Silence Breaking

11. Opposing Armies

'A pleasure to make your acquaintance,' Captain James Carter said, unfolding himself from the coach and bowing deeply to our little group. 'A true plea–'

Then he noticed me.

His mouth dropped open, and he stared at me unblinkingly.

If Mr Ambrose's eyes had been burning into me with icy cold before, it was nothing compared to what they did now. My ears started to heat. Why the heck were my ears turning red? I had done nothing wrong!

Right?

'What's the matter, Carter?' The major chuckled. 'Stunned by the ladies' charms, are you?'

'No. Well...yes, Sir. Of course. But it's not just that.' He cleared his throat. 'I just noticed that I am already acquainted with one of the ladies.' And, right there, under the icy gaze of Mr Rikkard Ambrose, he stepped forward, bent over my hand, and pressed a kiss on its back.

Now it wasn't just Rikkard Ambrose who was boring holes into me with his gaze. I could feel the stares of Lady Adaira, Major Strickland and Lieutenants Woodard, Hartley, Cooley, and McWhat's-his-name on me equally intense, if not nearly as frigid. Only Lady Samantha, I noticed, wasn't watching me. She was watching her son watching me with considerable interest.

'Delighted to see you again, Miss Linton.' Captain Carter's words tore me from my thoughts. 'I've thought of you often since last we met, and I wondered when luck would grant me the chance of renewing our acquaintance.'

Yes, I'd been wondering that, too. And wasn't it just my kind of luck that now and here, in the company of Rikkard Ambrose and his entire family, was the moment it had to happen?

'How do you do, Your Ladyship.' Captain Carter repeated the hand kiss with Mr Ambrose's mother – not a wise move. It suddenly grew even colder outside. If looks could kill, Captain James Carter would be nothing but a skeleton frozen forever in a giant cube of ice. 'Such a pleasure to make your acquaintance. And these lovely people are your family, I presume?'

'My son, Rikkard, and my daughter, Adaira Louise.'

'Charmed.' Once again, he reached for a hand to kiss – that of Mr Rikkard Ambrose's little sister.

Oh God. You're dead. So absolutely, one hundred per cent dead. R.I.P. Captain James Carter.

Miraculously, he was not killed on the spot. Instead, he reached out and took the hand of Rikkard Ambrose. For one horrible, horrendous moment I thought he was going to kiss it, too – then his fingers squeezed in a handshake.

'Such a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr Ambro–'

That was the moment when Mr Ambrose started to squeeze back.

'Nng!'

'Yes.' Mr Ambrose's voice was a soft arctic wind, promising the coming blizzard. 'Such a pleasure. I've snatched glimpses of you from afar, Captain, and have taken the liberty of following your career and interesting exploits. I look forward to our getting to know each other better.'

Never had a death-threat been worded in so gentlemanly a manner.

'Mmmh. Rrrg.' Captain Carter swallowed and squeezed back, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. 'You...have quite a grip, Mr Ambrose.'

'Yes. On everything.'

Abruptly, he let go of Carter's hand, and the captain pulled it back, clearly working hard to resist the urge to cradle it against his chest. Mr Ambrose's gaze swept over the captain's colleagues.

'Greetings, gentlemen. Welcome to my father's home.' And he extended his hand.

The officers took an instinctive step backwards.