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Reaching out, Lady Samantha supported herself against the mantelpiece. She pulled her feather out of her pocket and began fanning herself.
The eyes of the hyenas became as big as saucers. They stared at Mr Ambrose, then a few of their gazes flickered to me, with an entirely new appreciation. I smiled at them, and placed one hand on Mr Ambrose’s arm.
*~*~**~*~*
It was late in the evening. Lady Samantha and her daughter had been busy. Mr Ambrose had been forced, under pain of embarrassing baby pictures, to recount every single little detail of the Royal Wedding. The hyenas stood by, turning progressively greener and greener with envy. Lady Samantha, on the other hand, was in seventh heaven, and her daughter’s eyes sparkled with nefarious plans.
Even under such pressure, however, Mr Ambrose did not reveal all. He did not reveal my double identity, for instance. And…
And he didn’t reveal we had held hands almost throughout the entire ceremony.
When his lips closed tight on the subject, and his gaze met mine, I felt warmth rush up inside me. Somehow, even though I was the one who had brought up the subject, I was intensely glad that he hadn’t mentioned that part. That was something private. Something just between the two of us.
‘Miss Linton?’
My head jerked around. I had been so lost in Mr Ambrose sea-coloured eyes that I hadn’t even noticed someone approaching - which was a problem, considering that the someone in question was my soon-to-be suitor.
‘Oh, hello Captain Carter.’
‘Good evening, Miss Linton.’ Smiling, he performed a magnificent bow. ‘Lost in thought?’
‘Something of the sort.’
‘I’m sure all this must be quite something after the quiet life you’ve led at your aunt and uncle’s.?
?
‘Ehem. Yes. Quiet life. Very quiet.’
‘And, of course, in certain bloodstained caves in the Egyptian desert.’
I looked up, sharply. Captain Carter’s eyes were sparkling. Damn, that man was sharp! How much about my secret escapades did he know? How much did he suspect?
‘I haven’t seen much of you since that trip to Egypt,’ he said, softly. ‘I’d like to change that.’
Here it comes.
‘Would you like to go riding with me tomorrow?’
Oh. I had not expected that. I had reckoned on something more mushy-gushy, like reading poetry or singing love ballads. Glancing down, I wasn’t sure how to answer for a moment. Finally, I managed: ‘I don’t know how to ride.’
Bloody hell, did I ever hate to admit that there were things I couldn’t do!
A finger entered my field of vision, then a hand. I glanced up just in time to see Captain Carter reach out. His fingers gently clasped my chin and lifted it.
‘Let me teach you.’
Learn how to ride?
Excitement rushed through me. To most ladies, it might have been not been important - just another silly sport, like tennis or croquet. But I knew differently. Riding was freedom. If a rider had a good, steady horse, he could go anywhere, escape from anything, be wherever and whoever he wanted to be.
Or in this case: she.
‘Really?’ I demanded, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice and miserably failing.
‘Yes, really.’ The captain smirked. ‘Let me guess…you like the idea?’
‘I’ll see you tomorrow morning at six!’
