Storm and Silence (Storm and Silence #1) - Robert Thier Page 0,173

me over his shoulder and dragging me to the nearest altar. ‘Um… not really. We aren’t really quite that far in our relationship.’

Damn right you aren’t! For example, you’ll first have to get an actual relationship! One that involves more than me carrying around files and jumping at his every command, that is!

‘But if he asked you,’ Ella insisted, clearly determined to get an answer, her eyes looking large and forlorn, ‘would you run away with him?’

Unbidden, the image of Mr Ambrose slinging me over his shoulder shoved its way back into my thoughts. Of course we wouldn’t embark on our elopement in a comfortable coach - a chaise would have to do, if we wouldn’t walk. Real carriages were, after all, much too expensive. And we wouldn’t get married by special license either, for that cost money, too. Once we had gotten married in some country church by a young priest who didn’t ask too much of a fee, we would return to London and spend our honeymoon sorting through the business correspondence that had arrived in our absence.

I shook my head at the absurd image, and a smile crept onto my lips.

‘Of course.’ The words had slipped out before I had even noticed. ‘Of course I would run away with him.’

God! This was taking the convincing lying a bit far, wasn’t it? After all, I wanted to dissuade her from eloping, not encourage her! What was I doing?

I was of course being sarcastic and insincere, but Ella couldn’t know that, the poor girl! Somehow, when I spouted that outrageous lie just now, I had managed to make my voice sound horribly convincing!

‘Oh.’ Ella’s shoulders slumped and she looked even more lost than before. I had been right. She had been looking for advice on her own situation, and this obviously hadn’t been the answer she had been expecting. She had probably expected words of caution from her big sister.

‘That doesn't mean that you should, though,’ I added hastily. ‘If you ever were in that kind of situation, I mean, hypothetically. What I would do isn’t necessarily the best thing. You know I’m a reckless maniac who should probably be locked up for her own safety.’

‘Oh, Lill!’ Ella tried her best but couldn’t keep a smile off her face. ‘You shouldn’t say such things!’

‘Why not, if they make you smile?’ I teased and drew her closer towards me. ‘Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. Everything will be just fine.’

I was really an excellent liar. Later, when I lay in bed and watched Ella sleep with a peaceful smile on her face, I wondered how I had managed to give her so much reassurance. I certainly didn’t feel sure of myself or of my ability to help her. The unknown date when she would forever be snatched away from me was drawing closer.

What… what if I simply talked with her about it? Tried to talk her out of it?

But then I remembered the fire in her eyes when she had looked at Edmund, and I knew that talking wouldn’t do any good. It might only serve to destroy her trust in me. I only had one chance: find a way to get rid of Wilkins before it was too late! And I would do so, and I would make Mr Ambrose fully accept me, and the day after tomorrow I would challenge British chauvinism and demonstrate for women’s suffrage with my friends at the chauvinists’ convention in Hyde Park. I had a lot of obstacles in my way, but none of them were going to stop me! Least of all a certain detestable, handsome, rich businessman!

*~*~**~*~*

Taking a deep breath, I walked down the hallway. In passing, I nodded to Mr Stone.

‘Good morning, Mr Stone.

He smiled and nodded back at me.

‘Good morning, Mr Linton.’

For a moment I hesitated, wondering whether I should enter my own office, not that of Mr Ambrose. His words rang through my mind again: I shall simply have to find another method to… persuade you.

No matter how morbidly curious a part of me might be, I didn’t want to find out what that meant. I wasn’t suicidal.

Don’t be a chicken, Lilly! You know it’s far better to face his next attack head-on. If you don’t come directly into his office, he’s bound to see it as another attempt at time-wasting.

So I squared my shoulders, marched past Mr Stone’s desk and pushed open the door to Mr Ambrose’s office, ready for whatever might await me.

‘Ah, Mr Linton, there