‘By all means, send your man after my sister. I’m sure she will be glad for the company.’
Lord Dalgliesh raised one golden eyebrow. ‘Is that so…? Well, you heard the gentleman, Thomas. Move.’
Thomas gave a curt bow and, without a word, dashed off towards the stables. He seemed to be quite eager to catch up with my ‘sister’. Quite eager indeed.
Shuddering, I tried to push aside images of what might have happened if I were still inside that coach, or worse, right here at Battlewood in female garb.
‘Shall we go inside?’ I offered Lord Dalgliesh another smile. ‘Don’t worry. My sister will be perfectly safe now.’
Lord Dalgliesh returned my smile, and even though he didn’t say a word, his reply was clear: We shall see.
And we did indeed see. Or at least I did, from the window up in my room. Grinning, I perched on the windowsill, gazing down at the rumpled figure of Thomas trudging through the thickly falling snow. He looked like a man who had just spent two hours combing a blizzard for a girl that currently did not exist. I might almost have pitied him, if his employer hadn’t been a murderous madman with delusions of grandeur.
‘Enjoying yourself?’ enquired Adaira from behind me.
‘Very much so.’
‘Well, I hope it lasts.’ Smirking, she settled down on the windowsill beside me. ‘Mother is looking for you. She is quite disappointed with you because you let your “dear sister” leave the estate. Apparently, she had begun to harbour certain hopes…’
She trailed off. But she didn’t need to say anything more. Her wickedly dancing eyes spoke more than a thousand soppy romance novels. My ears started to burn, and I glanced away. So I didn’t see her face when she added in a soft voice: ‘She’s not the only one, you know.’
My breath caught.
Had she really just…
No. No, she couldn’t just have given me her approval to… no. It simply wasn’t possible. I mean, we liked each other, but she knew who I really was and what I had been up to with her brother. What kind of little sister wanted a girl like that for her brother?
A soft hand took mine and gave it a firm squeeze. ‘As far as I’m concerned - welcome to the family.’
This one, apparently.
I looked up, opening my mouth - but she was already slipping out of the room, closing the door behind her. My heart pounding like a poltergeist’s kettledrum collection, I turned back to the window and the marvellous sight of Lord Dalgliesh’s henchman cursing and shaking snow out of his boots.
It wasn’t the only such sight that helped to amuse and distract me over the following days. My - that is to say, Miss Lillian Linton’s - remaining luggage was stolen, the gardens were patrolled, the attics and cellars were secretly searched - all to no avail. Lord Dalgliesh looked more and more sour every day and, I had to admit, I would have found it extraordinarily amusing, if I hadn’t missed my copies of Frankenstein and Ivanhoe. I had paid good money for those books! What right did that hook-nosed nasty of a lord have to pinch them, simply because he was looking for information on how best to kidnap me?
Still, every time I saw Lord Dalgliesh’s fists clench in aggravation at the sight of me, I had to suppress a smile.
Here I am, Your Lordship. Right here in front of you - a girl hiding in plain sight. Only, you are too narrow-minded to even suspect it.
Unlike Lord Dalgliesh, however, the lady guests at Battlewood Hall didn’t seem particularly upset by Miss Lillian Linton’s sudden departure.
‘She’s such a greedy little witch, that one,’ Lady Caroline whispered in a voice that she thought was low enough not to carry over the room to where I was standing. ‘A real fortune hunter. I’ve asked around, and, apparently, her father’s estate was entailed on the male line. She and her pack of sisters are living off the charity of some relative until they can catch themselves an unfortunate man.’
The other ladies giggled, and I had to suppress my urge to march across the room and slap the little witch across the face. That would not have been the kind of gentlemanly behaviour befitting Mr Victor Linton. Damn and blast good manners!
We were all gathered in one of the drawing rooms. When I say ‘all’, I mean all of those who had stayed behind. Most of the gentlemen had decided to go out hunting that morning, Mr Ambrose among them. Not that he would normally spend time on such frivolous activities as hunting. But ever since Lord Dalgliesh’s arrival, I had seen it glinting in his eyes: the fervent need to kill something. Better he take it out on forest animals than on his mother’s Christmas guests. So I had persuaded him to go, while I myself stayed behind. As for me, I could shoot with a revolver, but hunting rifles remained, for the moment, beyond me. So I had stayed behind. A decision that I was, right now, thoroughly regretting. Shooting something seemed like a very good idea.
‘How did she ever even meet someone like Lord Ambrose?’ another one of the hyenas whispered, scathingly. ‘He’s so far above her, she shouldn’t even be able to reach up to his toes.’
Bravo, lady. Such a good job at advancing the feminist cause there.
‘Her brother is Mr Ambrose’s secretary.’
‘What? Well, that explains everything. What incredible luck that little witch must have.’
‘Not anymore.’ Lady Caroline sounded smug. ‘She’s not the only one who can use one man to get to another.’
‘You mean…’
