Storm and Silence (Storm and Silence #1) - Robert Thier Page 0,133

to one of the most wealthy and eminent personages of the British Empire.’

I cleared my throat. ‘Um… do you really think we should waste the valuable time of such a man?’ Cautiously, I started edging backwards. Maria threw me a venomous look. Apparently, she was already determined to conquer the heart of this mighty, mysterious man.

Oh my dear sister, if you only knew…

‘I’m sure he’ll be delighted to meet all of you. Come, come.’ Without further ado, Wilkins took me and Ella by the hand and started leading us towards the windowed front of the ballroom. In his boundless enthusiasm he didn’t even notice that I was digging my heels into the ground and he more or less had to drag me across the ballroom.

Bloody hell! Let go of me! I don’t want to see him! I can’t! Not in a dress! He’ll… Blast, I don’t know what he’s going to do, but he’s going to do something!

But for a weedy man with a flower fixation, Sir Philip was surprisingly strong. In spite of my resistance, I was towed forward.

Others were not so reluctant. Lisbeth, Anne and Maria were giggling and whispering with each other, hard on our heels. Even Ella and Gertrude displayed a modicum of excitement. And as for my aunt… she was practically bursting! Golden coins were shining in her eyes instead of pupils.

‘Please, Sir Philip…’ I tried to wrest my hand from his grip. ‘I would feel embarrassed, meeting such a great man.’

‘Nonsense. Whyever would you?’

Because unlike you, I know what he keeps chained up in his cellar!

‘Because… because I am a very modest person, that’s why! And very shy!’

Turning her head towards me, Ella gave me a look of pure incredulity. She almost forgot to look where she was going and stumbled over the hem of her own dress. I suppose I couldn’t blame her. She was my sister, after all, and knew me well.

‘Oh, if that’s the only reason, you do not need to worry,’ Sir Philip assured me. ‘My friend’s manners are perfectly unassuming and charming.’

What?

I was so surprised by that description that I actually stopped struggling for a moment, and my knightly tugboat was able to drag me the rest of the way.

We arrived at a tightly-packed group of individuals. Mostly they were men - the most expensively dressed men I had ever seen, in midnight-black tailcoats and brilliant waistcoats with golden embroidery. They were centred around somebody we couldn’t see, all talking excitedly.

For one last time I tugged at my hand, desperately trying to get away. But that blasted Wilkins held my hand firmly. There was no escape.

Wilkins tapped the shoulder of one of the men who were barring the way.

‘Would you be so kind as to step aside for a moment, please?’

No! Don’t be kind! Be mean! Be rude, please! Be bloody impertinent and stay where you are!

‘I would like to introduce these ladies to my honoured friend.’

No! Bloody hell, no!

In spite of my internal pleading, the men in front of us parted. Out from between them stepped another man. I blinked in surprise. He was lean and he was tall, just like Mr Ambrose - but there was no way this man could be mistaken for my employer. He had longish blonde hair that was combed back in elegant waves, a slightly curvy, hawk-like nose and light, steel-blue eyes.

Even if all this could have been faked and underneath that inviting exterior somewhere lurked the brooding self I had suspected to find here, there was one characteristic which definitely identified this man as somebody other than Mr Ambrose: he had a broad, inviting smile on his face.

‘Ah, good evening, Wilkins. What a pleasure to see you again.’ The blonde man bowed to Ella’s admirer, who in turn bowed back. ‘And who, if I may ask, are these lovely ladies you have brought with you?’

His voice, too, was nothing like Mr Ambrose's. It sounded smooth and eloquent, like a public speaker who could move whole crowds, or maybe a young, dashing general who by his voice alone could persuade men to follow him into battle. For some reason I felt a blush creep up my cheeks.

‘Of course, where are my manners?’ Wilkins let go of my hand so he could point us out in turn. ‘Lord Dalgliesh, may I present Mrs Brank, Miss Linton, Miss Linton, Miss Linton, Miss Linton, Miss Linton and Miss Linton. Ladies, this is Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh.’

He bowed to each of us in turn, slowly and