by Robert Thier
‘Quite true.’
‘You never even kissed my hand!’
‘Of course not.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because,’ he told me in a tone of someone explaining the elementary mathematics of one plus one equals two to a very slow pupil. ‘Unlike you or any of the other ladies, Mr Linton, she is immensely rich.’
My mouth dropped open. I had suspected that he wanted her for her money - I really had. But I also had never expected him to just admit it to my face.
‘You…you…’
‘You seem to have some speech problems, Mr Linton. Is something the matter?’
‘You…I hate you!’
‘Indeed?’
‘I’m going to kill you!’
‘Is that so?’ He cocked his head, regarding me for a moment. His eyes narrowed, infinitesimally. ‘Mr Linton…you aren’t labouring under the delusion that simply because she is one of the wealthiest heiresses in the north, I intend to marry this girl, are you?’
I opened my mouth to scream some quite inventive obscenities at him - and then my brain registered what he had said.
‘Wait…you aren’t?’
‘Of course not.’ Cool eyes bored into mine, driving their way into my very soul. ‘I have varied methods for enlarging my fortune - but marrying is not among them. I do not relish the thought of a business model that, barring murder, can only be implemented once. Besides…’ His eyes took on a whole other kind of intensity. ‘…if I ever planned to claim a woman as my own, I would not waste my time with kissing her hand. I would pursue a very different strategy.’
‘Such as?’
I had just time to utter the last syllable of that sentence before strong hands closed around my wrists and I was shoved against the wall, trapped between hard wood and even harder Ambrose. The breath was knocked out of me, and I stared up at the most powerful man in the British Empire, utterly lost to the mesmerising power of his eyes.
‘Well, to begin with,’ he growled against my ear, ‘I would lure her into my room under some pretence, like, for instance…a business discussion.’
‘W-would you?’
His lips graced my earlobe, sending a firework through my flaming body. ‘Oh yes.’
I managed a weak smile. ‘What woman would be stupid enough to fall for that?’
Chuckling, he moved down from my ear, over my neck, caressing my skin with his lips all the way. ‘You’d be surprised. Once I have her in my clutches, I would press her up against the nearest wall so she can’t escape-’
In flash, his arms shoved my wrists together over my head until he could keep me pinned with one single hand. His free hand began to travel down my side, eliciting a dangerous shiver.
‘-then, I would drive her wild.’
‘Y-you would?’
‘Oh yes.’ His mouth had reached my collarbone now and followed the curve until it reached that most sensitive little spot right at the centre. ‘If I ever want a woman to be truly mine, I will stoke the fire inside her until she thinks about nothing but me and her, and she will submit. There will be no going back. All that she has, all that she is, all that she dreams will be mine, forever and ever.’
‘Oh…’
‘So you see,’ he said, stepping abruptly away and letting go, nearly causing me to topple over, ‘it’s absolutely ridiculous to think that I would be interested in Lady Caroline. Shall we go?’
I stood there, panting and gaping at him. ‘G-go?’
‘Yes, go. To join the others. Or do you wish to waste more time leaning idly against that wall? If so, be advised that that time shall be deducted from your pay cheque. Knowledge is power is time is money, Mr Linton.’
And without another word, he turned and marched out of the room.
*~*~**~*~*
Suffice it to say that Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s version of reassurance was not particularly reassuring. I mean, think about it. The man of your dreams kisses you to convince you he cares - then suddenly stops, glances at his watch, and says it’s time to stop wasting time and join the lady you’re jealous of. That just makes you feel great, right?
Clearly, this battle wasn’t over. It might be for Mr Ambrose - but I would be damned if I let that ice queen sink her cold claws into him! He was mine! And anyone who disagreed had better watch their back.
I entered the small green parlour hot on the heels of my employer. Immediately, my eyes zeroed in on him standing in a small group with Lady Caroline and his mother. Ordinarily, that would have reassured me - there was no better buffer against romantic atmosphere than the presence of a mother. But in this case, the eager glow in Lady Samantha’s eyes made me suspect she wasn’t so much a buffer as a screw compressor clamp.
