Silence Breaking (Storm and Silence Saga Book 4)

by Robert Thier

  She blinked at me. I could almost see the question flicker in her mind: Is this fellow pulling my delectably formed leg?

  It took her only a moment to decide. Of course I couldn’t be pulling her leg. I was a man - nothing but helpless putty in her seductive hands. Just in case, though, she smiled at me broadly and once again pulled down her neckline.

  If she does that again, things might get embarrassing for all concerned…

  ‘Surely, there must be more to Mr Ambrose than accounting. He is such an intriguing man. I would be most grateful if you could tell me more…’

  Just at that moment, far below, a man stepped out into the courtyard below. He was followed by another, and another. The guests were setting out to hunt. More and more of them emerged from the house until, finally, he came. Mr Rikkard Ambrose stepped out into the courtyard, as dark and menacing upon the snow as a raven among a flock of sparrows.

  ‘Yes,’ I murmured, unable to help myself. ‘He certainly is intriguing.’

  Lady Caroline sidled closer, gazing down at him. Below, Mr Ambrose pulled his rifle from his back, checked it in one swift, sharp move and grabbed the nearest horse by the reins, swinging himself onto the animal’s back.

  ‘Tell me, Mr Linton,’ Lady Caroline purred, letting her fingers slide down my arm in a way that made me want to douse the appendage in vinegar, ‘what is Mr Ambrose like? What is his favourite food? What are his tastes in art and music? What kind of woman do you think he would prefer to have at his side? If you give me your insights, I can prove very…generous.’

  Ah, so this was her game, was it? Inwardly, I smiled. I’d say ‘two can play that game’ - but that wouldn’t be entirely correct. Only one could play this game: me. Because I was the only one who knew all the rules.

  Let’s have a little fun…

  And let’s hope Mr Ambrose never finds out about it.

  ‘Oh, well, Lady Caroline, if you ask so nicely…’ I did my best to make my voice sound breathy and seduced. It wasn’t easy. ‘Mr Ambrose’s favourite food…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Mr Ambrose’s favourite food are sheep’s trotters.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sheep’s trotters.’ I made walking movements in the air with my fingers. ‘You know, boiled sheep’s feet? I hear they are sold by street vendors in London on every corner.’

  ‘Boiled…sheep’s feet?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ I smiled at her brightly. ‘He eats at least a dozen a day. Can’t have enough of them.’[13]

  ‘Ng.’

  ‘What’s wrong, Lady Caroline? Don’t you feel well?’

  ‘No, no. I’m perfectly all right.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear that.’

  ‘So…what about his literary tastes?’ She gifted me with another charming, seductive smile, though it looked a little more forced this time. Or should I say sheepish? ‘What books does he enjoy?’

  ‘Hm…’ I thought for a moment. To be honest, I had never seen Mr Ambrose with a book other than his account and date book. But whoever said I was planning to be honest? ‘If I remember correctly, he is a great admirer of the The Ripley Scrolls.’

  Lady Caroline’s perfectly arched eyebrows drew together in a ladylike frown. ‘The…Ripley Scrolls?’

  ‘Oh yes, they are very dear to his heart.’

  I wondered how long it would take her to find out that The Ripley Scrolls were an obscure medieval manuscript describing how to turn lead into gold. Probably very, very long.

  ‘I see. Thank you, Mr Linton. Anything else?’

  ‘Well, he has always been a big admirer of the Rohonc Codex.’

  She smiled, trying to pretend as if she had the slightest idea what I was talking about. ‘Really? I’ve always been interested in that work myself. I must read it immediately.’

  I smiled back. ‘Good luck with that.’

  Especially considering that it’s written in an as-yet-undeciphered alphabet consisting of over two hundred unknown letters, and the only existing copy was donated to the Hungarian Academy of Sciences a few years ago.

  I would never have guessed reading that article about old books in the Times literary supplement would prove this useful.

  Lady Caroline threw a look down at Mr Ambrose, who was currently galloping off into the woods at the head of the hunting party. It was an evaluating look. An is-he-worth-the-sheep’s-feet kind of look.

  Apparently, she decided he was. I couldn’t blame her.

  ‘What about his preferences where ladies are concerned?’ Lady Caroline asked, cautiously. ‘What would be Mr Ambrose’s idea of the perfect woman?’

