'...and half the village girls seem to want to be your flower girl. With the way things are going, you'll either end up with a flower brigade, or no flowers at all, because they'll strangle each other fighting for the privilege. I think the best way to settle the matter is—Lilly! Lilly, are you listening?'

'Hm? What?'

'Now, really!' Adaira shook her head. 'I know you have no problems at all with having your bevy of friends and sisters take care of the finer details, but you need to listen now and again. Tomorrow is your wedding day! What could possibly be more important than that?'

How about making sure I live long enough to see it?

Tomorrow might be the day of my wedding—but today was the day of battle. Today, I had a rendezvous with my blackmailer.

'Adaira?'

'Yes? Have you made a decision about the flower girl?'

'No. We'll have to postpone that discussion. I need to take a short walk.'

'A walk? Unless you mean one down the aisle, I hope you're joking. Do you know how many things there are still to take care of? Your little antics in the village yesterday might have been nice and wonderful and charitable, but they also meant that the good reverend has been flooded with offers and gifts and God only knows what else. It didn't exactly help that you ended the picnic by inviting the entire village to the wedding! We have to—'

'Adaira? Not now.'

She must have heard something in my voice, because she lowered the list of chores in her hands and looked at me.

'Lilly? Is everything all right?'

'Not entirely.' I gave her a smile that was neither very joyful nor very amused. 'I have a little matter to take care of.'

Please don't ask what. Please.

She studied my face—and then once again proved what a fabulous friend she was. 'Can I help in any way?'

'No. I can handle the matter.'

She gave me another long look—then nodded. 'All right. If you need me, I'll be behind the manor house, testing candidates for the post of flower girl.'

My brow furrowed. 'How do you judge someone's capability as a flower girl?'

A grin flashed across her face. 'You give a group of girls a bunch of flowers. The ones who can hit your aunt and twin sisters most often get the job.'

'Adaira? If I ever get the chance, I'll force my dear future husband to make you the head of his personnel department.'

Leaving my capable friend and future sister in charge of flower ballistics, I returned to my room. Not that I'd spent much time there, particularly during the night, but I had thought it prudent to obtain a room of my own, if only to keep poor Lady Samantha from suffering a coronary. Plus, having a room that was off-limits to anybody else did have some additional advantages.

Striding over to the bedside table, I pulled open the top drawer and withdrew my trusty revolver. It had seen me through many a dangerous adventure. All I could do was hope that today would be no different.

'My Lady?'

A knock came from the door. Hurriedly, I slid the revolver into the folds of my dress, for the first time in a long time thankful for the bulky garments I was forced to wear.

'Yes?'

Benson entered and performed a perfect bow. 'His Lordship's, um...auxiliary wedding guests have arrived.'

'Excellent!'

The butler shifted, as if he wasn't quite of the same opinion. 'I, um, have provided the new guests with quarters in the barn and stables, as requested, and have not told the staff about their presence. Are you sure you would like these, rather, um...well-armed gentlemen to be here during the ceremony?'

'Very sure.'

These people had to stay out of everyone's sight as much as humanly possible.

Striding towards Benson, I placed a reassuring hand on the old man's shoulder. 'Don't worry. Everything is going to be all right.'

A pained expression flickered across the butler's face. 'I've had to quarter guests in the stables, My Lady. Without offering them so much as a cup of tea. My world isn't going to be all right for quite some time.'

'The sacrifice will be worth it. Trust me.'

At least if today goes as planned.

Today.

The day of my meeting with Dalgliesh.

Leaving the butler to suffer in silence, I made my way downstairs. The entrance hall was completely empty and silent. No one, particularly not Mr Ambrose, was anywhere in sight. Only from the back of the house, where things were being set up for the wedding reception, could I hear the chatter of voices, the rustling of tent cloth and the clinking of cutlery. Good. Everything was going as planned. Nobody would try to stop me, or interfere with my—

'What are you doing here, girl?'

I turned and...

I blinked.

Was I hallucinating? Was I dreaming? Or was this truly my Uncle Bufford stepping out of the shadows?

'Uncle?' I had almost forgotten he was here, so well had he managed to stay out of sight. 'What are you doing there?'

