‘Who… who are you?’ I finally managed.
‘Oh, I am so sorry.’ His smile widened and he gave a snappy bow that made his mahogany locks fly. ‘My name is Carter, Captain James Carter to be precise. I apologize for accosting you thus without being formerly introduced, but when there is something important at stake, like the impending violent slaughter of a close friend, I tend to forget social niceties.’
I looked back and forth between Wilkins on the dance floor and this fine specimen of military manhood in front of me.
‘You are a friend of Sir Philip's?’
‘I believed I already mentioned that, yes.’
My eyes, which had been fixed on his face before, wandered down to take in the rest of him. He didn’t look like the average man, exactly. For starters, he wasn’t wearing a uniform - very strange for military men, who generally used their shiny red coats to attract silly girls like flies. Instead, he was wearing a dark blue tailcoat and beneath it a waistcoat decorated with…
Wait a minute!
‘Your waistcoat has tigers on it,’ I said. ‘Golden tigers.’
‘Ah, yes!’ His smile widened, as if I could not have hit upon a subject that suited him more. ‘Do you like it?’
‘Um… it’s nice. The tigers look very… shiny.’
He thrust out his chest. ‘Fabulous, aren’t they? I’ve had a French dressmaker stitch one on for every tiger I killed on safari.’
My eyes snapped up to his face again, narrowed. ‘Really?’
‘No, not really. It’s just some story I tell people when I first meet them, to see whether they fall for it.’
‘And do they?’
‘Generally, no.’ He sighed. ‘I have no idea why. After all, I am the image of a fierce tiger hunter.’
‘Excuse me, Sir, but…’
‘Yes?’
‘Are you drunk?’
‘Not yet. But I hope will change as the evening progresses.’ Relaxing his posture, he rubbed his hands together. ‘Now, back to business. We were talking about your plans to assassinate my friend.’
I took a step back. Either this man was drunk in spite of denial or, the more worrying possibility, he was absolutely sober. In which case he was probably stark raving mad.
‘I don't have any plans to assassinate your friend!’
‘Don’t you? So, that look that said you’d like to ram a knife into his back, you give that to everybody?’
I promptly gave it to him, which seemed to amuse him to no end. He lifted his hand to his face to hide a chuckle.
‘I see. May I have the honour of learning your name, Miss, so I can denounce you at Scotland Yard when the deed is done?’
‘I,’ I said, with as much disdain as I could pack into my voice, ‘am Miss Lillian Linton.’ Unfortunately, there wasn’t as much disdain in my voice as I’d hoped, which probably came from the fact that some part of me was rather amused by the stranger and his waist full of tigers. ‘And I assure you, I have no intention of murdering Sir Philip. Why would I? He is courting my sister.’
‘Well, that alone would be a good reason,’ Captain Carter said cheerfully.
My mouth dropped open.
‘I-I thought he was your friend!’
‘He is. He’s also the biggest nincompoop between here and Yorkshire. I pity the lady who links her life with his. But fortunately, that’s not going to happen any time soon.’
At that, my face suddenly became deadly serious again. For a moment, this strange man had distracted me, but now it all came rushing back - Ella, Wilkins, the approaching proposal.
‘Did I say something wrong?’ Captain Carter enquired, obviously noticing my dark mood.
‘Not as such,’ I mumbled. ‘It’s just that I think you’re wrong.’
‘Wrong? Wrong in what way?’
‘In supposing that your friend would not marry for a long time.’
‘Why? Has he finally found a victim?’
I scowled at him. His amused, cavalier attitude made my blood boil. ‘Of course! Didn’t I just say he was courting my sister? He wants to marry her!’
‘You said he was courting her, all right,’ he agreed. ‘But the one doesn't necessarily imply the other. Not with him, anyway.’
I blinked, taken aback, the anger going out of me. ‘What the heck is that supposed to mean?’
‘That’s supposed to mean that if old Flip had married every woman he’d ever courted, he’d have a harem to rival that of King Tamba of Benares.’
‘Who?’
‘King Tamba of Benares. He was a 6th century king in India, and, according to some of the Hindu legends, he had a city of sixteen thousand women available to fulfil his every-’
Hastily, I interrupted him before he could go into any more detail. ‘I don't care about any King Tamba! Are you seriously suggesting that Sir Philip Wilkins does not intend to marry my sister, after courting her for several weeks?’
‘Certainly.’
‘But he has come to her house practically every day!’
‘A man has to spend his time in some way, doesn't he?’
‘He sent her flowers! Masses of flowers!’
‘He is a passionate botanist. Maybe you have noticed he likes flowers in general?’
‘Likes is not the word I would have chosen, Captain Carter.’
His lips twitched. Apparently, he really did know Sir Philip. At least well enough to know his interests.
‘Quite. Well, it didn’t take him long to discover that men don't tend to share his passion. He tried presenting a few men with flowers, and they either stared at him coldly or threw him out of the house. Women, on the other hand, are always delighted when he gives them flowers. Poor chap, I haven’t brought myself to disillusion him about the reason. Better let him think that England is full of botanically-interested ladies.’
I shook my head. This just couldn’t be. After all the worry, all the scheming, hope, despair… no. It just couldn’t be!
‘But he is in love with her!’ I blurted out. What was I doing? One never was supposed to be this blunt with a new acquaintance - not even I. But I couldn’t seem to stop myself. ‘He told me as much! He told me he loved her.’
‘Oh, he probably does.’ Captain Carter waved his hand airily, as if this were of no great concern. ‘He is rather fond of being in love, particularly if the lady in question has bright blue eyes. But after a week or two, he’ll meet a new lady, and fall in love again, just as he’ll find a new flower to interest him.’
My mouth popped open.
‘That’s why we - his old university friends, I mean - call him Sir Flip,’ Captain Carter added with a nostalgic smile. ‘We came up with the nickname when we were at Oxford together, and he used to turn his eyes on a different lady every five days or so. It was rather amusing to watch, though it could get a little confusing at times.’
‘That… that is horrible!’
‘No,’ the Captain disagreed, cheerfully. ‘It would be, if he were as stunningly handsome as my good self. But being such a colossal guffin, it’s not really something to worry about. I mean, can you see any lady he falls in love with actually returning the favour? Be honest.’
I threw a dubious look at Sir Philip, and cleared my throat. ‘It… it still isn’t right!’
‘Well, it’s not as if he does it on purpose, Miss Linton. I assure you, he’s perfectly convinced each time that he’s found the woman of his dreams.’ He shrugged. ‘And then he wakes up. As I said, since he’s not exactly a Don Juan, it’s not really something to worry about.’
Again, I didn’t know what to say. I stared aimlessly at the tigers on the waistcoat and thought: For nothing. All my worry has been for nothing.
Or had it? This was all so insane. It couldn’t really be true, could it?
‘Unless…’ Captain Carter’s voice was hesitant now, and not amused anymore. ‘Unless your sister really does have true affection for my friend. In that case, Miss Linton, I’m afraid that your sister will have to prepare herself…’
‘No!’ Before I knew what had happened, my head had started to shake itself. ‘No. No, no, no, no, and no again. She doesn't. Never has, never will. Not in this life or the next.’