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Yes, I’d been wondering that, too. And wasn’t it just my kind of luck that now and here, in the company of Rikkard Ambrose and his entire family, was the moment it had to happen?
‘How do you do, Your Ladyship.’ Captain Carter repeated the hand kiss with Mr Ambrose’s mother - not a wise move. It suddenly grew even colder outside. If looks could kill, Captain James Carter would be nothing but a skeleton frozen forever in a giant cube of ice. ‘Such a pleasure to make your acquaintance. And these lovely people are your family, I presume?’
‘My son, Rikkard, and my daughter, Adaira Louise.’
‘Charmed.’ Once again, he reached for a hand to kiss - that of Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s little sister.
Oh God. You’re dead. So absolutely, one hundred per cent dead. R.I.P. Captain James Carter.
Miraculously, he was not killed on the spot. Instead, he reached out and took the hand of Rikkard Ambrose. For one horrible, horrendous moment I thought he was going to kiss it, too - then his fingers squeezed in a handshake.
‘Such a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr Ambro-’
That was the moment when Mr Ambrose started to squeeze back.
‘Nng!’
‘Yes.’ Mr Ambrose’s voice was a soft arctic wind, promising the coming blizzard. ‘Such a pleasure. I’ve snatched glimpses of you from afar, Captain, and have taken the liberty of following your career and interesting exploits. I look forward to our getting to know each other better.’
Never had a death-threat been worded in so gentlemanly a manner.
‘Mmmh. Rrrg.’ Captain Carter swallowed and squeezed back, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. ‘You…have quite a grip, Mr Ambrose.’
‘Yes. On everything.’
Abruptly, he let go of Carter’s hand, and the captain pulled it back, clearly working hard to resist the urge to cradle it against his chest. Mr Ambrose’s gaze swept over the captain’s colleagues.
‘Greetings, gentlemen. Welcome to my father’s home.’ And he extended his hand.
The officers took an instinctive step backwards.
‘This,’ Adaira whispered in my ear, her eyes gleaming, ‘is getting exciting! I never dreamt a Christmas ball would be this much fun.’
The marchioness intervened then, taking the major by the arm with one of those motherly smiles of hers and ushering everyone out of the cold, into the toasty warm hall. She engaged the military men in conversation, enquiring what they thought of their winter quarters, and how the reception of the country to their arrival had been so far. I tried to join the conversation. I tried to engage the captain and his friends in small talk, smile and be polite - while from behind me, Mr Rikkard Ambrose was deep-freezing the back of my head. Captain Carter, however, who was still nursing his hand with a bemused expression on his face, seemed to be blissfully ignorant of the tension in the air. He gave me
a bright smile.
‘I still remember the last time we danced together. At Lady Abercrombie’s, wasn’t it? You looked so beautiful that night.’
Ice crystals started building on my neck. I manufactured a smile. ‘Really? I’m sure I didn’t. You were probably thinking of someone else.’
Please say you were thinking of someone else! Please! I don’t want you to end up deep-frozen.
‘Oh no, I remember you distinctly.’
Crap!
‘You were the most beautiful lady at the ball. Simply resplendent.’ Taking my hands, he half-turned towards me and gazed down at me in a manner that could not be misinterpreted. Crap, crap, crap! ‘There was no other who could compete with you. Why do you think I danced with you twice in a row?’
The ice crystals on my neck were quickly getting ambitious and developing into icicles. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I replied with a sort of suicidal levity. ‘Pity? Insanity? Lack of options?’
Suddenly looking unusually serious, he squeezed my hands.
‘It was none of those things, Miss Linton,’ he whispered. ‘I might have thought so, once - but not any longer. I’ve thought a lot about you during these last few months.’
Oh dear Lord…
‘Captain Carter—’