  Me, you slimy, slithering snake in the grass.

  But I didn’t say that out loud. Instead, I pasted a bright smile on my face and said: ‘Oh, I can tell you all about that, in detail!’

  Her expression brightened. ‘You can?’

  ‘Yes. I clearly remember him expressing his views on the matter when the two of us went to this East End brothel together, and these three prostitutes came up to us- Lady Caroline? Lady Caroline, are you all right? Oh dear! Someone fetch smelling salts! I think Lady Caroline is feeling a little faint for some reason.’

  *~*~**~*~*

  After that nice little chat, Lady Caroline and her compatriots kept their distance from Mr Victor Linton for some reason.

  All the better. I couldn’t waste a minute’s thought on them. Only two days were left before Christmas Eve. Soon, my true self would have to return to Battlewood for Lady Samantha’s big celebration, and, from the way Lord Dalgliesh’s eyes gleamed whenever I caught sight of him, he knew it. I had briefly considered just staying away - but if I did, Lord Dalgliesh might dispatch his agents to London. And if they got hold of my family…

  I shuddered, cutting off the thought right there and then.

  Miss Lillian Linton would have to reappear at Battlewood. But I would be safe, right? Mr Ambrose’s men would stand guard in front of my door day and night. Karim would accompany me wherever I went, and this time, I certainly wouldn’t try to object. But still…

  This was Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh we were talking about. A man who owned a subcontinent could do scary things.

  ‘Mr Linton?’

  I looked up. I had been sitting at the desk in my room, aimlessly doodling nooses, knives and bullets on a scrap of paper when the familiar voice came from behind me. Mr Ambrose had stepped into the room, and I hadn’t even noticed.

  Bloody hell, Lilly, you need to be more careful! What if it had been someone else?

  ‘Yes, Sir?’ Swiftly, I rose. I could tell from the look in his eyes that he was here for business.

  ‘Your sister will soon return.’

  My sister? Hm…is someone in hearing distance?

  Deciding it was best to be cautious, I gave the answer with which you could never go wrong with Mr Ambrose. ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘You and I are both aware of the danger she will be in. Of course, Karim will be on guard. But even he has to rest sometimes. During that time, someone else will have to watch her. I have sent word to the next big town to hire reinforcements, but for now, we will have to content ourselves with one of the four people among the staff who are in my employ. The men, preferably, since they are trained fighters.’

  My inner feminist wanted instantly to make a comment - but, blast him, he was right. It was unlikely that a housemaid would be of much use against one of Lord Dalgliesh’s men.

  ‘I understand, Sir.’

  He nodded briskly, and stepped to the door. ‘Come in.’

  The door opened, and two men and two women stepped in. The women were housemaids, inconspicuous creatures who looked rather nervous to suddenly be embroiled in a cloak-and-dagger intrigue of this sort. As for the men, one was a young footman, who seemed to share the nervousness of his female counterparts, and the other -

  I stared.

  ‘Hastings?’

  The venerable butler bowed as far as his paunch would allow. ‘Indeed, Sir.’

/>   ‘You have fighting experience?’

  ‘Before entering domestic service I had the honour of serving with Her Majesty’s 7th Royal Fusiliers, Sir.’

  ‘Which means?’

  ‘We were tasked with safeguarding the Royal Artillery while on the move through enemy territory, Sir.’

  ‘What do you say, Mr Linton?’ Mr Ambrose’s voice was cool, almost disinterested, but there was something in there that caught my attention and held it tightly. ‘Will these people suffice to guard your sister? It is your decision.’

  My decision.

  Our eyes met.

  He wants to reassure me, I realised. The clock is ticking. Soon, I’ll have to be myself again, and risk the danger. He wants to make sure that I’m not afraid.

  Warmth blossomed in my chest. Another man might have given me a hug. Mr Rikkard Ambrose gave me a heavily armed escort.

  Well, why not?

  I directed my gaze to the younger man, who immediately stood straighter and met my eyes. He didn’t look quite so nervous anymore.

  ‘What about you?’

  He snapped to attention. ‘Three years in the 1st King's Dragoon Guards, Sir.’