'Hiding!' he grumbled into his beard. 'I was in my room minding my own various businesses, just like every day, when suddenly, this female called Parsley stormed in and—'

'Patsy, Uncle. Patsy. She's been my best friend for years.'

'Yes, Parsley, just like I said. She stormed into my room and demanded that I...,' his beard trembled in outrage, '...that I help create flower decorations.'

'How shocking.'

'I know! And she would not leave, not even when I threatened her with trespassing charges.'

I resisted the urge to pat him on the shoulder. 'That might have worked better if you'd been at your own home instead of staying at someone else's place.'

Uncle Bufford's beard bristled. From what little I could see of his face, he was scowling. 'Don't remind me, girl! Next time you want to get married, do not invite me.'

'Next time?' One corner of my mouth quirked up. 'You think I intend to make a habit out of it?'

'Hm.' He scrutinized me from beneath his bushy eyebrows, with far more acuity than suited me right at the moment. 'I don't know. Are you?'

'What do you mean?'

'What I mean, girl, is that you don't exactly look like a happy, carefree, silly little bride engaging in fantastical flights of fancy about unrealistic future happiness.'

'What do you mean?' I did my best to conjure a blissful smile onto my face. 'I'm happy! Of course I am happy!'

'What's with that grimace? Have you got constipation?'

'That's a smile!'

'It is?' He took a step towards me—then, suddenly, with far more agility than I'd expected from the old bear, his hand shot out and slid into the folds of my bustle.

'Uncle!'

'And I suppose this is supposed to be a bouquet of roses?' Raising an eyebrow, he lifted my revolver. 'Interesting floral arrangements they do for weddings nowadays. Perhaps I should take part in making the flower decorations after all.'

'Give it back!'

Ignoring me completely, he flipped open the chamber and, with a practised hand, rolled the barrel, checking each chamber. The snap as the barrel flipped back in place sounded very, very final. He lifted his gaze to mine.

'What have you gotten yourself mixed up in, girl?'

No, no, no! He couldn't get dragged into this! Not Uncle Bufford! Not the only remaining older family member that I...that I...

That I liked?

I liked Uncle Bufford!

I liked Uncle Bufford!

Good God, was there no end to my life being turned upside down? First an engagement, then blackmail, and now this?

I batted my eyelashes up at him, giving him my best imitation of an innocent smile. 'I suppose it wouldn't do any good if I told you I was going rabbit-hunting because my dear fiancé refuses to provide meat for the wedding feast?'

'No.'

Crap! 'Why not?' I raised my chin. 'He's at least as stingy as you!'

'Your husband-to-be is indeed surprisingly economical. So economical, in fact, that, the servants tell me, they've emptied the forests of all rabbits, deer, and other edibles to fill their bellies during the last few years.'

'Oh.'

Fixing me with two sharp, beady eyes, my uncle shuffled a step forward.

'What is going on?'

'I, um, well—'

'Stop right there! Swallow whatever lie you were about to spout and tell me the truth.'

Damn! How the heck did he know me so well? Most of my childhood, he'd spent locked in his room a storey above me, for heaven's sake!

On the other hand, his house did have flimsy walls.

'Uncle...'

'I'm listening.'

'Do you remember those...activities I once told you about?'

'You mean the activities that resulted in you mysteriously receiving money during the last two years or so?'

'Yes.'

A pause.

'Did you ever wonder what I did? What I still do?'

'Well...at first I thought you'd found yourself a nice fellow to keep your wallet filled. But then—'

'Yes?'

'Then I met your fiancé.'

'Ah.'

'Besides...' He cocked his head and looked straight at me. Straight into my eyes. Something which, I realized, I had never really seen him do. Oh, he'd glance at me or my aunt every now and then, to check whether his barked command had sent us scurrying out of the room or if we needed additional discouragement. But look at a female, directly? Ha! Not ever.

Now he looked, though. He looked straight at me. At an equal.

'Besides...it wouldn't fit. You're not the kind of girl to sit around idly and let a man take care of things.'

I felt warmth swell in my heart. 'Well...you're right. It has nothing to do with a man.' Unless you count Mr Victor Linton. 'I've found...other means of acquiring funds. But those means... Things haven't gone quite as expected.' My expression darkened. 'There are a few people who aren't particularly fond of me, and one of them...'

