Chapter 33: 33. Strip without the Tease

'Gah!'

Dalgliesh collapsed onto his knees with a garbled yelp—but he was still holding his sword. So, for good measure, I shot him in the other leg, too. He keeled over forward, and landed face-first in the dirt with a very satisfying thud.

Everything and everyone was silent for a long, long moment. Then Mr Rikkard Ambrose turned to me, his dark, sea-coloured eyes unreadable and yet so transparent. A shiver travelled down my spine.

'What?' I shrugged. 'Don't look at me like that. You told Karim not to interfere, not me.'

There was another moment of silence—then he dropped his sword onto the ground, strode over to me, grabbed my face and planted a fierce, hard kiss on my mouth.

'My little—'

'—gunslinger?' I suggested, blinking up at him innocently.

A growl erupted from the back of his throat and, grabbing hold of me once more, he reclaimed my mouth. Apparently, he very much appreciated my good aim. I would have to do some more target shooting.

Well, time to show him a gun wasn't all I was good at aiming. My hand, hidden between us, slide down his chest until it reached a...certain place.

'M-Miss Linton!'

'I know.' I whispered, smiling invitingly. 'Behind a church. Scandalous, isn't it? But honestly, if we send Karim away, who on earth is going to interrupt us?'

My question was rather abruptly answered a moment later when we heard swift footsteps approaching. Instinctively, I jumped back, putting a good bit of distance between myself and Mr Ambrose. A wise decision as it turned out when, after a second or two, puffing and panting, the reverend rushed around the corner of the church.

'What's going on here? I thought I heard a gunsho—oh my goodness gracious!'

Eyes wide with shock, the vicar rushed forward to where the prone form of Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh lay unconscious on the ground. I guess in the excitement of kissing my fiancé, I'd forgotten the little detail that I'd just shot a man. A fact that boded rather well for our marriage, in my opinion. Swiftly, the vicar knelt beside His Lordship. I, however, was more interested in the figure who had appeared from around the corner behind him.

'Jenny?' I demanded, my eyebrows shooting up. This was even more interesting than Lord Dalgliesh possibly kicking the bucket. 'What are you doing here?'

'I, um...'

Jenny bit her lower lip—and then, she glanced at the vicar, and blushed. Blushed!

A grin spread across my face. Dear me. I was looking forward to hearing Amy's reaction to this.

The vicar, meanwhile, seemed to be unaware of the romantic atmosphere in the air, probably because of the bleeding soon-to-be corpse on the ground. Leaning over His Lordship, the reverend turned him over so he could see the wounds—then groaned and swayed. Apparently, he liked his red roses much better than red blood splatter.

'The Lord be merciful! What happened to him?'

'He, um....err...we found him like that. He, err...was in a duel! Yes, exactly.' I nodded energetically. 'Before he passed out, he told us he was here to fight a duel.'

'A duel? But duels are fought with single-shot pistols. He has bullets in both legs! What monster of a man would do that to the poor soul?'

'Um...' I cleared my throat. 'I can't imagine any man would do such a thing.'

'Your kind heart becomes you, Miss Linton. But there are men in this world more evil than you can imagine.' He glanced around. 'Quick, someone! Help me carry him into the vicarage!'

'What?' Mr Ambrose demanded. He sounded as if he'd just been asked to carry a stinking cadaver into his dining room.

'Well, we can't very well leave him here, My Lord, can we?'

Mr Ambrose opened his mouth—probably to say that yes, we could indeed—when my foot lashed out and slammed into his shin.

'Ow!'

'Of course we can't, reverend.' The big smile on my face cost me quite a bit of effort, but somehow I managed.

'Exactly,' Jenny stepped forward, giving me a very searching look I tried to avoid. 'After all, we have a duty to care for those who've met with unfortunate accidents, right?'

Gratefully, the reverend beamed up at me, then his smile travelled on to Jenny, and became a veritable shining lighthouse. His eyes misted over as he looked up at her. 'Exactly the attitude I expected from pure angels of mercy such as yourselves. Can one of these gentlemen please help me?' Slipping his hands under Dalgliesh's arms, he looked over to where Mr Ambrose's men stood gathered. With an expression on his face as if he was being forced to swallow raw onions whole, Karim stepped forward, grabbed Dalgliesh's feet and jerked them upward. A groan escaped from His Lordship's lips.

'Careful!' the reverend urged. 'I think you're hurting him.'

'You don't say?' Karim growled, and tugged harder at the legs, eliciting another groan. 'How unfortunate.'