I was just about to start towards them when, from beside me, I heard a familiar voice.
‘Mr Linton! There you are. How fortunate. I’ve been wanting to have a word with you.’
Dread roiling in my stomach, I turned and came face to face with a smiling Captain James Carter.
‘Um…right now isn’t really the right time…’ My eyes strayed towards Mr Ambrose again. Had he just smiled? At one of her comments? No, surely that was a trick of the light!
‘Please. It is important.’
‘I’m sorry, but I’ll have to-’
‘It’s about your sister.’
That stopped me in the middle of my sentence. My eyes snapped back to the captain.
‘My what?’
‘Your sister? Miss Lillian Linton?’
‘Oh. Haha. Of course. My sister. Yes.’ The dread in my stomach had a growth spurt and prepared to develop into full-blown, adult panic. ‘What about her?’
The captain glanced around. ‘This is not the best spot for this discussion. I wonder if we could go somewhere more private?’
Any hope I’d still had that he wanted to ask me about a suitable Christmas present for my female alter ego disappeared into thin air.
‘Of course,’ I groaned. ‘Lead the way.’
Beaming, he opened a door to a small side room and stepped inside. I followed, wondering how the bloody stinking hell I was going to get out of this!
Altar Ego
The room was a small, plush space with flowery curtains and - could it get any worse? - pink wallpaper. The late afternoon sunlight sparkled on the snow outside, adding a romantic glow. The whole scene looked as if it had been taken straight out of the pages of a romance novel. The only problem with that was: both of the people in the room were wearing trousers.
With an earnest expression on his face, Captain Carter turned towards me. Never before had I seen him looking so serious before.
Crap, crap, crap! What am I going to do?
He cleared his throat.
‘Mr Linton-’
‘No!’
He blinked.
‘Pardon?’
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. ‘No. Whatever it is you want, no. On principal.’
That roguish grin I knew and loved flitted across his face. ‘I suppose that is the standard response taught to you by your employer? He seems to be a…formidable man. Don’t worry! I’m not going to ask you for his money or the clothes off your back. In fact, I don’t want anything from him or you.’
Wrong. So wrong.
He took a step towards me, his face returning to that serious expression that was so very unusual for Captain James Carter.
‘This isn’t about you, Mr Linton.’
Oh boy! You have no idea…!
‘This is about your sister.’
Here we go.
He took a deep breath. ‘May I have the great honour of asking your sister to become my-’
‘No!’
The captain blinked at me. ‘But…you haven’t even heard what I want to ask her yet.’
‘Err…well…that doesn’t matter!’ I raised my chin, the image of the protective big brother. ‘I, um…don’t allow my sister to be asked things on principal. Especially if the asker feels honoured
by it. That, err…would be bad for her. Very, very bad. It would, err…ruin her character. Yes, that’s it!’
‘Mr Linton, I do not propose anything immoral or unreasonable. I have great regard for your sister - in fact, I feel more than that, much more. Which is why I want to ask her to-’
‘No!’ I took a step back, waving both hands in the air. ‘No asking. No asking of any kind.’
‘But I want her to be my wife!’
The words were out. I felt my heart make a leap, and my mouth go dry. Had he really just said that?
Wife…
Wife…
Wife…
Oh yes, he had. I was still hearing the echoes in my empty, numb mind.
‘Of course,’ he continued with a reassuring smile that did not at all reassure me, ‘I will understand if she declines. It is always her choice. But I feel deeply for your sister. I could see us spending the rest of our lives together happily. I am not a wealthy man, but my prospects in the military are good. I would be able to support your sister in the style to which she is accustomed-’
Oh really? Would that be her peacock vest, tailcoat or bowler hat?
‘-and I would always respect her and give her the freedom she desires.’
