I was not, in general, a musical person. The list of my favourite sounds was a rather short one. The screech of my aunt when she discovered a toad in her boot was on that list, along with the triumphal march Patsy had composed for our first suffragist rally. It was horrific enough to nearly split my eardrums, but on the other hand, it had the same effect on the policemen who had been sent to break up our rally. Never had I seen Bobbies run so fast.
Yet among all the different sounds I had heard in my life, there was one that reigned supreme, one that no other could equal: the sound of Mr Rikkard Ambrose's fist smashing into Lord Dalgliesh's jaw.
Stumbling back, Dalgliesh collided with the church wall.
'Jeffreys!' he barked. 'Holliâ'
Abruptly, his voice cut off.
'What's wrong, Dalgliesh?' Slowly starting to circle his enemy, Mr Ambrose raised his fists, ready to strike. 'Forgot to bring your henchmen? Didn't think you'd need them for just one helpless woman?'
'Hey!' I protested. 'Who's helpless?'
They ignored me.
'You?' Steely sparks of hate surged from Dalgliesh's eyes. 'Impossible! How could you have known aboutâ'
Wham!
Mr Ambrose's fist interrupted him mid-sentence. Dalgliesh tried to retaliate, but Mr Ambrose blocked his strike.
'You want to know how he knows about our little meeting?' As fists flew and muscle smashed against muscle, I circled the combatants until I stood behind His Lordship, almost close enough to whisper into his ear. 'Did you really think I'd be dumb enough to come alone?'
'But...but this is impossible! I blackmailed you! I....'
'You made a mistake, Dalgliesh. A big one. You assumed just because you are a distrustful, smarmy little viper, that goes for the rest of the world as well. But, no matter how rich or powerful you are, the two of us,' I nodded at Mr Ambrose, 'have something more precious than your entire fortune: trust.'
Dalgliesh lashed out again. His strike caught Mr Ambrose in the stomach, but instead of buckling over like any normal human, my favourite granite statue didn't even budge. Instead, he smashed his knee into Dalgliesh's side, slamming the peer of the realm against a sandstone buttress. Legs buckling, Dalgliesh sank down the stone wall. Mingled hate and disbelief blazed in his eyes as he stared up at me.
'You...you told him?'
'To paraphrase one of this world's greatest orators: Indeed.'
'You...you stupid littleâ'
But exactly what I was I never found out, because the next moment, Mr Ambrose's arm slammed against his jugular, cutting off his air.
'Rrg!'
'You were saying?' I enquired, sweetly.
'He won't be talking,' Mr Ambrose informed me, his eyes boring into those of his nemesis. 'He'll just be listening. Listening closely.' Ice-cold eyes focused on Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh. 'Your attempt at blackmail has failed. Your little intrigues, your plots, your machinationsâthey stop here and now, or I will destroy you! Do you understand?'
'Yes,' Dalgliesh croaked. 'I understand.'
'Arms behind your head!'
His Lordship did as commandedâfor about a second. When his hand appeared again, metal was wrapped around his clenched fingers.
'Watch out!'
My words didn't come in time.
Wham!
A rough line of red appeared across Mr Ambrose's cheek. Stumbling back, he lost his grip on Dalgliesh.
I moved forward without even thinking. But before I could reach them, Mr Ambrose was already up on his feet again. And that wasn't all. A huge shadow had emerged from behind one of the buttresses, hand on his sabre.
'No, Karim.' Eyes flashing, Mr Ambrose held up a hand. 'Not today.'
'But Sahibâ'
'I said no, Karim. I shall take care of this myself.'
Karim hesitated for just a secondâthen he reached behind his back. When his hand re-emerged, it held Mr Ambrose's walking stick. With one flick of his wrist, he sent it flying. Mr Ambrose caught it in mid-flight.
'Now,' he whispered, eyes as cold as his voice as he focused them on Dalgliesh. 'Shall we settle this like gentlemen?'
'Gentleman? Ha!' Dalgliesh's voice might have been a little hoarse, but it still sounded as contemptuous as ever. 'That's what you call fighting with a stick?' Half turning his head, he spat onto the ground. 'I suppose I shouldn't have expected anything else from someone who loves mingling with proletarian scum.'
'Fine words from a man wearing brass knuckles, Your Lordship.'
