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Never.
‘’ere.’ Claudette handed me a folded piece of paper she’d been carrying. ‘A messenger boy arrived at se front door with sis for you when I was passing by. It sounded urgent.’
I reached for the paper, but—surprise, surprise—Mr Ambrose snatched it out of her hand before I could get there. Flipping the paper open, he started to read…
And he froze.
Not stiffened. Froze. Under my fingers, he became a statue of ice, burning with cold fire. Fear surged inside me.
‘What is it?’ I demanded. ‘What does it say?’
He said nothing. He just handed me the note which, thank heavens, was written in English!
A moment later, when I saw what it said, I wanted to take that back. I wish the note had been in French, or better yet, Bellarussian or Cechua, so I would never ever understand it.
Dear Mr Ambrose,
His most August Majesty, Louis Philippe, King of the French, regrets that he cannot accept your generous invitation. We have already received a similar offer from Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh, and have accepted in the hope of fostering better relations between our two great nations. His Majesty extends his invitation for you to join us in his permanent box at Lord Dalgliesh’s opera house, where he will be happy to receive you into his royal presence.
Yours Truly
M. Blanchard
Royal Secretary
Offence is the Best Defence
‘What now?’
It was about an hour after the receipt of the note. Mr Ambrose had sent it off to his Paris headquarters, to have its contents confirmed. A few minutes earlier, the answer had arrived: the note was genuine. The signature was indeed that of the royal secretary. So now Mr Ambrose and I sat around a small table in my attic room, while one floor down, oil was being mopped off the floor of Mr Ambrose’s office, and a few floors farther down, Karim was mopping the floor with our own personal traitor.
‘What now?’ I repeated.
Mr
Ambrose stroked one long, powerful finger along his chiselled jaw. For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Then he said something that took me completely by surprise. Something that, for the first time since we’d discovered the swamp of plots and secrets we’d stumbled into, gave me hope for the future.
‘What do you think?’
He was asking me.
He was trusting my opinion.
And I had no intention of letting him down. Taking a deep breath, I met his cool gaze—then plunged forward. ‘I say we take the battle to Dalgliesh!’
One eyebrow lifted infinitesimally. ‘Indeed?’
‘Yes, indeed, Sir.’ My eyes flashed. ‘I’m sick and tired of always being on the defensive. That bastard is a killer and a tyrant, and he deserves to go down for what he’s done—not to mention what he’s planning to do! If we can save millions of lives, we have to try!’ I flashed him a grin. ‘And if we also could destroy your biggest business rival into the bargain…who can say no to an offer like that?’
Mr Ambrose reached across the table, something shining in his dark eyes that made me feel all warm inside.
‘I always knew there is a reason why I love you.’
Taking hold of his hand, I held it fiercely for a moment, then lifted it to my lips and gently kissed his open palm. ‘Likewise.’
‘But the question remains, how do we proceed?’
I considered the question for a moment.
