He took a step closer to me.
Without moving my head, my gaze darted from side to side. I discovered that we were pretty much alone in our own private little corner of the ballroom. Indeed, if I was not very much mistaken, there seemed to be a literal wall of people who had their backs to us, separating us from the rest of the crowd. None of them appeared to show the slightest bit of interest in our conversation, although they were perfectly within hearing distance. They stood at attention, and several of them were in uniform. The uniform of the Indian Army - the strong arm of the East India Company.
Suddenly, I found myself wishing Captain Carter had not left my side.
‘You could not see your way to tell me what connection exists between you and Mr Ambrose?’ Lord Dalgliesh’s voice was deceptively soft. ‘I would really like to know.’
‘I told you before,’ I said, finding it increasingly difficult to meet those blue eyes that bored into me like drills. ‘There is no connection.’
‘Such a pity, such a pity.’ He sighed, and smiled regretfully. ‘Do you remember, Miss Linton, that I told you I always get what I want?’
Without sign or command, the men who separated us from the rest of the ballroom and who, until now, had been standing with their backs to us, turned and stepped closer, surrounding us, surrounding me, cutting off any way of escape.
Escape? Why would I want to escape? We were at a ball, for heaven’s sake - a public festivity, hosted by one of London’s most prominent noblewomen! He couldn’t do anything to me here, surely, could he? And besides, he didn’t even look as if he wanted to do anything to me. His smile was so friendly, so charming, he looked as if he desired nothing but good for the entire world.
With every step the soldiers took towards me, I felt less sure of that.
‘Would you like to accompany me on a little stroll?’ he suggested, brightly. ‘I’ve heard Lady Metcalf’s garden is truly beautiful at night.’
What should I do? Scream for help? But help with what? He hadn’t done or said anything improper. There was nothing concrete to suggest danger of any kind. And still, something inside me screamed and clawed at my innards to get me to turn and run.
‘I…’ My voice was a mere whisper. What should I do? ‘I… don't think so, Your Lordship.’
‘Are you sure?’ He looked crestfallen, then he suddenly glanced around, saw the soldiers, and his face brightened. ‘Oh! There are a few friends of mine!’ He turned to me again. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come for a stroll? I think my friends would love to accompany us. These military fellows spend so much time breathing in gunpowder fumes, they need a lot of fresh air.’
He laughed - a light, carefree laugh that expected nothing but my joyful acceptance. If anybody watching the scene saw me decline again, they would think me abominably rude. What should I do? Oh, if only some help were here, Captain Carter, or Mr Ambrose, or…
‘Excuse me? Excuse me please, gentlemen, let me through please…’
And from between the beefy soldiers of the Indian Army stepped the figure of Edmund, the piano tuner’s son. He gave the startled Lord Dalgliesh a polite smile and said: ‘You will excuse us for a moment, I’m sure? I have to tell the lady something.’
And with that, he took me by the arm, leading me a few steps away without even waiting for an answer. Lord Dalgliesh stood where he had been standing, his face back to the perfect beneficent smile that seemed to be his favourite expression. Yet, in my time with Mr Ambrose, I had learned to read minuscule changes in facial expressions. Charming as his smile was, it didn’t soften the steel in his blue eyes.
‘Miss Linton,’ Edmund began, and gave a little bow, ‘I must thank you from the bottom of my heart for your initiative in inviting me to this ball tonight. It has brought me joy beyond what I can say. I cannot adequately express my thanks, but, as a gesture, I wondered whether you would do me the honour of dancing a reel with me?’
I could have kissed him.
Not literally, of course! I mean, my little sister was in love with him, for heaven’s sake! And even if he weren’t the apple of her eye and cherry of her heart, I would never kiss him. He looked just so… kind. Harmless. Conservative. Plus, I didn’t have plans to kiss any man, of whatever sort, ever.
But figuratively speaking, I planted a big buss on his forehead.
‘Why, thank you, Mr Conway,’ I said, curtsying and extending my arm in the most ladylike manner I had ever managed to fake. ‘A dance is just what I need right now.’ Yes, and please in the middle of the dance floor, far away from His Lordship and company! ‘I would be delighted.’
Over my shoulder I smiled at Lord Dalgliesh. ‘You will excuse us, Your Lordship.’
‘Certainly, Miss Linton.’ He bowed, just a few inches. Was it a coincidence that, at the gesture, the wall of soldiers opened up to let us pass? ‘Until we meet again.’
I shuddered as we passed between the uniformed men and they closed ranks behind us.
‘Are you cold, Miss Linton?’ Edmund enquired politely.
‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘Let’s dance.’
~~*~~*
It was terrible.
He stepped on my feet a lot, but nevertheless, I tried not to step on his. I thought it was the least I could do, considering he may have just saved my life. I still wasn’t too sure about that, to be honest. Lord Dalgliesh hadn’t really said anything threatening. He had just invited me on a little walk, after all.
But now and then I caught his eye across the ballroom, and had the feeling that it would have been a pretty long walk to an unpleasant destination. I made sure that I stayed among plenty of people for the rest of the ball. Unfortunately, that meant having to dance almost every dance, with any partner who happened to be available. Sometimes, safety came at too high a price.
All that sustained me through the long hours of the ball was the sight of Ella and Edmund. Whether they were dancing or not, and no matter how far apart they were, their eyes never left each other. I had to admit I was beginning to warm to this Edmund chap. Maybe it wasn’t so terrible that my little sister was in love, and she wouldn’t end up miserable and oppressed like so many other women who gave themselves over to a man.
And if she would, Edmund would rue the day he was born!
As the evening dragged on, the music became slower, the crowd less excited, and finally, it was all over. Lady Metcalf stood at the door to say goodbye to all the guests. We were some of the last ones to leave. Yet there was one other behind us, surrounded by an entourage of figures in uniform.
Lord Dalgliesh nodded to me and smiled.
I could almost hear a voice whispering into my ear: This is not over.
~~*~~*
I had assumed that, now he had dropped my sister like a hot brick, Sir Philip would try to get rid of us as soon as possible. I was mistaken. He took us home in his coach as planned and, the entire drive, did nothing but chinwag about the fabulous Lady Katherine he had met at the ball. However, other than you might imagine, this was not awkward in the least. Quite the contrary.
Why, you might ask?
I might have been angry with him for casting aside my sister like a used glove - but seeing as Ella was quite delighted to be thrown aside like a used glove, and looking happier with every word he spoke, taking pains to agree most energetically with his praise of Lady Katherine, it was rather hard. Especially since my aunt was shooting gazes of fiery anger at the poor Sir Philip, not one of which he actually noticed.
‘…and her hair, as golden as the sunlight, don't you think?’ he sighed, his eyes dreamy.
‘Most definitely,’ Ella concurred, nodding energetically. ‘Golden sunlight on a summer morning. Don’t you think so, Mr Conway?’
‘W-what? Oh yes,’ stammered Edmund, who had been too busy staring at Ella to hear one word in ten.
‘I shall send her a bouquet of flowers directly in the morning. Or maybe two, or three! What do you think, Miss Ella?’