Storm and Silence (Storm and Silence #1) - Robert Thier Page 0,46

and bit off a piece.

Aaaaah. This stuff was bliss. It seemed to fill me with peace and shoo all my worries away for a little while. The fellow who invented this should really be included in the next year’s honours list. It showed that men were good for something after all.

Chewing my chocolate bar, I watched the dances from the shadow of the potted plants. Ella seemed to be doing well, if only because, unlike me, she had no problems being steered around by a man. Anne and Maria were dancing considerably less elegantly, watching their little sister with envy instead of their own feet with care. My aunt was happy in the arms of a portly admiral. Even when the first dance ended, she didn’t come to look for me, preferring rather to watch Ella and Sir Philip. It looked like for the moment I was safe. Maybe I wouldn’t need to stab anyone with a fan after all.

I smiled to myself. What was I really worrying about? Even if my aunt wished me to dance, first a man would have to ask me. By all accounts, that was extremely unlikely. Both she and my beloved twin sisters, kind and caring family that they were, had assured me on numerous occasions how thoroughly unattractive I was to men, with my tanned skin, wild hair and wilder manners. Apparently, according to the fashion of the day I was more likely to be taken for a fishmonger’s daughter or maybe a female gorilla in a dress, than a lady men would actually be interested in, which suited me perfectly. Closing my eyes, I leaned back and popped another piece of chocolate in my mouth.

Hmm…

Just leaning back and thinking of nothing… It was so relaxing. Maybe I could sit out the entire ball like this. I mean, why would anybody come here, into this secluded corner behind the potted plants? I could just sit and wait until we went home, eating chocolate. That wouldn’t be so bad. And then the awful evening would be over, and then…

Then it would be morning again.

A familiar face appeared in front of my mind’s eye. It would be morning, and I would have to go to work.

Blast! Why did I have to think about him now, when I had just achieved a measure of peace and managed to forget all about the existence of the overbearing, annoying and infuriating species known as ‘men’ for a couple of minutes?

But the more I tried to force his image from my mind, the clearer it appeared: his stark, angular features, his typical look of cool disinterest and, most of all, those dark, sea-coloured eyes that seemed like pearls from a bottomless ocean. Seeing all the opulent splendour surrounding Sir Philip Wilkins, I could not help but wonder why Mr Ambrose, who was supposedly one of the richest men in London, spent his days in an office with bare stone walls. I also couldn’t help wonder where he had gotten his money from, if indeed he was as rich as Maria had claimed. He didn’t seem to me like a wealthy landowner, not at all the sort of man to fit into London’s high society.

For a moment, I amused myself with the thought of how he would act if he were here. I couldn’t help but smile. He’d stick out like a shark in a flock of peacocks.

Then, suddenly, I was jerked out of my thoughts by the most unlikely thing imaginable. A voice beside me. A man’s voice. A man’s voice asking, in a calm, polite tone: ‘Miss Linton? Will you do me the honour of dancing with me?’

Practicing Impertinence

My eyes flew open, and I looked up to see an upright, elderly military gentleman with an enormous moustache standing before me. Not Mr Ambrose. Definitely not. It was Colonel Remington, one of the many captains and colonels Sir Philip had introduced me to.

And why the heck had I been thinking of Mr Ambrose? He wasn’t even here!

The Colonel cleared his throat. Maybe he thought I hadn’t heard him.

‘Will you do me the honour of dancing with me, Miss Linton?’ he repeated.

‘Err… no,’ I said.

He turned a bit red in the face, and went away, looking rather affronted.

Hm… Perhaps that had not quite been according to etiquette? I racked my brains, trying to remember my aunt’s lessons. Hadn’t there been something about a lady never being allowed to refuse a dance unless she had already promised it to another gentleman?