'A pleasure to make your acquaintance,' Captain James Carter said, unfolding himself from the coach and bowing deeply to our little group. 'A true plea–'

Then he noticed me.

His mouth dropped open, and he stared at me unblinkingly.

If Mr Ambrose's eyes had been burning into me with icy cold before, it was nothing compared to what they did now. My ears started to heat. Why the heck were my ears turning red? I had done nothing wrong!

Right?

'What's the matter, Carter?' The major chuckled. 'Stunned by the ladies' charms, are you?'

'No. Well...yes, Sir. Of course. But it's not just that.' He cleared his throat. 'I just noticed that I am already acquainted with one of the ladies.' And, right there, under the icy gaze of Mr Rikkard Ambrose, he stepped forward, bent over my hand, and pressed a kiss on its back.

Now it wasn't just Rikkard Ambrose who was boring holes into me with his gaze. I could feel the stares of Lady Adaira, Major Strickland and Lieutenants Woodard, Hartley, Cooley, and McWhat's-his-name on me equally intense, if not nearly as frigid. Only Lady Samantha, I noticed, wasn't watching me. She was watching her son watching me with considerable interest.

'Delighted to see you again, Miss Linton.' Captain Carter's words tore me from my thoughts. 'I've thought of you often since last we met, and I wondered when luck would grant me the chance of renewing our acquaintance.'

Yes, I'd been wondering that, too. And wasn't it just my kind of luck that now and here, in the company of Rikkard Ambrose and his entire family, was the moment it had to happen?

'How do you do, Your Ladyship.' Captain Carter repeated the hand kiss with Mr Ambrose's mother – not a wise move. It suddenly grew even colder outside. If looks could kill, Captain James Carter would be nothing but a skeleton frozen forever in a giant cube of ice. 'Such a pleasure to make your acquaintance. And these lovely people are your family, I presume?'

'My son, Rikkard, and my daughter, Adaira Louise.'

'Charmed.' Once again, he reached for a hand to kiss – that of Mr Rikkard Ambrose's little sister.

Oh God. You're dead. So absolutely, one hundred per cent dead. R.I.P. Captain James Carter.

Miraculously, he was not killed on the spot. Instead, he reached out and took the hand of Rikkard Ambrose. For one horrible, horrendous moment I thought he was going to kiss it, too – then his fingers squeezed in a handshake.

'Such a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr Ambro–'

That was the moment when Mr Ambrose started to squeeze back.

'Nng!'

'Yes.' Mr Ambrose's voice was a soft arctic wind, promising the coming blizzard. 'Such a pleasure. I've snatched glimpses of you from afar, Captain, and have taken the liberty of following your career and interesting exploits. I look forward to our getting to know each other better.'

Never had a death-threat been worded in so gentlemanly a manner.

'Mmmh. Rrrg.' Captain Carter swallowed and squeezed back, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. 'You...have quite a grip, Mr Ambrose.'

'Yes. On everything.'

Abruptly, he let go of Carter's hand, and the captain pulled it back, clearly working hard to resist the urge to cradle it against his chest. Mr Ambrose's gaze swept over the captain's colleagues.

'Greetings, gentlemen. Welcome to my father's home.' And he extended his hand.

The officers took an instinctive step backwards.

'This,' Adaira whispered in my ear, her eyes gleaming, 'is getting exciting! I never dreamt a Christmas ball would be this much fun.'

The marchioness intervened then, taking the major by the arm with one of those motherly smiles of hers and ushering everyone out of the cold, into the toasty warm hall. She engaged the military men in conversation, enquiring what they thought of their winter quarters, and how the reception of the country to their arrival had been so far. I tried to join the conversation. I tried to engage the captain and his friends in small talk, smile and be polite – while from behind me, Mr Rikkard Ambrose was deep-freezing the back of my head. Captain Carter, however, who was still nursing his hand with a bemused expression on his face, seemed to be blissfully ignorant of the tension in the air. He gave me a bright smile.

'I still remember the last time we danced together. At Lady Abercrombie's, wasn't it? You looked so beautiful that night.'

Ice crystals started building on my neck. I manufactured a smile. 'Really? I'm sure I didn't. You were probably thinking of someone else.'

Please say you were thinking of someone else! Please! I don't want you to end up deep-frozen.

'Oh no, I remember you distinctly.'

Crap!

'You were the most beautiful lady at the ball. Simply resplendent.' Taking my hands, he half-turned towards me and gazed down at me in a manner that could not be misinterpreted. Crap, crap, crap! 'There was no other who could compete with you. Why do you think I danced with you twice in a row?'

The ice crystals on my neck were quickly getting ambitious and developing into icicles. 'Oh, I don't know,' I replied with a sort of suicidal levity. 'Pity? Insanity? Lack of options?'

Suddenly looking unusually serious, he squeezed my hands.

'It was none of those things, Miss Linton,' he whispered. 'I might have thought so, once – but not any longer. I've thought a lot about you during these last few months.'

Oh dear Lord...

'Captain Carter—'

'Sh. Don't say anything now. It's not the time or the place. But I think that, when you have a moment, it is time for us to have a little private talk,' he told me, too softly for anyone else to hear.

