Storm and Silence (Storm and Silence #1) - Robert Thier Page 0,197

It was such an unusual thing for him to do that it made me come out of my little protective corner of warmth and turn towards him. But he had turned away from me and was looking out of the chaise window. For a minute or two he didn’t say anything. I had almost opened my mouth to ask once again when he suddenly began:

‘When I spoke to you at the ball - you remember, when we were dancing?’

‘Oh yes, I remember.’ I suppressed a snort. Rotating around the ballroom with the granite statue of London’s richest businessman holding me close - I wasn’t about to forget that in a hurry! It surely had to have been one of the most awkward moments of my life. And yet, I realized suddenly, in retrospect, a moment oddly dear to me. Strange.

‘When I first saw you at the ball, I was… quite disturbed.’ His jaw twitched, betraying the roiling tension under his stony fa?ade. ‘To see you like that, so feminine and vulnerable, in the same room as him, the very man I had tried to keep you away from as much as possible - it was… not pleasant.’

He paused for a moment, then continued.

‘Why were you there? I had no idea, and the question didn’t stop hounding me. I decided I had to get you alone, to find out how much you knew - get you to leave, if possible. So I asked you to dance and struck up a conversation. And then you told me that you knew why I was attending the ball.’

He shook his head.

‘I would never have thought that you would guess Lord Dalgliesh’s involvement in this dark affair and my resulting interest in him. It meant that you were in considerably greater danger than I had previously imagined. I was starting to run through emergency plans, when you continued to speak, and I realized that you thought I was there not for Lord Dalgliesh but for Miss Hamilton.’ He gave a derisive noise that made it quite clear how absurd he thought such an idea. ‘I was… quite relieved.’

‘You still haven’t answered my question! Why pretend to be in love with Miss Hamilton, Sir?’ Nobody would be able to accuse me of not being focused on my target.

‘I am coming to that, Mr Linton,’ he snapped.

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Don’t interrupt me again!’

‘No, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.’

I waited.

He took a deep breath.

‘As soon as I realized your misconception, my mind was dominated by the thought of trying to keep you from realizing the true reason for my presence. I could only keep you out of the path of danger by keeping you from seeing the true identity of my enemy. The best way I could think of doing that was to further foster your fallacy and pretend a romantic interest in Miss Hamilton.’

‘Oh.’

I thought for a moment, then asked: ‘And why did you want to keep me out of danger so badly?’

Immediately as I spoke the question, I saw the answer. Holding a hand up I said: ‘No, don't bother to answer that. It was because I’m a girl, because I am weak and I have no business meddling in men’s affairs, right?’

He hesitated, his face still turned towards the window, away from me, so I couldn’t read his expression. What did it matter? He never had one, anyway.

‘Yes. Yes, Mr Linton. That was the only reason.’

‘I see. Well, let me tell you, you didn’t do a very good job. Pretending to be in love, I mean. I could see right through you!’

He turned then and looked at me.

‘Could you indeed? Can you?’

‘Yes!’ I flushed. ‘Of course I could! It was obvious you weren’t interested. She’s such a boring, superficial creature.’

‘Oh really? Some men might find her quite charming.’

‘Nonsense! Did you hear her conversations at the ball? All she talked about was dresses and dancing and the right way to hold fans! She has nothing in her head but stale air and dead flies!’

Mr Ambrose shrugged.

‘What of it? Some men prefer their brides unintelligent. After all, women are supposed to do housework and little else. You do not need much intelligence for that.’

‘Only stupid men would want stupid wives! Marriage is supposed to be a union between two equals who love and support each other, not a master-slave relationship in which the man commands a docile woman.’

‘There’s something to be said for docile women.’ He leaned forward, spearing me with his dark gaze. ‘They don't argue with you, for