Page 162 of Storm of Bells
No matter. I didn’t have to. He could read itin my eyes. His own sparkled with glee.
‘Don’t you worry. I’m not like him. I won’thold back on you. I’m gracious and generous. I would only be toohappy 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 towardsDalgliesh’s head—and hit only stone. Ducking out of the way,Dalgliesh whirled underneath the stick and danced out of theway.
‘It’s really a touching story. If only theprotagonist weren’t so gullible.’ He smirked again. ‘Years andyears ago, when your beloved fiancé, Miss Linton, was still greenbehind the ears, his family and I lived on neighbouring estates upin the north of England. Our families had a long-standingacquaintance, and when the old marquess didn’t show much interestin his young son, it was only natural for the poor, neglectedyoungster to form a friendship with an older, more experiencedneighbour who always was ready to lend a friendly ear.’
‘Silence!’
The next strike Mr Ambrose delivered nearlysmashed that ‘friendly ear’ to pieces. Lord Dalgliesh leapt backwith, for the first time in quite a while, real apprehensionflickering in his eyes. Still, that didn’t deter him.
‘So,’ he continued, his voice lowered to aninsidious whisper, ‘when the old marquess made some…unwiseinvestments and had to mortgage his property, it was only naturalfor young Lord Ambrose to turn to his dear old friend. You shouldhave seen it, Miss Linton. It was such a touching scene. The poorboy nearly cried his eyes ou—mmph!’
Mr Ambrose had apparently decided to foregohis stick in favour of fists for now. A right hook sank deep intoLord Dalgliesh’s stomach. Gasping, Dalgliesh doubled over,providing an excellent target. Mr Ambrose’s left fist wasn’t one towaste opportunities.
Thud!
Dalgliesh crumpled to the ground.
‘Not. Another. Word.’
‘What is it?’ Pushing himself up, HisLordship smirked up at the man I loved. I felt the sudden, almostirresistible urge to wipe that sneer off his face. ‘Afraid shewon’t have you if she knows the truth?’
Silence.
One long, deafening moment of silence.
Then, almost quicker than I could see, MrAmbrose’s eyes flicked up to stare at me—and they were gone again.But that moment had been enough. I had seen the uncertaintyflickering in his eyes, for just one moment.
My God.
Hewas.
Hewasafraid.
‘What happened?’ My voice was no more but awhisper, 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 shetrusts me more than you. So much for love.’
‘I wasn’t talking to you, you worthless pieceof scum,’ I told him, not taking my eyes off my husband-to-be for amoment. Stepping forward, I placed a hand on his arm. His eyes shotup to meet mine, and I held them, refusing to let them go. To lethimgo. ‘Tell me. What happened?’
Mr Ambrose opened his mouth—but no soundscame out. Gently, I squeezed his arm, my eyes imploring him.
Tell me. Please.
All I got in response was silence. Silenceand, once again, that flicker of fear in his eyes. And suddenly Irealized that I had asked him to do the one thing that, during allthe time I’d known him, had always been the most difficult for him:speak.
‘Don’t worry.’ Sending all the warmth andlove through my eyes that I had in my fiery feminist heart, Isqueezed his arm again. ‘This is one occasion where time is neithermoney nor power nor knowledge. Take your time.’
Our eyes held for one long moment. A longmoment that didn’t go unnoticed by His Lordship.
‘He wasn’t so tight-lipped when his family’sfortune was about to crumble,’ Dalgliesh growled. There was notriumph glinting in his eyes now. Only vitriol and pure,undisguised hatred. ‘You should have heard him! How he whimperedand cried! So scared he was for his precious family. Like a childwho’s about to wet himself!’
‘I guess you’d know what that’s like,’ I shotback, my eyes spewing sparks. ‘So, what did you do? Throw him outlike the heartless worm you are?’
A shadow of his former smirk flickered overDalgliesh’s face. ‘Throw him out? On the contrary, Miss Linton! Iasked him in, of course, and offered him something to drink. Didyou know that, up until then, he’d never had a real drink? A fewglasses of wine loosened his tongue easily enough, and soon, thepoor boy was pouring his heart out to his dear, dear, friend. Whatcould I do? As the good friend I was, I had only one choice: offerhelp.’
Oh yes, of course. And my best friend Patsyis a timid little housewife.