'Better metal on your knuckles than dirt on your hands.' Shifting his stance, Dalgliesh threw a venomous look sideways at me. 'Do you have any clue what kind of fool you've chosen for yourself, Miss Linton? Do you really know what a sorry excuse for a man that is?' An ugly slash of a grin flashed on his face. 'I know. I know all about him.'
'Silence!' It was only one word, spoken at average volume. But in the voice of Mr Rikkard Ambrose, it was enough to put fear into a regiment. 'Not another word!' Leaping forward, he swung his walking stick straight at Dalgliesh's head, but His Lordship ducked and retaliated with a right hook. His grin widened.
'Ah. So she doesn't know. What's the matter, Lord Ambrose? Afraid she won't have anything to do with you if she sees you for the menial simpleton you really are?'
Mr Ambrose's teeth clenched tight. Not another word left his mouth. But his hand moved faster than ever, delivering a hard blow to Dalgliesh's chest. It sent him stumbling back, but it by no means shut him up.
'Would you like me to tell you?' he taunted, glancing my way out of the corner of his eye. 'Would you like to hear what really happened?'
Oh yes. I desperately wanted to know. I really, really desperately wanted to know anything and everything about that dark part of Mr Ambrose's past. But I would bite my tongue off before admitting as much to Dalgliesh.
No matter. I didn't have to. He could read it in my eyes. His own sparkled with glee.
'Don't you worry. I'm not like him. I won't hold back on you. I'm gracious and generous. I would only be too happy to enlighten you out of the goodness of my heart.'
A snarl erupted from Mr Ambrose's throat. Leaping forward, he whipped the pommel of his stick towards Dalgliesh's headâand hit only stone. Ducking out of the way, Dalgliesh whirled underneath the stick and danced out of the way.
'It's really a touching story. If only the protagonist weren't so gullible.' He smirked again. 'Years and years ago, when your beloved fiancé, Miss Linton, was still green behind the ears, his family and I lived on neighbouring estates up in the north of England. Our families had a long-standing acquaintance, and when the old marquess didn't show much interest in his young son, it was only natural for the poor, neglected youngster to form a friendship with an older, more experienced neighbour who always was ready to lend a friendly ear.'
'Silence!'
The next strike Mr Ambrose delivered nearly smashed that 'friendly ear' to pieces. Lord Dalgliesh leapt back with, for the first time in quite a while, real apprehension flickering in his eyes. Still, that didn't deter him.
'So,' he continued, his voice lowered to an insidious whisper, 'when the old marquess made some...unwise investments and had to mortgage his property, it was only natural for young Lord Ambrose to turn to his dear old friend. You should have seen it, Miss Linton. It was such a touching scene. The poor boy nearly cried his eyes ouâmmph!'
Mr Ambrose had apparently decided to forego his stick in favour of fists for now. A right hook sank deep into Lord Dalgliesh's stomach. Gasping, Dalgliesh doubled over, providing an excellent target. Mr Ambrose's left fist wasn't one to waste opportunities.
Thud!
Dalgliesh crumpled to the ground.
'Not. Another. Word.'
'What is it?' Pushing himself up, His Lordship smirked up at the man I loved. I felt the sudden, almost irresistible urge to wipe that sneer off his face. 'Afraid she won't have you if she knows the truth?'
Silence.
One long, deafening moment of silence.
Then, almost quicker than I could see, Mr Ambrose's eyes flicked up to stare at meâand they were gone again. But that moment had been enough. I had seen the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, for just one moment.
My God.
He was.
He was afraid.
'What happened?' My voice was no more but a whisper, but Mr Ambrose flinched at the sound. Actually flinched. Smirking even wider, Dalgliesh dragged himself to his feet, supporting himself against the church wall.
'Do you hear that, Your Lordship? Already she trusts me more than you. So much for love.'
'I wasn't talking to you, you worthless piece of scum,' I told him, not taking my eyes off my husband-to-be for a moment. Stepping forward, I placed a hand on his arm. His eyes shot up to meet mine, and I held them, refusing to let them go. To let him go. 'Tell me. What happened?'
Mr Ambrose opened his mouthâbut no sounds came out. Gently, I squeezed his arm, my eyes imploring him.
Tell me. Please.
All I got in response was silence. Silence and, once again, that flicker of fear in his eyes. And suddenly I realized that I had asked him to do the one thing that, during all the time I'd known him, had always been the most difficult for him: speak.