You would, would you? Be careful what you promise…
‘If you permit, I will begin to court your sister here, at Battlewood, and after a suitable period I shall make my intentions known.’
‘And…’ I cleared my throat to dislodge the hedgehog who had apparently taken up residence there. ‘Just out of curiosity…what if I don’t permit it?’
The captain stared at me. He seemed too taken aback to be angry or even annoyed. ‘Is there any reason why you would? Anything you find objectionable about me as a suitor for your sister?’
I gave him a quick once-over.
Please! Please let there be some good excuse!
My eyes roamed across the tall figure of the officer in his immaculate red coat, staying for a moment on his strong face, roguish, intelligent eyes, long mahogany hair and broad, chiselled chest.
‘Err…you have a speck of dirt about three inches below the knee on your left trouser leg?’ I offered.
The captain stared at me, probably trying to figure out whether I was being serious or making a joke. To be honest, I was trying to figure out the very same thing. This whole situation was a bad joke! For a moment, I considered simply switching alter egos and shouting ‘Surprise, Surprise!’ Should I? Did I dare trust Captain Carter with that part of myself?
Better question, Lilly: what would it change? You know him. Do you really think that the fact you occasionally dress up as a man is going to deter him?
Even better question: did I want him to be deterred?
Swallowing, I opened my mouth. ‘Captain Carter, I…’
The door behind me swung open. Without even glancing back, I knew who it was. I could feel him.
‘Mr Linton? Am I interrupting something?’
‘No!’ Damn! Why did my voice sound like a squeaky hamster. ‘No, not at all!’
‘Actually, you are.’ Before I could I could stop him, Captain Carter, the dear suicidal fool, stepped past me to block Mr Ambrose’s path. ‘Your secretary and I have some private business to discuss.’
‘Indeed?’
Never in my life had I heard such an ice-cold death-threat vibrating in one single little harmless word. Mr Ambrose locked eyes with Captain Carter, and the air between them crackled with tension. Cautiously, I took a step back, my eyes flicking from one to the other.
Technically, Mr Ambrose should have been the one shirking from a confrontation. Captain Carter was a soldier, a trained fighter armed with a military sabre. But there was something in Mr Ambrose’s eyes that told anyone it would be unwise to bet against him. I had no idea what kinds of things he’d done in his years in the colonies, but I knew what kind of world it was out there. A world ruled by the principle ‘might makes right’. A world where he’d fought his way to the very top with tooth and claw. ‘Come here,’ his eyes seemed to say as they bored into the captain. ‘Come at me, and I’ll shred you to pieces.’
Almost involuntarily, Captain Carter took a step back.
‘Your “private business” is at an end,’ Mr Ambrose announced in the same tone a god would use to proclaim his commandments. ‘Mr Linton and I have matters of importance to attend to.’
‘Very well. We were finished anyway.’
We were?
Apparently so. The captain turned towards me with a resolute expression on his face. ‘I’m sorry to hear that you disapprove, Mr Linton. I would have preferred to have your blessing, but in the end, it will not change my mind. Even if it did, it’s not my mind I have to listen to. In this case, I have to follow my heart.’
‘Your heart?’ The words came from Mr Ambrose in a low whisper. Too low for Captain Carter to hear, probably, because he completely ignored them.
‘If you wish, Mr Linton, you are free to try and prevent me from courting Miss Linton. But whatever you choose to do or say, I shall not be deterred. I shall be declaring my intentions to your sister very soon. Goodbye.’
And with a curt nod, he left the room.
There was moment of very, very silent silence.
‘What intentions,’ Mr Ambrose enquired, his voice almost eerily calm, ‘was he talking about?’
‘Um…his intention to dance with me at the Christmas ball. Which I disapproved of, because, um… of course I, um, despise dancing. Yes.’
‘Is that so?’ His eyes bored into me like drills of frost-coated diamond.
‘Um…Yes, Sir.’
