Had Mr Ambrose and I been arguing? I suddenly couldn't remember or care. That one word, that name, tipped the whole world on its head. Our eyes met, and it was as if our disagreement had never existed. Suddenly, Mr Rikkard Ambrose and I were on the same team, and we would fight fiercely till the end.

The end of anyone who was against us.

Oh Lilly, a voice whispered in my head. It doesn't really matter whether you want to bind yourself to him or not. You already are. And you don't even want to get free.

Squashing that rogue thought with all my might, I stepped up beside Mr Ambrose and took his hand. He gave mine a squeeze, and I squeezed back. No words were spoken – and yet, for once, I knew exactly what he was thinking.

I turned to the man who had come to warn us. 'Fetch Karim. Tell him to come quickly and... no. No, don't tell him that.' An idea popped into my head and, suddenly, insanely, I had to smile. 'Tell him it wasn't me who invented Prince Fragrant Yellow Flower in the Happy Moonlight – but I know who did, and I might be willing to tell him.'

The man blinked at me. 'P-pardon, Miss? Prince who?' His gaze flickered to Mr Ambrose in an are-you-sure-she-has-all-of-her-marbles way.

He returned the man's gaze with implacable force.

'Do as she says.'

The man paled, turned on his heels and dashed off through the snow. Glancing over at me, Mr Ambrose cocked his head. 'I believe Karim will be coming to meet us very quickly indeed.'

'Yes, Sir. I believe he will, too.'

'You have learned quite a lot about how to handle a man.'

'Indeed I have, Sir.' Smiling, I lifted one eyebrow at him. 'And don't you forget it.'

He gave me a long, long look. 'I shall endeavour not to.'

Mr Rikkard Ambrose extended his arm to me like the perfect gentleman he would never be.

'Shall we?'

Without thinking twice about it, I slipped my arm into his.

'We shall.'

And we set out towards the house, leaving behind a sad pile of snow, an old top hat and a half-eaten carrot. As we proceeded along the garden path, more people joined us. Men of all sizes and ages, but all with the same hard, sharp, sensible look in their eyes – a look that I had seen every time I looked at one of Mr Ambrose's hired guards. Halfway to the house, a big shadow rushed out from behind a hedge and planted himself in front of me.

'Who?' Karim demanded. 'Who was it that brought shame upon me? Whoever it was, I shall rip them apart! I shall fight them to the death and then I shall take their dead body and–'

Further description of what the poor, unsuspecting bodyguard intended to do with his employer's little sister was cut off by one of Mr Ambrose's trademark arctic stares.

'Not now, Karim.'

'But Sahib, the insult to my honour–'

'–will still be just as insulting in an hour or two. There is not time right now. Dalgliesh is here.'

Karim had just been about to open his mouth to protest again – but at hearing that, he shut up. His hand shot to the sabre at his belt, and his eyes turned into slits. I had a feeling that whatever he had planned for the inventor of Prince Fragrant Yellow Flower in the Happy Moonlight, it was nothing compared to what he'd like to do to Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh.

We didn't enter the house through the usual back door. With as many as there were of us, it would have taken ages for us to file inside. Mr Ambrose unlocked the French windows on the terrace, and his small private army marched into the beautiful drawing room, sticking out like a forest of sore thumbs.

'Where exactly did you get those keys?' I enquired. 'Did your father give them to you?'

His face was a mask. 'I like to be prepared for every eventuality.'

'Dear me! Copying your own relative's keys? I'm shocked!'

And I was. Shocked that I hadn't thought of the idea first. Once I got home, I would have to see how I could get my hands on Aunt Brank's key ring. That could come in handy.

We moved through the house at a swift pace, our circle of guards never loosening or falling behind. Just as we stepped into the entrance hall, a door at the other side of the hall opened and Adaira, accompanied by her mother and a few curious guests, stepped out to meet us.

'Ah, Rick! There you are.' Lady Samantha looked very relieved. 'Have you heard?'

'Yes.' Mr Ambrose's voice was cold enough to freeze a desert at noon. 'One of our guests has seen fit to return.'

'Indeed.' Lady Samantha glanced away. 'I will be welcoming him. Will you come with me?'

'Yes.' His gaze slid over to Adaira. 'But she won't.'

His little sister's spine stiffened as if strapped to a posing stand.

'I won't stay behind! I'm not a child, and I won't be treated as though–'

A normal older brother might have taken this opportunity to point out that yes, she was indeed a child, which would lead to further denial and an eventual row that would rock the walls of the house. Mr Ambrose just snapped his fingers, and a contingent of his guards formed a line in front of Adaira, keeping her from going anywhere unless she wanted to ram head first into her brother's hirelings.

'I'm going to get you for this!' came a determined, if muffled, voice from behind a wall of muscle. 'Just you wait!'

Ignoring his little sister completely, Mr Ambrose turned towards the front doors and started forward. I followed suit, nearly running to keep pace with his long strides. Out of the corner of his sea-coloured eyes, he glanced down at me.

'I suppose I can't talk you out of accompanying me?'

'No.'

'And if I order my men to keep you here, along with my sister?'

'Then I will find a way to let Her Majesty's Treasury know about some of your more creative bookkeeping methods.'

He made a not-very-polite noise in the back of his throat. I smiled up at him broadly. 'Either you let me go with you, or you're not going at all. It's your choice.

Another indistinct noise. Then...

'All right, Miss Linton. Let's go. Karim?'

'The men are ready, Sahib. Nothing will happen.'

'That had better be true.'

We stepped outside onto the porch just in time to see a magnificent coach drawn by four beautiful white horses rolling down the driveway. It was accompanied by a small cavalcade of horsemen, dressed in luxurious livery. The whole scene screamed 'fairytale prince' – until the coach rolled to a halt, the door opened, and Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh stepped out. The servants dismounted. Under their tailcoats, I saw the brief glint of sabres and pistols.