With Karim striding ahead and the reverend stumbling after him, Dalgliesh was transported more or less speedily towards the vicarage. Now and again, Karim's long strides proved to be a bit too much for the poor vicar, and Dalgliesh ended up in the middle of an impromptu tug of war.

'Would you be so kind as to slow down a little?' the reverend panted. 'Or we might end up tearing the poor man apart!'

'We might?' Karim hopefully enquired, and immediately sped up.

Just then, Jenny appeared beside me, leaning towards me. 'What's goin' on?'

'Err...we found him like that after a duel?'

It sounded more like a question than a statement.

Jenny gave me a look. 'I've mucked out enough stables in me life to know bullshit when I 'ear it.'

'Ehem. Perhaps you should believe it anyway?'

'Why?'

'Plausible deniability.'

'Hm...' She considered that for a moment—then grinned, and nodded. 'Makes sense. Need any 'elp?'

'Um...perhaps you could help the vicar take care of that man? I think if I ended up having to do it, Mr Ambrose would level the vicarage to the ground.'

'We can't 'ave dat, now, can we?' Eyes sparkling, Jenny's eyes focused on the vicar. 'Hm...bein' an angel of mercy, eh? Yep, I think I could do dat. Would fit very nicely in my plans.'

Deep inside, I felt pity for the poor man. He had no idea what—or rather who—was coming for him.

As we approached the vicarage, the door was pulled open and an elderly woman—the reverend's housekeeper, I surmised, peeked out. 'What's all this noise about? Reverend, if I told you once I told you a thousand times, you mustn't overexert yourself. It's not health—Jesus, Maria and Joseph! What happened to him, poor man?'

'No time for explanations!' the vicar panted. 'Let's get him inside. Where's the doctor?'

'He hasn't arrived from town yet. But he should come in the next hour or so.'

'No!' The poor vicar gazed down at the limp form of Dalgliesh with despair. 'What shall we do?'

'Let him bleed to death?' Karim suggested.

Fortunately, the vicar missed that particular remark.

'Is there anyone who has any experience with treating wounds here? Anyone?' he glanced around from one of us to the next. 'Lord Ambrose? You sir? You? Miss Linton?'

He looked at me with big, pleading eyes. He looked so hopeful. So certain that this new angel of mercy, Miss Lillian Linton, who had come to fix everything that was wrong in his parish, could fix this problem as well...

Crap!

'Get him inside! I'll take care of this.'

'You will what?' Mr Ambrose stared at me as if I'd just announced I had purple melons for hands.

I shrugged. 'I patched you up once, didn't I? It won't be perfect, but it'll hold until the doctor comes.' If we're unlucky, that is.

'Wonderful! Simply wonderful! I knew I could count on you, Miss Linton.' Beaming, the vicar patted me on the back—then quickly snatched his hand back as his remaining arm sagged under Dalgliesh's weight, and His Lordship's head soundly collided with the beam of the doorframe. 'Quickly! Let's get him inside. The good Lord won't forget this, Miss Linton. He'll bless you for your charitable heart.'

Oh, he will, will he? I glanced over at Mr Ambrose. I only wish my fiancé had similar feelings.

'Come on!' the vicar nodded to Karim. 'Let's go!'

And he started inside. Karim followed, taking care to knock Dalgliesh's head against the doorframe again.

'Where should we put him?' I enquired.

'The compost heap?' suggested Karim, who seemed to be full of good ideas today.

'My bed! It's in the bedroom down the hall, come on!'

They moved down the corridor, this time the vicar moving faster and Karim lagging. He still seemed to be holding out hope that the reverend would change his mind and head to the compost heap. As a result of the differing velocities, Dalgiesh's butt was sweeping the floor. I committed the sight to memory. Even if the bastard survived the night, at least I would always have this.

'Mrs Wright, open the door please!' the vicar called to his housekeeper. Hurrying forward, the old woman did as commanded. 'Let's get him on the bed, and be careful, please.'

'Certainly,' Karim agreed, raised the limp form of Dalgliesh above the reverend's bed and gently rammed his head against the headboard.

'Stand back, please.' I shooed the two of them away, and they moved back, watching intently, as if I were a miracle worker about to perform a miraculous healing any minute now.

'Karim? A knife!'

The Mohammedan reached into his coat and withdrew an object that looked like a cross between a sabre and a meat cleaver.

'Err...something smaller perhaps?'

Grunting, he shoved his hand into his coat again. When it resurfaced, he was holding four different knives of various sizes. The vicar gulped and took a step backwards.

'Thank you.' I plucked one of the more normal-sized weapons from the bodyguard's hand. 'That should do nicely.'

