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Showing her all my sparkly teeth, I curtsied. ‘Maria? How charming. I have a sister of that name.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Yes. For some reason, you remind me of her.’
‘And Lady Eveline, this is Miss Lillian Linton. Her brother works as a secretary for my son.’
‘Oh.’ Lady Eveline’s smile reappeared in a flash. ‘You invited the help for Christmas, Lady Samantha? How very charitable of you.’
Snickers came from all around.
Strangulation is against the law! Strangulation is against the law!
I repeated the words again and again - but that didn’t make them any more palatable.
Still, I refrained from putting my hands around her scrawny neck. There were so much more sophisticated ways of destroying her, along with the rest of those hyenas.
‘Oh, I don’t think I was invited because of my brother’s connection to Mr Ambrose,’ I told them all with a genteel smile. ‘Didn’t you know? Mr Ambrose and I have known each other for a while now.’
‘You have?’ Lady Eveline’s voice dripped with disgusted disbelief.
‘You have?’ Lady Samantha, on the other hand, sounded as if she had just received an early Christmas present. Behind me, I could feel Mr Ambrose freeze into a block of ice, and my fake smile turned into a real one. This might be more fun than I had expected.
‘Oh yes. We met over a year ago at a ball at Lady Metcalf’s. Since then, we’ve spent quite a lot of time in each other’s company.’ I just happened to be wearing trousers during most of that time.
‘Why, Rick!’ Lady Samantha’s eyes, gleaming with undisguised plans for the future, fastened on her son. ‘You never said!’
Mr Ambrose made an indistinct noise in the back of his throat. It sounded a little bit like a Siberian tiger choking.
‘Well, he wouldn’t.’ Sidling up to my dear employer, I gazed up at him from under my lashes. ‘He can be a little shy. I remember, when we were at the Royal Wedding-’
‘The Royal Wedding?’
I didn’t know who had spoken. The voice had been an unfamiliar squeak - one of the hyenas, presumably. When I glanced at them, they were all staring at me, mouths hanging open. Lady Samantha was not in much better shape.
‘N-not the Royal Wedding, as…as in…’
‘…as in Queen Victoria and Prince Albert? Yes, that one.’ I gave Mr Ambrose a gentle nudge. ‘Have you been holding out on your dear mother? Dear me, why would that be? Come on, tell them all about it. I know you want to.’
Mr Ambrose’s jaw worked. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw his little finger tapping a furious staccato against the palm of his hand. Finally, he parted his lips and, taking a deep breath, said:
‘We were there.’
His lips shut again.
The circle of ladies gazed at him, waiting avidly for the story. Inconspicuously, I glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece to see how long it would take them to realise that was all they were going to get out of him. Thirty seconds…forty-five…
‘That was it?’ Lady Eveline demanded.
Under one minute. Impressive.
Mr Ambrose cocked his head. The silent gesture was as clear a ‘What more do you expect?’ as ever I heard spoken out loud.
‘The Royal Wedding?’ Lady Samantha breathed. Her eyes were practically shining with motherly glee, and I could have sworn she suddenly had wedding rings and little hearts for pupils. ‘You truly were there? Together?’
Mr Ambrose engaged in a manly battle against his vocal cords, but finally he had to pry his lips apart and push out a cool, curt ‘Yes!’
‘Oh dear. Oh my goodness…’
