Storm and Silence (Storm and Silence #1) - Robert Thier Page 0,138

I really wished that inner voice of mine would shut up!

My eyes flicked from her to Mr Ambrose and back again. Could he… could they be…? No. They couldn’t be, could they?

Mr Ambrose strode over to Lady Metcalf, who stood at the edge of the crowd, gaping at him in a rather unladylike manner. In this, I noticed, she was mimicked by almost every female in the room. Blast! Why did that annoy me so much?

He made a quick, curt bow.

‘Please forgive this intrusion, My Lady. I changed my mind about not accepting your most recent invitation. I hope I’m not too late and that the ball hasn't already started?’

Since the floor full of frozen dancers around him made it quite blatantly obvious that the dance had indeed started, this remark was rather redundant. It was also as impolite as one could get. Colour rose to Lady Metcalf’s cheeks. Her mouth closed. And opened. And closed again.

Was she thinking of letting her servants chase him out with hunting crops? That’s what she would have done if I or anyone else had pulled off something like this. But Mr Rikkard Ambrose wasn’t just anyone.

‘N-no, of course not, Mr Ambrose.’

My mouth dropped open. The voice coming out of Lady Metcalf’s mouth wasn’t the usual vulture’s croak. It was soft, uncertain, almost demure. Under Mr Ambrose’s cold gaze, she lowered her eyes.

Good God! Is she possessed or something?

‘Of course we haven’t started yet, Mr Ambrose. You’ve come just at the right time. May I introduce you to my family?’

‘You may,’ Mr Ambrose granted with infinite generosity.

The raven-haired beauty stepped up beside him.

No… not raven-haired. Crow-haired! She’s a crow! She’s just the sort to pick at rotting carcasses. She’s probably just waiting to sink her beak into Mr Ambrose.

She smiled. And it was an artificial smile that didn’t reach her eyes. I knew it! I knew she couldn’t be trusted. You could never trust females - they were so bloody conniving! Apart from unfortunate young secretaries and other kinds of feminists, of course.

She directed her smile at him, and he, although he didn’t smile, nodded graciously. More graciously than he had ever nodded at me.

A thousand questions buzzed through my head. Who was she? Why was she here? Why had he brought her? Was she rich? Was he in love with her? Were they engaged? And most important of all, why the blazes were all of my questions about her?

I forced my eyes back to Mr Ambrose. It was him I should be concerned about.

Should be.

But wasn’t.

I was concerned about her. Or, more specifically, her and him in combination.

My eyes snapped back to her. Heat welled up inside me. The heat of some dark unnamed emotion. Was it possible to want to claw a stranger’s eyes out? Well, people said there was such a thing as love at first sight. Why not hate at first sight, then?

‘Um, Miss Linton? My hand, if you please?’

Blinking in surprise, so suddenly ripped from my thoughts, I looked up at Lord Dalgliesh, then down at his hand, which I was clenching so tightly that it was white from lack of blood. I let go as if I had burned myself. ‘Oh, excuse me!’

‘No matter,’ he said, took his other hand off my arm and stepped back from me. His attention seemed to be on something else. He was looking towards the two newcomers.

Well, if he wasn’t interested in me any longer, all the better. Quickly, I stepped back and ducked into the crowd.

Just in time: Mr Ambrose had spotted Lord Dalgliesh.

There was a moment suspended in time. The two men’s eyes met, and it was as if they were two lions meeting at a Sahara watering hole. They were the kings, the rest of us were just so many zebras and antelopes.

Mr Ambrose prowled forward. Lord Dalgliesh, ignoring Lady Metcalf, who was still trying to engage the newcomers’ attention, shook out his mane of golden hair and started to advance as well. People in their way stood aside hastily, as if they felt the tension in the air. I certainly did.

Finally, they stood facing each other. I watched from behind the shoulder of a bulky military gentleman who didn’t realise he was being used as cover.

The two of them stared at one another, waiting for the other to bow first. After seemingly endless seconds, they both inclined their heads about half an inch, at the same instant.

‘Lord Dalgliesh,’ Mr Ambrose said.

‘Lord Ambrose,’ Lord Dalgliesh said.

A shiver went down