'What do you plan to do with it?' Karim demanded.

'Yes,' came a cool voice from behind me. 'I'd like to know that, too.'

I was very careful not to turn around. Probably best, considering what I was about to do.

'This,' I said, grabbing Lord Dalgliesh's left trouser leg and slitting it open up to the knee.

The vicar gave squeaky little croak. 'Miss Linton!'

From Mr Ambrose came an even more interesting sound. Something between the crack of splitting stone and the growl of a jealous lion.

'Oh, put a sock in it, will you?' I leaned forward and was just about to go to work when Mr Ambrose unfroze and his hand lashed out, closing around my wrist.

'Over my dead body!' a deliciously threatening voice hissed into my ear.

'What did you say, Mr Ambrose?' the vicar enquired.

'I said this is going to be bloody,' Mr Ambrose lied without the least bit of hesitation. 'And Miss Linton is sensitive to blood.'

'Oh, of course!' The reverend shook his head. 'I should have thought of that! A delicate lady such as yourself...'

I was just about to explain how 'delicate' I was, exactly, when Jenny stepped forward. 'Let me do it.'

'Really, Miss Jenny?' The vicar's eyes shone.

'Of course. I get to see plenty of blood at least once a month.'

'Oh! Do you volunteer in a charity hospital?'

Jenny smiled demurely. 'Something of the kind.'

'Amazing! Your heartfelt sympathy and piety are truly touching!'

'Why, thank you.' A pretty blush rising to her cheeks, she approached the prone form of Dalgliesh.

'Be gentle, now,' I told her, and winked. 'We wouldn't want him to get unnecessarily hurt, or, God forbid, feel any pain, now, would we?'

'Oh...?' One of her eyebrows rose. 'So, that's how it is?' A sweet smile spread across her face as she gazed down at Dalgliesh. 'Don't you worry. He's in the best of hands with me.'

And with that, she grabbed Dalgliesh's mangled leg and turned it ninety degrees with a jerk.

Knack!

Blood splattered across the bed. Mrs Wright screeched and rushed out of the room. The vicar fainted dead away, keeling over backwards and hitting the floor with a thud.

Karim and Mr Ambrose exchanged a look.

'Can we dispose of Dalgliesh now, Sahib?' Karim enquired.

'So,' Jenny concluded with admirable deductive skills, 'I guess dis fellow ain't a friend of yours?'

For one long moment, Mr Ambrose's icy gaze fully focused on her. 'Most. Certainly. Not.'

Behind me, the reverend groaned and twisted on the ground. Jenny glanced down at him. 'Hm. He's coming round. I think whatever plans ye've got for da blond twit, it'll 'ave to wait.'

'Agreed. Karim, open those drawers! See if you can find me some sheets to serve as bandages.'

Mr Ambrose took a step forward. 'You're not seriously suggesting that we—'

'Oh, I am,' I cut him off determinedly, 'We're going to keep him from bleeding out. As you may remember, it was my humble self who had the brilliant idea of firing on him. I doubt he'll admit to being shot by a woman if he survives. But, as vindictive as he is, he'll probably manage a deathbed accusation if we let him bleed out. So we'd better keep him from kicking the bucket. Unless, of course, you'd like me to be brought up on murder charges?'

'I have significant influence over parts of the judicial system. I would say that there is a seventy-five per cent chance I could get you acquitted, if the evidence is merely circumstantial.'

'Thanks so much. I think I prefer my way.'

Grabbing the sheets from the hands of a reluctant Karim, I started ripping them and handing the bits to Jenny, who presumed to wrap them tightly around Dalgliesh's legs.

'Dis makes an interestin' change.' She grinned. 'Normally, I take da clothes off people, not da other way round.'

It didn't take long to patch Dalgliesh up. And if, in the process, we happened to knot his legs together and tie him to the bedposts, it was a mere coincidence. Finally, the man Mr Ambrose had sent up the road to fetch the doctor returned, huffing and puffing.

'The doctor is just at Mrs Delaney's, Sir! He's making sure the children are all right, then he'll be over here directly.'

I nodded. 'Good.'

Mr Ambrose looked as if he'd choose a different word for it.

'What are we going to do?' he hissed. 'We intended to deal with Dalgliesh here, today. If he gets back to his private army...'

He left the sentence hanging in the air, looking as if that was where he'd like to leave Dalgliesh hanging, too, dangling from a noose.

'We'll have to see.' I glanced at the door. 'Let's get the doctor in here. Let's make sure he orders a long bedrest. That'll give us a bit of time to work with.'