The problem was: Mr Rikkard Ambrose wasn't just anyone.

Swallowing, I felt his ice-cold gaze burn into me from behind, cutting a path to my very soul.

I made myself smile up at Captain Carter. 'I...look forward to it.'

*~*~**~*~*

I just want to make one thing clear from the start: I was not afraid of Captain Carter. Not of him, and not of what he might have to say to me. Fear had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that, having made my excuses, I ran as fast as my hoop skirt would allow back towards my room and changed into blessedly male protective gear.

It was just more comfortable, clear?

All right, all right.

I admit it.

I'm a coward.

I didn't want to have a talk with Captain Carter. At least not the one he had planned, which, I suspected, he could only have with Lillian, not with Mr Victor Linton. So I put on my shirt, peacock vest and tailcoat, and returned to the drawing room where the company had gathered, feeling like a new man. Literally.

'Hello, everyone.'

I smiled as I closed the door behind me, trying to ignore the familiar icy stare burrowing into me from the moment I entered.

'Mr Linton!' Lady Samantha beamed. 'Where have you been? The first of our guests have arrived.'

'Linton?' Captain Carter's head jerked around and he blinked at me, his mouth opening a fraction at the sight. 'Any relation of...good God! You must be. You're her spitting image.'

I gave him a broad, friendly, thank-god-I'm-wearing-trousers smile. 'You must be talking about my sister Lillian.'

'Yes. Forgive me for expressing my shock, Sir, but the resemblance really is–'

'–remarkable,' I sighed. 'I know.'

He was still staring at me. And he wasn't the only one. The whole room was curiously gazing at Miss Lillian Linton's identical twin.

Finally, the captain cleared his throat. 'I was under the impression that Miss Linton had only female siblings.'

'They don't really talk about me.' I gave a shrug. 'I'm the black sheep of the family because I decided to work for a living. I am employed by Mr Ambrose as his private secretary.'

'Ah. That explains it.' The captain looked relieved, then seemed to remember himself and bowed. 'I beg your pardon for addressing you without an introduction, Mr Linton. It was unaccountably rude of me. I was just so surprised...well, you are probably used to reactions from people who see you and your sister at the same time.'

'That,' I assured him, 'happens rarely.'

'Well, I am sorry, in any case. Now – the introduction. Marchioness, would you be so kind?'

Lady Samantha rushed in to introduce everyone to me – again – and then, when the attention was finally off me once more, and I was just readying to find a quiet corner with an iron door I could slip through to hide from Mr Ambrose, two female raptors descended on me without mercy.

'Your sister is fabulous!' Adaira gushed, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me over to a table with refreshments, away from the men. Another hand closed around my other arm, and I saw Lady Samantha, looking happier than I had ever seen her. Adaira squeezed my arm so hard it nearly fell off. 'Why didn't you tell us about her sooner? I've never seen anyone handle my brother like that! Actually, come to think of it, I've never seen anyone try to handle my brother and survive.'

Well, to be honest My Lady, the way his eyes are burning holes in my neck this very moment I'm not sure I am going to survive...

'And she's so warm and open,' Lady Samantha sighed. 'And what a lovely smile she has! Tell me, Mr Linton – is your sister engaged?'

My eyebrows shot up. The motive of her question was about as subtle as a flying brick in the face, and it...

It overwhelmed me.

Marriage?

Yes, I wanted Mr Ambrose, but...marriage?

To love? Maybe. Honour? A big maybe. Obey? Ha! Never in a million years!

Could I marry Mr Rikkard Ambrose? Could I marry anyone, taking into account what that institution would mean for my freedom?

Before I could find an answer to that question, a hand settled on my shoulder.

'Mr Linton?' a familiar cold, hard voice reached my ear. 'A word. We have some business matters to discuss.'

I swallowed.

'Tush!' Lady Samantha chastised. 'Can't you see Mr Linton is speaking to us?'

'Yes,' I agreed desperately. Anything was better than facing that cold fury behind me. Anything. Even a discussion about the M-word.

'I'm talking to Lady Samantha, Mr Ambrose, Sir. If you will please excuse me...'

I tried to step away. The grip of the hand on my shoulder tightened.

'Last I checked,' he breathed into my ear, 'I pay your bills, Mr Linton. Which means I get to decide when you talk and whom you talk to.'

And without waiting for an answer, he grabbed my arm, dragging me off like a caveman. We were across the room in a blink, and he shoved me into a curtained-off alcove, pulling the curtain closed behind us.

'What do you think you're doing?' I demanded. 'You can't manhandle me like that! I'm not–'

But exactly what I was not – A duck? A giant garden gnome? A pink-haired pygmy? – I never got to reveal. Those were the last words I got out before his lips came down on mine and silenced me.

'You know that man.' Every hard word, every harsh breath, was a punishment against my mouth. 'I've seen you with him, back in Alexandria.'

I didn't pretend not to know whom he was talking about. 'Yes.'

His arms slammed into the wall on either side of me, caging me in, cutting off any avenues of escape. Dark, sea-coloured eyes, churning with the rage of the ocean, bored into me.

