Silence Breaking

34. Dalgliesh

Light sparkled. Tiny little points of light, getting bigger, then smaller, then bigger again. I wouldn't have minded – it might even have looked nice – if every single one of them hadn't stabbed me in the head like a red hot needle.

'Aaargh...Ouww...'

'Ah. I believe our guest is ready to join us in the land of the conscious.'

That voice... that cultural, slightly amused, deadly voice...

I knew it.

If only I could remember...if only someone would help me...

A bucket of water splashed into my face.

Ah. Thanks for the help.

'Pppft!'

Spewing water in all directions, I shook my head.

'Now, really, Brewer,' came that cultured, sleek voice again. 'Is that any way to treat a lady?'

'She's a lady, Sir?'

'Most assuredly. And, though this might not be apparent at first sight, a very important one. Isn't that right, Miss Linton?'

Pushing my wet hair out of my eyes, I raised my head and gazed up at the smiling face of Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh.

'I guess that depends on your definition of "important".'

My gaze wandered to Mabel, who was standing behind his Lordship, looking by no means as cowed as she had in the presence of Rikkard Ambrose. I stared at her, my eyes narrowing to slits.

'Why?' I demanded.

She shrugged. 'Dalgliesh pays better.'

Of course.

I loved Mr Rikkard Ambrose. I truly did. But right then and there, I could have strangled him until every last drop of stinginess was squeezed out of his miserably marvellous body!

'Ah, yes.' Turning, His Lordship pulled a pouch out of his pocket. It clinked in a very valuable way as it dropped into the maid's open hand. 'Your last payment. That should be enough to get you established in the colonies and make a very nice dowry.'

'Judas,' I muttered.

Half-turning to me, Lord Dalgliesh lifted an eyebrow. 'Hardly. That's gold, not silver.'

Mabel, the traitor, made a deep curtsy and hurried towards the door. Just before she stepped outside, I spoke.

'Mabel?'

She stopped in the doorway. 'Yes?'

'What I told you...'

'Yes?'

'It was a lie.' I fixed her with my coldest imitation-Ambrose stare. 'His bite is worse than his bark. Far, far worse.'

Hurriedly, she swept out of the room. But just before she did, I could see a flash of fear spark in her eyes.

Good! She should be afraid. She should be terrified.

Because at least then I won't be the only one.

Slowly, Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh turned towards me and gave me his most brilliant, charming, shiny smile. It didn't make me feel any better. Apart from me, there was only one other person in his room: Thomas Brewer, his 'footman', who was standing at the door in a pose that looked suspiciously soldierly. No one else was in sight. Not a soul could help me. My hands tensed, curling into fists around the edges of the cot I was sitting on.