I let my voice trail off. I had already said too much.

Uncle Bufford's eyebrows abruptly drew together until they formed one single continuous line across his forehead. A line you could have hidden a badger in.

'Are you in trouble, girl?'

It was worse than I'd thought. I didn't just like Uncle Bufford. He liked me. And he cared about me!

Oh crap.

I swallowed. 'Yes.'

'What?' His eyes flicked down to my belly region. 'You—!'

'Not that kind of trouble, Uncle!'

'Hm. Well...' He glanced down at the gun in his hand. 'I suppose you wouldn't need bullets for such a matter.'

There was a long moment of silence.

'Uncle?'

'Yes, girl?'

'Time is of the essence. I need to go.'

He held my gaze for a second. No more, no less.

'You can handle this on your own?'

'Yes,' I lied.

'Hm. Well...then you'll need this.'

With an entirely too well-practised move, he flipped the revolver around and handed it to me grip-first. I stared at him.

'What are you waiting for, girl? Take it!'

Dazed, I did as he said. My hand closed around the butt of the gun—and swift as a flash, his gnarled old fingers captured mine, holding me in place.

'I'll be expecting you tomorrow at ten a.m. sharp for a short walk down a certain aisle. Don't you dare get yourself killed.'

One corner of my mouth curled up. 'I promise.'

I only hoped that was a promise I was going to be able to keep. Giving my uncle a last nod, I turned and, pushing open the door, headed out into the open. It was a beautiful day outside. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the worms were wriggling in the ground. Except for one particularly nasty worm, that is. My gaze drifted over to the spire of the church, high above the village.

Well, Lilly...Aunt Brank always said you should go to church more often. Here's your chance.

Sliding the revolver back into my dress, I set out down the road towards the village. Getting to the church was quite a bit harder than I had imagined. Back in London, nobody ever gave me a second glance. But here... Men in the fields bowed and waved their hats as I passed. Women rushed out of their cottages to offer me drinks, snacks and more curtsies than could be good for their knee joints. I only got away by agreeing to come to lunch. At twelve different cottages. On the same day. Apparently, I would have to add astral body projection to my rapidly growing list of talents.

Finally, I stepped out from between the last houses and found the church towering above me. In the early morning sun, it cast a long shadow over the reverend's rose garden.

A shadow that I somehow really didn't want to enter.

But then...you love being contrary, don't you?

Squaring my shoulders, I took a deep breath and headed straight into the darkness. Slowly, I followed the same path around the church I had gone down a few days ago, keeping a close eye on the alcoves between the buttresses. I had no intention of letting myself be taken by surprise again. The time when I would let Lord Dalgliesh play his games with me was over. I would—

'Good morning, Miss Linton.'

I whirled.

There he was! Not in an alcove. A small side-door had opened, revealing the tall form and sharp, aquiline face that had plagued me and Mr Ambrose for the last few years. His gaze bored into me as he took a step closer. I retreated away from him, deeper into the shadows. His face twisted into a smirk.

'Running already?'

Not exactly...

I took another step backward, forcing him to follow me around the corner—which, coincidentally, meant we were out of sight of the village.

'Running is no good. You know very well who is in charge here.'

It took quite a lot of effort not to smile. 'Yes. I do.'

'So?' he demanded. Steel-blue eyes pinned me to the spot. 'Have you decided whether or not to comply with my demands?'

I nodded. 'Indeed I have. But I think I can't quite find a way to put my decision into words.' I gestured to behind His Lordship. 'So I'll let him explain.'

'Him?' Frowning, Dalgliesh started to turn. 'Who—'

That was the moment when a strong hand grabbed him from behind and whirled him around. An instant later, Mr Rikkard Ambrose's fist connected soundly with his face.

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My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

Wham! I never before enjoyed writing about a character getting punched in the face so much. Are you in agreemnt?

In latest news, I'm delighted to hear you're already so excited about the spin-off! Today, as promised, comes the next revelation: the cover of "Lord Day and Lady Night":

I hope you like it! Coming next...the blurb, and revelation of the main character! Are you looking forward to it?

Yours Truly

Sir Rob