  Hm. Well, I supposed what was good enough for a king was good enough for me. My gaze slid to the house maids. ‘I suppose it’s too much to hope that you two served in the army?’

  One of the maids gave a nervous giggle. The other looked as if she were about ready to faint. I felt a sudden, violent surge of desire to see my best friend Patsy. She would have made a better bodyguard than anyone else.

  Still… my eyes drifted back to the solid, dependable form of Hastings. There was something in his eyes, a hardness I hadn’t noticed before. Oh yes, no doubt: this man had been a soldier. And he was still ready to kill, if necessary.

  I gave Mr Ambrose a nod.

  ‘They’ll do. And…’

  ‘Yes, Mr Linton?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Our eyes met again, and that brief look said more than a thousand words. That night I slept easily, secure in the knowledge that I would have someone reliable to watch my back.

  I should have known it wouldn’t be so easy.

  Early Christmas Present

  ‘She’s coming back! She’s coming back!’

  I could hear Adaira’s excited cries even though the coach was still pretty far away from the manor house. When I had explained our little ruse to her, the youngest member of the Ambrose family had happily agreed to participate in a little playacting. By the sound of it, she was doing an excellent job.

  Next to me, Karim scowled and gripped his sabre more tightly.

  ‘Relax,’ I told him. ‘As long as I’m guarded around the clock, what can Dalgliesh do?’

  He gave me a stare that could have made any man quake in his boots.

  How lucky for me that I’m not a man, then.

  ‘Dalgliesh is one man,’ he told me. ‘India is millions upon millions upon millions. And yet he rules with an iron fist. He is dangerous. He is ruthless. Do not let down your guard.’

  I blinked. Was that…concern I had just heard in his voice? Surely not.

  ‘I won’t.’

  Was that my voice, sounding so uncharacteristically soft? Christmas must be having a bad influence on me.

  When the coach rolled to a stop in front of Battlewood Hall, Adaira wasn’t the only one waiting for me. Mr Ambrose was there, as was his mother, smiling brightly, and-

  Oh dear.

  His father.

  Who was not smiling brightly.

  Before I could come up with an excuse to stay inside the coach, Karim jumped out, unfolded the steps and held the door open for me. Taking a deep breath, I started to descend.

  ‘Miss Linton! I’m so glad you’re back!’ Adaira was the first to greet me - with a bone-crushing hug instead of a curtsy, which earned her an icy stare of disapproval from her father. He was altogether looking not very approving of the situation.

  ‘Miss Linton?’ Stepping forward, he sketched a brief bow. The kind of bow Alexander the Great might have given a lady. It said clearly I’m showing you respect, but only because I feel like it. If I wanted to, I could crush you in an instant.

  I curtsied. It wasn’t a very deep curtsy. ‘Your Lordship.’

  Icy, sea-coloured eyes raked me from top to bottom. If I had been unprepared, I might have been intimidated. But I’d had over a year of training. I didn’t flinch, even when his gaze bored into mine. ‘My wife has spoken very fondly of you, Miss Linton.’

  ‘She has?’

  ‘Oh yes, indeed. She has spoken of you a lot. So has my daughter.’

  Oh? Did she mention the time she caught your son and me in bed together?

  ‘How nice.’

  ‘Interestingly enough, even Lord Dalgliesh speaks of you.’

  ‘Oh?’

  Less nice! A lot less nice!

  Though right now I thought I might even prefer Lord Dalgliesh’s company over that of this polished marble monolith of aristocracy. At least in Lord Dalgliesh’s case I knew which kind of evil villain I was dealing with.

  ‘So I thought it was time,’ the marquess continued, ‘for me to come out and personally meet this young lady who seems to have caught everyone’s attention.’

  I waited for more - in vain. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, scrutinising me in silence. It felt like being laid open with a fillet knife. Only instead of a knife, he was using his gaze. And instead of being prepared for roasting, I was being frozen.

  To hell with him! I had survived much, much worse than this old man. Raising my chin, I met his gaze head-on and didn’t blink. Not once. Finally, he narrowed his eyes and, whirling, marched off towards the house. I thought he would leave without a word. But then he stopped next to Mr Ambrose. Without touching or looking at his son, he said:

  ‘Be careful whom you associate with. Even after what you’ve done in the last ten years, the Ambrose name still means something. Be very careful.’

