Silence No More

20. The Labours of Lillian

"I have decided on the perfect competition, and it is...a hunt!"

Once more I heard a snort from beside me, although it was better concealed this time.

"You hear that, my Hercules?" a devil's whisper entered my ears. "Time to hunt the Nemean Lion for me."

"You'll be lucky if I don't sic a lion on you, you devious vixen, you!" I hissed out of the corner of my mouth.

But before I could go looking for a zoo to make good on that very reasonable threat, the marquess continued.

"Actually, it was your sister who gave me the idea, Mr Linton."

It was? Damn that stupid little—oh wait. That's my alter ego.

"Really?" I enquired, trying my best to plaster a smile on my face. Only, I didn't seem to have any plaster left. My supply had long run out.

"Yes. Your sister's recent little...confrontation with His Excellency the Vicomte drew my attention to the vicomte's excellent hunting skills, Mister Linton. So I wished to see them first-hand, and discover whether you can match them. What do you say to that?"

"It would be an honour, Your Lordship," the vicomte answered before I could get a single world out.

Bloody French git!

"Yes," I agreed while trying my best to keep a fake smile on my face. "Such an honour. I would love to display my hunting skills." ...non-existent as they may be. Especially if it's your head I get to mount over my mantelpiece.

"Excellent!" The marquess nodded, obviously delighted with his genius plan of determining who best to sell his only daughter to. "Then, what type of hunt should we stage? Any suggestions?"

Mr Ambrose opened his mouth.

Led by my wifely intuition, I stomped down on his foot, hard. "If you are about to suggest a treasure hunt," I hissed, "don't!"

"It would be a perfectly reasonable suggestion," came his whispered answer.

"And also one your father would approve of?"

That made him fall quiet. And not in the usual way he seemed to enjoy so very much. As for me? I was silently chanting a mantra in my mind.

Please let it be a tortoise hunt! Please let it be a tortoise hunt! Please let it be a tortoise hunt!

What? Don't look at me like that! I'd never been on a hunt before, and tortoises were nice and slow. Plus, while at any other time, I didn't mind shooting things—or people, if they were annoying enough—I was not looking forward to chasing some pesky animal through the forest only a week or so after giving birth.

Please be a tortoise hunt! Please be a tortoi—

"How about a fox hunt," Adaira piped up.

I closed my eyes. Leaning over towards her, I lowered my voice. "Adaira?"

"Yes?"

"I'm going to strangle you!"

"Hey! That's spousal abuse! Or at least it will be soon."

My eyebrows twitched. "Fox hunt? Really?"

"Well..." She gave me a wink. "I do need a new scarf."

"You...!"

At that moment, we all were interrupted by a dry cough. Looking up, I saw the hunched figure of Fersby standing in the corner. How the heck had he gotten there without passing us on the stairs? Butler teleportation?