'Don't worry.' Sending all the warmth and love through my eyes that I had in my fiery feminist heart, I squeezed his arm again. 'This is one occasion where time is neither money nor power nor knowledge. Take your time.'
Our eyes held for one long moment. A long moment that didn't go unnoticed by His Lordship.
'He wasn't so tight-lipped when his family's fortune was about to crumble,' Dalgliesh growled. There was no triumph glinting in his eyes now. Only vitriol and pure, undisguised hatred. 'You should have heard him! How he whimpered and cried! So scared he was for his precious family. Like a child who's about to wet himself!'
'I guess you'd know what that's like,' I shot back, my eyes spewing sparks. 'So, what did you do? Throw him out like the heartless worm you are?'
A shadow of his former smirk flickered over Dalgliesh's face. 'Throw him out? On the contrary, Miss Linton! I asked him in, of course, and offered him something to drink. Did you know that, up until then, he'd never had a real drink? A few glasses of wine loosened his tongue easily enough, and soon, the poor boy was pouring his heart out to his dear, dear, friend. What could I do? As the good friend I was, I had only one choice: offer help.'
Oh yes, of course. And my best friend Patsy is a timid little housewife.
'You should have seen his young face light up with joy when I offered to help, Miss Linton.' Placing a hand on his heart, Lord Dalgliesh twisted his face into an expression of nostalgic compassion. 'He practically wept with gratitude, the poor boy.'
Mr Ambrose made an abrupt move forward. Tightening my grip, I clung on to him. Judging by the look in his eyes, letting go right now would not be a good idea.
'I'm sure he did.' My voice was as dry as a sunny day in the Sahara. 'And you were the soul of helpfulness, right?'
'I most certainly was. After all, I was in an excellent position to help. Some new, profitable investment opportunities had just come up, and I let young Rikkard know about them. He was so thrilled! Immediately, he dragged me home to his father to tell him all about the fabulous opportunity. It took some convincing, but eventually the old man let himself be swayed by his dear son. They invested the last of their money into some of my upcoming investments that promised high returns.'
A growl erupted from Mr Ambrose's throat. He started forward, dragging me with him. I just barely managed to cling on.
'Something tells me,' I got out between clenched teeth, 'that promise wasn't kept.'
'Oh, well.' Dalgliesh shrugged. 'It's business. There always is a certain risk involved. Sometimes smaller, sometimes greater.'
'And this one was greater?'
The smile was back on Dalgliesh's face. This time not poisonous, but sick and sweetly. As if his heart was aching, he placed a hand on his chest. 'Trust me, nobody was more surprised than I when those mines I had placed such high hopes on didn't contain any ore. My prospectors had promised me rich returns! And that tea plantation in India...' He shook his lion's mane, sadly. 'It was really a terrible accident that it burned to the ground like that. I remember young Rikkard rushing up to my house, frightened out of his wits by the debt collectors who were about to throw his family out of their house. The poor boy was so sure it was all a mistakeâ'
This time I had no chance of holding back Mr Ambrose. He leapt forward, his fist striking outâbut Dalgliesh had been waiting for it. Deflecting the punch to the side, Dalgliesh grabbed him and punched, hard, sending him staggering back.
'Does it bother you?' he whispered. 'Do you want to keep her from knowing how pathetic you were?'
'Don't listen to him!' I urged. You should be good at that. You never listen to me.
'Oh yes, don't listen to me,' Dalgliesh mocked. 'What do I know? After all, I'm just the man who took away your family fortune, and who'll take yours away as well, leaving all of you as beggars!'
This time, Mr Ambrose didn't retaliate with fists. Instead, he shot back one cold, hard, challenging word. 'Try!'
'Gladly.' He glanced over at me. 'I wonder...once all your businesses have failed and you are utterly ruined, will your dear future wife have to rely on the same methods as your sister?'
Mr Ambrose stiffened. 'What are you talking about?'
Dalgliesh raised an eyebrow and gave an ugly laugh. 'Well, how do you think she supported herself and her family while you were away, gallivanting through the colonies? Of course, I can't be a hundred percent certain. Unfortunately, I wasn't there to see it, but I can imagine just about one single option for a young girl in her situation. I hope the first time wasn't too rough for the poor giâ'
That was it.