He looked deep into my eyes. 'And what are we going to do with that time, Miss Linton? He knows about your...twin brother. And he's not simply going to sit on that information and do nothing with it. He's going to use it to hurt us. To hurt you.'

Swallowing, I reached out to touch his face. 'But...I thought you didn't mind. Not anymore.'

A muscle in his jaw twitched. 'I don't. But the rest of the world might.'

'What about me,' I told him, unable to suppress a smile, 'gives you the idea that I give a flying fig what the world thinks of me?'

'Adequate point. Still...'

'Yes.' I nodded. 'Still.'

I knew what he meant. If Lord Dalgliesh revealed what he knew about me, my life would never be the same again. And neither, although he was very careful not to mention it, would Mr Ambrose's. When we'd first met and he'd categorically refused to accept me as a female secretary, he'd had his reasons. Infuriating, chauvinistic reasons, perhaps, but reasons nonetheless. His business would be hurt by the truth. He would be hurt. And while he might be willing to risk that, I was not.

Besides...

My achievements were mine. I wouldn't allow Dalgliesh to twist them for his own purposes. If one day I decided to reveal my true identity to the world, it would be on my terms, for my own reasons, to my own ends. I would not be blackmailed!

Blackmailed...

Like a lightning bolt, an idea flashed in my head—burning with brilliance and evil genius. Slowly, a grin spread across my face.

I was just about to open my mouth when I heard the faint squeak of the door from the corridor, followed by the housekeeper's voice.

'Hello, Doctor...yes, right through here...'

'Quick!' I gestured at Karim. 'Get out there and stall him!'

Karim blinked. 'Stall? You...you mean the doctor? How?'

'I don't know! Growl at him! Recite love poems! Throw furniture around! Anything!'

An unfamiliar expression appeared on Karim's wooden visage. It looked almost like...anticipation? 'Anything?'

'Yes, anything!'

He bowed. 'Your wish is my command, Sahiba.'

And he dashed out of the room.

The moment the door had closed behind him, I rushed over to Dalgliesh's side, flung open his tailcoat and thrust my hands into his shirt. Behind me, I could feel Mr Ambrose's cold gaze trying to freeze the back of my neck.

'Miss Linton! What do you think you are doing?'

'Searching for something! Anything! Dalgliesh wasn't expecting to be taken by surprise, and he certainly wasn't expecting to be captured.'

'He's not captured! He's a guest in the vicarage, thanks to you.'

'As long as we two are the only conscious ones in the room, what's the difference? He came here, expecting to be in a position of advantage. He's arrogant. Over-confident. Maybe he has something with him that we can use. Anything!'

I delved further into Dalgliesh's pockets, unearthing a snuffbox, a wallet, a watch, various knick-knacks...but nothing of consequence. Outside, the voices were coming closer fast.

'Help me!' I shot Mr Ambrose a look. 'Now!'

'You want me to help you feel up—'

'Move!'

The look he sent me before marching over to me made it clear I was going to pay for this later.

'Don't you start! Faster!'

Grudgingly, he did what I said. I followed suit, touching more parts of Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh than I had ever wanted to in my entire life. Still, there was nothing worthwhile. The voices outside were coming closer and closer with every moment. My hands sped up, flying over Dalgliesh's trousers, his shirt, his—

Wait a minute!

My hand froze.

'There! Do you feel that? Something hard!'

'Miss Linton!'

'Not that kind of something hard! Hand me a knife, will you?'

'Most gladly.'

He handed me one of the knives Karim had pulled out earlier. I noticed it was one of the larger and more gruesome ones. Grabbing hold of it, I slashed, alas, not at Lord Dalgliesh's hard appendage, but at his shirt. The material parted like paper beneath the sharp blade, and something shiny appeared.

'A secret pocket!'

Reaching inside, I grabbed the shiny something and pulled. Out came a steely silver key ring, from which dangled at least a dozen keys. And not your average house keys used to lock your least favourite relative in the broom closet, either. The bits of the keys were complex labyrinths of metal, whispering of secrets hidden in the dark.

Secrets I intended to uncover.

At the sight of the key ring, Mr Ambrose's eyes glinted. 'That...'

'What? You know what that's for?'

'I have my suspicions. And if it leads where I think it does....'

The look in his eyes said it all.

Suddenly, from outside, I heard the sound of footsteps coming down the corridor.

'Quick!'

Pulling Lord Dalgliesh's shirt straight, I tugged the covers up to his ears to hide the tears and slits in his clothes. I stepped back—then hesitated. Quickly, I stepped forward and tweaked his nose, once, hard. Yes! A dream fulfilled, a wonderful memory created! Grinning, I stepped back again, just in time.