Karim gave a discreet hand signal. Without any of the guests or Lady Samantha noticing, Mr Ambrose's guards moved closer, placing themselves halfway between us and His Lordship.

With long, leisurely strides, Lord Dalgliesh crossed the snow-covered ground between us. He was smiling and didn't even seem to notice the tension in the air – unless you took a good look deep into his eyes. They coldly assessed the situation, sweeping over Mr Ambrose and his mother, me and Karim as if we were just pawns on a chessboard. His gaze lingered for a second on me, and I could feel Mr Ambrose stiffen at my side – then it continued on, to take in the many men in badly fitting livery that were scattered all around us, watching the scene with emotionless professionalism.

'My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen.' Lord Dalgliesh bowed, his eyes never dipping a millimetre, staying focused on Mr Ambrose and his men. 'I am delighted to see you all again. My sincerest apologies, Marchioness, for my delay in returning to your lovely home.'

'Your apology is accepted.' Lady Samantha nodded graciously. 'However, may I ask why you left in the first place? Your departure was rather sudden and unexpected.'

'I'm truly sorry.' His eyes flicked to me for just an instant. 'I had some business to take care of.'

'I see. Well, I am..." Lady Samantha searched for the right word – but she didn't find one, so she went with a wrong one. "...glad that you could rejoin us for Christmas. The great ball is this evening, and some of us were beginning to fear you would miss it.'

Again, Dalgliesh's steel-blue eyes flickered to me, boring into me like diamond drills – then they swept to my left and right, where there stood at least a dozen men, their hands casually hidden under their jackets, no doubt holding deadly weapons. They didn't take their eyes off His Lordship for one moment.

'I am afraid I must disappoint you in that regard, Your Ladyship.'

'You must?' Lady Samantha had never sounded so happy to be disappointed.

'Yes. The business I was speaking of...' Once more, he speared me with his gaze. I ignored him. 'It did not go entirely as expected. There are unforeseen difficulties. I will have to return to London, to develop a new strategy.' He smiled, and it was deadly smile, meant solely for me and Mr Ambrose. 'What is it they say? Patience is a virtue.'

To me, it didn't sound like a virtue just then. It sounded very much like a threat.

'Well...' Lady Samantha cleared her throat. 'I wish you the best of luck with your business, Your Lordship.'

Thanks so much. I appreciate you wanting me to get kidnapped by a psychopath, Your Ladyship.

'Thank you.' Lord Dalgliesh made a deep bow, a smile twisting one corner of his mouth. 'You don't know how much that means to me. I so very much look forward to being a guest in your beautiful home again at some point in the future. I will do everything in my power to ensure that day comes soon.'

With those words hanging darkly and ominously in the air, he turned around and strode back to his coach. One of his henchmen opened the door for him. He climbed in. The coachman cracked his whip. Just as I was about to relax, Lord Dalgliesh leaned out of the window, catching my eye. Almost imperceptibly, he lowered his head in a mocking little bow. The gesture needed no translation.

Till next time.

As he withdrew and the coach rolled away down the driveway, I couldn't suppress an involuntary shudder.

*~*~**~*~*

Sighing, I closed the door of my room behind me and leaned against it. He was gone! Finally, he was out of sight and out of mind!

All right, it wasn't over yet, not by a long shot. Dalgliesh would be planning his next grand move at some time in the future, now that he knew I was Mr Ambrose's weak spot. I would have to be prepared. Still, for now at least, I would have a little peace.

Not that Mr Rikkard Ambrose took so cheerful a view of things.

'The guards are staying,' he'd told me in an undertone while we were watching His Lordship's carriage drive away. 'This might be a ploy to lull us into a false sense of security.'

I had tried to argue with him a little bit, just for the fun of it – but in truth, I could have sung with joy! The guards were staying? Did this mean that he still cared, even after I'd turned him down? Did it?

Or was it just that he didn't want to lose to Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh?

Right now, I couldn't find the energy to care! Lord Dalgliesh was gone, and Mr Ambrose wasn't going anywhere. I would have plenty of time to figure out what was going on between the two of us. With a tired sigh, I tottered over to the bed and sank down on it. Time for a little break. After all, there was no hurry. Most of my problems were over, and the ones that weren't could wait for a little while, right?

Wrong.

In that exact instant, the door burst open and a dervish danced into the room. A dervish that looked suspiciously like Lady Adaira Louise Jannet Melanie Georgette Ambrose. She made a last whirl and then came to a stop in front of my bed, beaming down at me.

'Isn't this just fantabulous? Dalgliesh is gone! Really, absolutely one hundred per cent gone! And Mother has given me carte blanche! Oh, we're going to have so much fun!'

'Fun?' I blinked up at her. 'Fun with what?'

'With finding the right dress for you to wear! After all, you want to look your best for the ball tonight, don't you? For the ball, and...' She winked. She winked! '...and for my brother?'

Oh blast!

Groaning, I sank back onto my pillow. My problems weren't over. They were just beginning.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

Time for Adaira to start scheming! ;) Are you all looking forward to the big ball?

Oh, and by the way - in case you're wondering what the posing stand mentioned in the above chapter is: back in the Victorian Era there were no cell phone cameras that could take photographs with just one easy click. Cameras were in a very early stage of development, and instead of one quick flash, the exposure of a photograph could sometimes take minutes, or in very early cases even hours. This led to the invention of the posing stand, a wooden construction with straps attached to which people were strapped in order to help them stand in a certain pose for a long, long time.  

Yours Truly

Sir Rob (trying on his best tailcoat and bow-tie for the big occasion)