'Who is he? And more importantly, who is he to you?'

'Don't you already know?' I raised a defiant eyebrow. 'After what you said to him, I supposed you had dug through every aspect of his life.'

'I have. But that still doesn't give me the necessary information to answer my latter question.' One of his hands slid away from the wall, caressing my face in a move so caring, so gentle, it almost took my breath away. Not fair! 'Who. Is. He. To. You?'

I opened my mouth to say 'no one' – and closed it again.

Captain Carter wasn't no one. He was the man who had taught me to dance the galop, who had helped me foil the plans of my devious aunt and who had risked his career to bring me safely home. He was the man who had saved my little sister Ella from a fate worse than death – marriage to his best friend. How could I call a man like that nothing?

It turned out I didn't need to. My silence was answer enough. Mr Ambrose's jaw muscles tightened, the cold sea in his eyes freezing over with ice and iron.

'I see.

I see? What did that mean?

'Mr Ambrose?'

Silence.

'Mr Ambrose, Sir?'

More silence. I leaned forward, peeking up at him, trying to decipher the immovable mask of his face.

'Sir? Please tell me you're not going to do anything stupid, Sir!'

He cocked his head, gazing at me as if I were a bug under the microscope questioning the scientist about his methods.

'I am not going to do anything stupid.'

For a moment, I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief – until I remembered that a man who had spies in Buckingham Palace transcribe the Queen's private diary and engaged in sea battles with foreign nations that didn't appreciate his particular brand of 'free trade' policy probably had a different definition of 'something stupid' than sweet little me.

'Then what are you going to do?'

He met my eyes and his gaze was...impassive. Calm. Ruthless.

'I am going to my room and do some paperwork. There is a file I've suddenly remembered I need to take care of.'

'A...file?'

'Yes.'

Relief flooded through me. 'Oh, very well, if that's all...'

'Mr Linton! Rick! Come and see! More guests are arriving!' Suddenly, rapid footsteps were approaching us. In an instant, Mr Ambrose was at the other end of the alcove, assuming a perfectly innocent pose, as if he hadn't just been ravishing my mouth. A moment later, the curtain was pulled back, and Adaira's face was framed in bright light.

'There you are! What are you two doing in here?'

'Um...we–'

'Oh, forget it! What do I care about boring business stuff?'

'Err...yes. Boring. Very boring. Wouldn't interest you at all.'

'Come and see! The next coach is rolling up in front of the house right this moment.'

She latched onto me, and reluctantly I let myself be dragged outside, Mr Ambrose following in my wake, colder and more silent than ever. We followed her out into the yard where, indeed, several more carriages were pulling up.

I had to admit, after the earlier surprise with Captain Carter, meeting the ladies was something of an anti-climax. Yes, some of them were – in spite of my best efforts – quite beautiful, and all of them eyed the silent figure of Mr Ambrose as if it was already Christmas and he was the present they wanted to unwrap first. But their arrival had lost the bite of shock. After all, how could anything be more shocking than the captain's sudden arrival on the scene?

I found out how soon enough.

'Oh, look!'

Adaira's excited words made me glance up – and my eyes widened. A coach was rolling across the courtyard – a coach so monumental, so luxurious, so perfect it practically breathed wealth and power. It looked like you'd imagine Cinderella's coach would have looked like if her fairy godmother hadn't just been an amateur, but had come with a PhD in fairygodmothering. Only...I was fairly sure that, unfortunately, this coach wouldn't turn into a pumpkin at midnight.

'Who is that?' Lady Samantha breathed.

'Don't you see the crest on the door, mother? It's Lady Caroline!'

'Caroline...no. That can't be her. I heard her father had recently made some good investments, but this–'

I swallowed. To judge by the amount of gold on that coach, those had to have been some really good investments. This girl had money. A lot of money.

Unable to look at Mr Ambrose, I stood there like a statue while the most magnificent of coaches rolled to a halt, the door swung open, and out of the interior emerged the ice queen herself. Or at least that's what she looked like. Blonde hair, brilliant blue eyes, and clad in a breathtakingly bejewelled fur coat under which the hem of a blue-white dress peeked out just enough to showcase the gold on the hem.

This girl, in her current attire, was worth at least five thousand pounds. And the worst thing was: she looked as if she were worth twice as much. I hardly recognised her as the shy-looking girl I had seen in Lady Samantha's engraving collection. And apparently I wasn't alone in that feeling.

'Caroline?' Adaira's incredulous whisper from beside me was barely audible.

I guess it was right what they said. Clothes do make the man – and the woman.

'Hello, everyone. It's so good to see you again!' Lady Caroline smiled a brilliant smile, whiter even than the snow around her. 'Adaira, you look lovelier each day. Lady Samantha! I can't wait to see your Christmas decorations. I'm sure they're even more beautiful than last year. And–'

Her eyes widened as they caught on Mr Ambrose.

'Oh my! Is that...'

And Mr Ambrose, Mr Rikkard Ambrose, stepped forward, grasped her hand, and pulled it to his lips.

'Lady Caroline. What a pleasure to see you again after all this time.'

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