Mr Rikkard Ambrose had never been a particularly patient man. Right then and there, he lost what little patience he had left, and any scruples along with it. In a blink, he had drawn the hidden sword from his walking stick. Springing forward, he aimed it straight at Dalgliesh's chest.
Whirling out of the way, Dallgiesh swept aside his tailcoat. Beneath it glinted something metallic.
'Watch out!'
This time, my warning arrived in time. When Lord Dalgliesh's sabre appeared in his hand, Mr Ambrose was ready. His blade came up to deflect Dalgliesh's first blow. Then a second. Then a third.
'What's the matter?' I hissed. 'Why isn't he attacking?'
Karim's hand went to the grip of his weapon. 'Dalgliesh is better armed. He has a sabre, long and sturdy. All the Sahib has is a slender cane-sword. It doesn't have nearly the reach of Dalgliesh's weapon!'
'Meaning?'
'Meaning that if he tries to attack, he'll get his hand cut off!'
'Oh.'
Something to be avoided, if possible. I was rather fond of Mr Ambrose's hands.
Karim seemed to agree. Drawing his own sabre, he took a step towards Mr Ambrose.
'Menâadvance!'
A barked command from the bodyguard, and a dozen men appeared from where they'd been hiding between the buttresses of the church and the reverend's rose bushes. I smiled. Mr Ambrose's auxiliary wedding guests had arrived. Determinedly, they moved towards Dalgliesh and encircled him. The peer's eyes flickered from left to right uneasily, assessing the situation.
'No!' Mr Ambrose bit out.
Wait, what?
His men froze. So did Karim. 'Pardon, Sahib?'
'I told you, Karim, do not interfere! I will handle this on my own.'
'But Sahibâ'
'Do as I command!''
No! Don't do as he commands! He's an idiot!
Reluctantly, the Mohammedan withdrew.
Damn! Why does he have to be so bloody loyal?
A blade flashed. My eyes flew back to the two combatants. Lord Dalgliesh had used the distraction of Karim to lunge forwardâbut Mr Ambrose had been watching. With an agility I would never have expected from a granite statue, he leapt aside and Dalgliesh's blade stabbed into empty air. Striking out, he slapped Dalgiesh's blade aside and delivered a cut that nearly shaved the peer's nose off.
'I'm going to kill you!' he hissed.
'Why? Because of what I said about your darling little sister?' Dalgliesh's mouth curved into an ugly grin. 'Now, now, Lord Ambrose. I'd never have thought you'd have such a hot temper.'
'Look into my eyes. Do you see heat?'
Unable to resist, I did as he commandedâas did Dalgliesh. And he'd been right. There was no heat within his eyes, only cold, hard, unrelenting rage. It was true what they saidârevenge was a dish best served cold. And Rikkard Ambrose was the perfect waiter for the job.
With renewed ferocity, Mr Ambrose threw himself into the combat. He slashed and parried and stabbedâbut all in vain. Were the two men equal in regards to skill? I had no way of knowing. All I knew for certain was that Dalgliesh's sabre was a darn sight bigger than the slim blade that fit into Mr Ambrose's walking cane. I watched as my husband-to-be was slowly driven back, and once again a malevolent grin spread across Dalgliesh's face.
If only there was something I could do!
Oh. Right.
There was.
Slipping my hand into my pocket, I pulled out my revolver, took aim, and shot Lord Dalgliesh in the leg.
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My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,
In the last author's note, I promised it. And this time, I'm going to deliver. Here is the blurb for the coming Storm & Silence spin-off "Lord Day and Lady Night":
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The rich. The powerful. Those are the men Amy has always despised, because the only thing they've ever done is use her.
So...what is she doing with him?
Lord Patrick Day, descendant of a noble line, with enough arrogance for ten kings and the looks to go with it, is exactly the kind of man Amy hates the most. And yet, now he is the only hope she has.
A sinister conspiracy. A young woman, hurt and broken. And a powerful man, who was never, ever meant to be with the likes of her. Together, can they take on the darkest depths of the London underworld?
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So there you have it! The new heroine in the spin-off will be our favorite Lady of the Night! And if you thought Lilly was tough heroine determined to get her way, just you wait till we delve into the shadows of nighttime nineteenth-century London!
Looking forward to the new adventure?
Yours Truly
Sir Rob