Behind me, the door swung open and the doctor rushed in. I turned to meet him with a smile, hiding my secret stash behind my back.

'Welcome, Doctor! So glad you could join us.'

'It's my pleasure, Miss...?'

'Linton, Sir. Lilly Linton. And this is my fiancé, Lord Rikkard Ambrose.'

'My Lord.' The doctor bowed. 'Let me assure you I shall do my very best to take care of your friend.'

'You have no idea,' Mr Rikkard Ambrose told him, his eyes glacial, 'how much I appreciate that.'

'Excellent. Let's start, shall we?' Stepping into the room, the doctor glanced down at the vicar who, apparently, was still lying unconscious on the floor. A fact that I probably should have paid more attention to before now.

'Ah. Is that the patient?'

'Err...no.' I cleared my throat. 'He just keeled over because of the real one.' I jabbed my thumb at the bed. 'The bloody one.'

'Intriguing.' Raising an eyebrow, the doctor stepped over to Dalgliesh's side and put down his black bag. 'It's not every day an unconscious patient manages to knock somebody else unconscious. Let's see...'

'Please, give him plenty of laudanum, Doctor, will you.' I put on the most sympathetic expression I could manage. 'Let's not make him suffer.' And let's knock him out as long as possible.

The doctor gave me a warm smile. 'I shall give him an extra dose. You're a compassionate woman, Miss Linton.'

Oh yes, I always make sure to medicate people after shooting them. 'Thank you, Doctor. I...I have to go now. The repairs in the village are by no means finished.'

'But...wait.' He glanced down at the vicar's prone form. 'Who will take care of the reverend? I can't look after two people at once. Not with one of them bleeding so profusely. Someone else must—'

'I'll do it.' Beaming like an angel of mercy with expensive lingerie, Jenny leaned downward and stroked the vicar's cheek. ''e'll be in good 'ands with me. I'll take care of 'im.'

'That's wonderful, Miss! I'm sure he'll appreciate it.'

'Oh...' Her smile widened. 'I'll make sure of that.'

Mr Ambrose took that opportunity to grab my arm and drag me out of the room. Probably a good idea, all things considered. In my opinion, we had urgent things to take care of—and he seemed to agree. The moment the door had closed behind him, he whirled to face one of his men waiting outside in the corridor.

'Where is Dalgliesh staying?'

The man snapped to attention. 'We observed him leaving a manor house in the vicinity. It is located—'

'—to the south, outside down the road to Cornwall, right?'

The man's eyebrows shot up. 'H-how did you know?'

I wanted to know the answer to that particular question myself.

'What's this about?' I demanded.

'This isn't the place for such a discussion.' Taking hold of my arm again, he manoeuvred me down the corridor. I allowed it, for now. We didn't have any time to waste. Only once we'd reached a secluded alcove did I dig my heels in.

'So, tell me? What's the matter? That look in your eyes...Do you know something I don't?'

'Indeed.'

My eyes narrowed. 'What?'

'Many things. But one matter in particular.' His eyes sparkled with ice-cold anticipation. 'For a while now, I've been suspecting that Dalgliesh is hiding something big. Not his usual criminal activities that are easily enough hidden, but something political. Something that could crack the very base of his power.'

My eyes flared in answer to his. 'And you think that inside that manor Dalgliesh has been frequenting...?'

'Indeed. According to my spy's reports, there we shall find his darkest secret.'

'Then why haven't you gone in there yet to...oh.' Understanding flashing in my eyes, my gaze dropped to the ring of keys in my hand. Then, slowly, they rose to meet Mr Ambrose's glacial gaze and I offered the keys to him, hanging from an outstretched finger.

'Fancy an early wedding gift, my dear?'

A cold gleam appeared in Mr Rikkard Ambrose's eyes and he grabbed hold of my face.

'Miss Linton?'

'Yes?'

'I feel intense, irrational affection for you.'

'Sir, you have such a romantic way of phrasing things.'

'Let's take a little trip, shall we?' Picking the keys from my hand, Mr Ambrose held them aloft. 'I feel a sudden desire to take a ride with my bride!'

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

My dear Lords, Ladies & Gentlemen,

All those of you who like crime shows are probably already familiar with this, but just in case you're not familiar with the term, plausible deniability is a very useful legal expression, meaning that one cannot be charged with a crime because one had no knowledge or responsibility for it. I have used it many times myself in cases I can't really talk about because I don't know what happened... ;-)

Yours Truly

Sir Rob