In the Eye of the Storm

19. True Fake Love

'They're getting close,' Mr Ambrose said, the moment he arrived at our dinner table in the hotel dining room. I had waited in vain for over half an hour before finally ordering my dinner without him. And the knowledge of what he was doing, somewhere in a secluded space with Karim, his other faithful minions and the three ruffians they had captured last night, hadn't exactly improved my appetite.

All of which explained why, when Mr Ambrose said, 'They're getting closer', I snapped in a rather tart voice:

'Oh, are they?'

He didn't even lift an eyebrow. 'Yes. Karim and I questioned them, and it turns out they are indeed in the employ of a certain British lord, just as we suspected.'

'Gosh! What a surprise.'

'Yes. I do not think they've realized who we really are yet, but, to judge by what Karim and I have managed to make the three tell us, they suspect that we are not who we claim to be – which means that we have to put more effort than ever into our disguise.'

'Oh, do we?'

'Yes. We have to be the perfect image of two young and foolish people in the grip of a mixture of the following irrational emotions: devotion, passion, love, yearning, infatuation and attachment.'

Good God! He sounds as if he were compiling a shopping list!

'Didn't you forget amorousness?' I suggested sweetly. 'Also known as "lust"?'

'By all means, add it to the list.'

Bloody hell! Doesn't he even realize that was meant to be sarcastic?

Ignoring the glare I was shooting at him, he took me by the hand and pointed to my still half-filled plate. I had spent the last five minutes shoving the food on it from left to right in a listless manner.

'Are you finished with your dinner, my love?'

'It went cold long before you arrived!' I said, with another meaningful glare.

He apparently was impervious to those. 'I see. How convenient. Then I assume you do not need to eat it. Let's dance. And do your best to arrange your features in a way that suggests ardent devotion, passion, love, yearning, infatuation, attachment and amorousness.'

I raised an eyebrow. 'In that order? Or may I rearrange them alphabetically?'

His dark eyes swept over me, coolly. 'If you wish.'

Gah! He was impossible!

'And what about you?' I asked sweetly, as we rose to our feet and he more or less dragged me to the dance floor that was set up in the next room, accessible through three wide arches. 'Will you, too, be displaying feelings of devotion, passion, love, yearning, infatuation, attachment and amorousness?'

'No. But then, you're the female, so everybody expects you to be the emotional one.'

Oh really? Well, I was certainly feeling quite emotional at the moment! My emotions, however, little resembled devotion, passion, love, yearning, infatuation, attachment or amorousness.

The music started playing, and we started to move. Or rather, he started to move me. After a few moments, he said, so low only I could hear:

'This isn't working.'

'Really? Whatever gave you that idea?'

'The fact that you've stamped on my feet three times already points rather strongly in that direction.'

'Indeed?'

'Yes, indeed. Also, you're glowering at me like a vengeful fury from hell.'

'Ah, you've finally noticed that, have you?'