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She was still looking at me, complete innocence in her eyes. ‘Problems? What problems?’
Oh my God. The poor girl had no idea.
‘Err…none. None whatsoever.’ Clearing my throat, I struggled mightily not to burst out laughing. Had she ever heard a French accent before? Probably not. Oh the poor, poor, girl. Still, who was I to ruin her dream?
I patted her shoulder encouragingly.
‘Go to Paris.’ I told her with a smile. ‘Sing to your heart’s content. Every girl should live her dream.’
Her eyes lit up with joy and…crap! More than just joy. Lots more. ‘You really think that?’
Crap, crap, crap! Why couldn’t I keep my trap shut? I was supposed to be an arsehole! An overbearing, arrogant, dictatorial male asshole! I couldn’t suddenly start being nice and reasonable to females. To judge by the look she was directing at me…crap!
‘Oh, Mr Linton, I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you believe in me. Aside from my dear mother, you’re the only one, the only one who’s ever…’
Trailing off, she gently touched my hand, making her meaning abundantly clear. Groaning, I sank back into my seat. This was going to be a very long drive.
*~*~**~*~*
‘…and three hundred divided by six makes fifty.’
‘By Jove, you’re right! I can’t imagine how I missed that mistake.’
Neither could I. But I was kind
enough not to mention that. Although he didn’t know it, Mr Phelps was doing me a huge favour by leeching off my math skills. Nothing was so effective at putting people to sleep as watching other people solve complex math problems. Miss Harse’s eyelids were already drooping, and the rest of the passengers had long since started snoring. It wasn’t long before the young lady joined them, and Mr Phelps did, too.
‘Oh dear.’ Blinking, I gazed down on his head, resting on top of my calculations. I hadn’t reckoned on my strategy working quite this well. Carefully, I shoved him aside so he slumped against the door, and concentrated on the math again. It was soothing and familiar, and kept my mind—at least for a while—from the thing it really wanted to worry about.
Him.
With every passing minute, I was getting closer. With every passing mile, the moment was approaching when I’d have to face him, and whatever trouble he was in. Math was a welcome distraction, filling my head with number after number.
Finally, the last one was deducted, the last zero dealt with, and I was left only with the snoring of the other passengers and the landscape rushing past outside to distract me. A landscape which, I noticed, was already growing considerably more urban. We were quickly approaching Paris and, along with Paris, Mr Rikkard Ambrose.
A shiver travelled down my spine as I remembered our last exchange.
‘Mr Ambrose, where are you going? Where?’
‘It’s better if you don’t know, Miss Linton. Dalgliesh will be waiting for just such a chance. Where I’ll be going…he’ll be lying in ambush.’
‘And you think that argument will convince me to let you go?’
‘No. It’ll tell you why I cannot take you with me.’
With a grim smile, I glanced down at the slip of paper in my hand onto which, under threat of horrible torture, Karim had scribbled an address. An address that was only ever meant for me to send mail to—not to visit in person.
Ha!
I’m not that easy to get rid of, Mr Ambrose. I’ll have your back, whether you want it or not. And, since your derrière is attached to your back, I’ll use the opportunity for some long overdue kicking!
Still, my desire to be with Mr Ambrose, and my foot’s desire to meet with his backside, didn’t mean that I wasn’t terrified. I knew perfectly well what Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh was capable of. What I didn’t know was what kind of devilry he had cooked up this time. What kind of danger could Mr Ambrose be in? It had to be something really bad for him to leave me behind. We had tracked through jungles and deserts, fought our way through bandits and rebels together. What could possibly be in store for me in the capital of France that was bad enough for him to leave me behind?
Taking a deep breath, I put my calculations away and raised my chin, staring belligerently out at the French landscape, as if daring it to be dangerous. I might have no idea what kind of perilous situation I would be walking into, but no matter what, I would fight for him tooth and claw!
Outside, the sun slowly sank towards the horizon. As the sky turned darker, my thoughts of Mr Ambrose slowly turned into daydreams, and then the day disappeared, and only dreams remained, which gradually faded into darkness.
I was jerked awake when we hit a bump in a road. Blinking, I glanced outside and saw a sea of lights below. We were driving down a shallow hill, and below us, twinkling lights stretched out as far as the eye could see, separated by a glittering band of darkness.