  And he swept off into the house.

  ‘Oh, my dear!’ Before I could even think of moving, Lady Samantha rushed forward, enveloping me in a fluffy hug. ‘I’m so sorry about that! Sometimes he can be a bit…’

  …of an arse?

  ‘…grumpy.’

  Well, that was certainly one way to put it. Sliding my arms around her, I gently patted the little lady’s back.

  ‘Don’t worry. It would take a lot more than that to scare me away.’

  Maybe it was just coincidence - but just at that moment, I happened to look up and, through one of the windows facing the courtyard, high up on the second floor, caught the glimpse of a figure standing half-hidden behind the curtains. A tall, blond figure with aquiline features.

  Lord Dalgliesh smiled at me.

  Quickly, I lowered my gaze and let go of Lady Samantha. Karim, I saw to my intense relief, was already beside me, looking dependably massive and dangerous.

  As soon as her mother let go, Adaira decided that, apparently, she hadn’t had quite enough of hugging yet and came back for seconds.

  ‘He’s watching you,’ she whispered in my ear. ‘Dalgliesh, I mean.’

  ‘I know. Are you sure we shouldn’t tell your parents-’

  ‘No!’ Her grip tightened. ‘All those things you’ve told me about him…’ I felt her give a light shudder. I had not spared her the nasty details of mine and Mr Ambrose’s encounters with Lord Dalgliesh. At least one member of the household needed to know how dangerous he was. ‘They’d never believe it! They’ve had a falling out, true, but still…He’s a peer of the realm!’

  I knew she spoke the truth. Lady Samantha was far too innocent to comprehend the truth. And her husband - he was one of those men who thought being ‘nobility’ really meant that you were noble, in the true sense of the word. There was no convincing him.

  ‘Don’t worry.’ I patted her back before I let go. ‘I’m well-protected, and so are you.’ There were enough people in Mr Ambrose’s employ on t
he estate to keep an eye on us both. Everything was going to be fine.

  ‘Miss Linton?’

  I would have known that voice anywhere. So cold, so hard - and yet there was no way I could ever confuse it with his father’s. Smiling, I looked up at Mr Rikkard Ambrose. With the grace of a gazelle, I dipped into a curtsy.

  ‘Mr Ambrose, Sir?’

  Unfortunately, most gazelles weren’t particularly good at curtsying. But that didn’t seem to bother him. His icy gaze was devouring me from top to bottom.

  ‘Why don’t you come walk with me, Miss Linton? There is something I would like to discuss with you.’

  In the background, I could see Lady Samantha stumble, and nearly swoon with happiness.

  ‘Certainly, Mr Ambrose. Lead the way.’

  He marched me off, and Adaira trailed behind, the dutiful chaperone (or nosy little minx, depending on your perspective). We were hardly out of hearing range before Mr Ambrose hissed: ‘We have a problem!’

  *~*~**~*~*

  ‘When did this happen?’ I whispered, aghast, as I stared down at the bandaged, bruised, unconscious figures of Hastings and the footman.

  ‘Hardly an hour after Karim left to “fetch you”,’ Mr Ambrose retorted, the words like cold shards of ice. That muscle in his jaw was ticking like a time bomb. ‘Dalgliesh must have known all along which of the servants are in my employ.’

  ‘What about the maids?’ I demanded, desperately trying to remember their names. Had I even bothered to ask?

  ‘They’re fine. But what use are they?’ He glanced at me, and I knew what he really meant: How will they be able to protect you?

  ‘They have two pairs of eyes, and two healthy sets of lungs on them. They can watch and, if necessary, bring the house down with their screams.’

  Again, that ticking muscle. ‘Better than nothing, I suppose, but…’

  He glanced at me again. I knew exactly what he was thinking.

  But it would be risky.

  But I wouldn’t be safe.

  But Lord Dalgliesh might get me.

  Or, worse, he might get Mr Ambrose. We held each other’s gaze for a long, long moment.

  ‘Holy hell!’ Suddenly overcome with rage, I slammed a fist into the wall. Rage for him. Rage for me. But, most of all, rage for the two unfortunate souls lying bruised and bandaged in front of us. ‘How was he able to do this? I don’t understand…!’