‘Mr Linton?’
‘Yes, Sir?’
‘You do know what I would do if you ever lied to me, don’t you?’
‘Err…no?’
‘Good. Keep wondering.’
And, with that ominous statement hanging in the air, he turned on his heel and marched out of the room.
*~*~**~*~*
With the way things were going, I would have preferred to bury my lady clothes in the closest ditch and forget my femininity until I was a hundred miles away from Battlewood Hall and Captain James Carter. But I couldn’t. Every second I watched Mr Ambrose, surrounded by a gaggle of greedy-eyed ladies, Lady Caroline at the front, I felt the urge to shove them back, to get into their faces and tell them to sod off. But I couldn’t. At least not as a man.
Gentlemen, for all their manifold freedoms, I was discovering, were deplorably limited when it came to telling ladies to go bugger themselves. Ladies, on the other hand - trust me on this - exchanged all kinds of spiteful, spiky comments with each other, hidden behind perfect smiles. But men? If a man was even suspected of being impolite to a lady in public, he was decried as being a rake and a barbarian. It was really abominable! Someone should really do something about this unfair treatment.
The moment I realised part of me was seriously considering setting up a men’s rights movement, I knew it was time to get out of my male clothes in a hurry.
‘Will you excuse me, please?’ I bowed to Lady Samantha, who had just been gushing to me about how wonderfully things were working out because of all the ladies who were flocking around her son. Wonderfully? Ha! ‘I just remembered that Mr Ambrose gave me a task to finish up before tonight. I’d love to stay, but…’
I let my words trail off meaningfully. Lady Samantha shook her head in disapproval.
‘That boy is working you too hard, Mr Linton. You work hard enough for two people.’
If only you knew how right you are…
‘If you come by your sister’s room, please look in on her and see if she is all right, will you? I had a footman knock earlier, but he received no reply.’
‘I’ll go and check. It’s probably just delayed travel exhaustion.’
‘You think so?’
‘Oh yes. I have a feeling she’ll be up and about in no time.’
With a last glance at Mr Ambrose and his pack of admiring hyenas, I ra
ced out of the room.
You know the saying ‘out of sight, out of mind’?
Well, it’s true. I was hardly out of the door when Mr Ambrose dwindled into insignificance in comparison to the dreadful doom that awaited me if I went back in there in female clothing. A doom by the name of Captain James Carter.
He was honestly going to court me. Court me and, one day, go down on one knee and make a you-know-what. The very thought set my heart racing, and I wasn’t even completely sure why. It wasn’t as if this was the first you-know-what of my career as an independent woman. I had fended off many a man with speed, sass and a spiky parasol. But this time…
This time it was different.
This time it was Captain James Carter.
What would he do if I said no?
And, even more terrifying…what would happen if I said yes?
Because a tiny little part of me was actually considering it. It wasn’t that I was confused about my feelings. I didn’t love Captain Carter. Not in that way. But when I thought back on everything we’d been through together, I thought that one day I possibly might. He was the only man I’d ever met who had instantly, without question, accepted me for who I truly was. He had laughed with me and danced with me, had helped me when I needed help and let me be when I needed freedom. If I had to pick one man who would be easiest to live with for the rest of my life, and would never get boring, it would be him.
But…this wasn’t about ease. It wasn’t about boredom. It was about me and what I longed for deep inside.
Did I want him?
The answer rang clear and true in my heart. And it wasn’t a yes. It wasn’t even a no. Because when I asked myself ‘do you want him’, it wasn’t a word that came back as an answer. It wasn’t even a thought. It was an image of a face. The face of Rikkard Ambrose.
Gah!
What was wrong with me? Wanting a man? Fine! That might possibly be squared with my feminist principles, if I managed to put a leash on him and make sure he was house-trained. But wanting a cold, arrogant bastard when a perfectly amiable man was there for the taking - that wasn’t just not feminist. It was insane!
And yet…
And yet…
