I marched down the corridor like a train at full steam. All my energy, all my focus, all my considerable wrath was concentrated on the door at the end of that corridor – or, more precisely, on the man behind it.

'Miss?' a servant dared to step in my way. Bad idea. 'Mr Ambrose does not wish to be disturbed at the mo–'

He met my gaze and broke off instantly, swallowing.

I raised an eyebrow. 'You were saying?'

'I, um...well, Miss...'

'Out of my way!'

'Yes, Miss! Right away, Miss!'

He jumped aside just in time to not get flattened to the floor. I marched past and slammed my foot against the door, kicking it open.

Mr Ambrose was sitting behind his desk, studying an open file in front of him with impeccable concentration. He didn't even bother to look up when I stormed into the room, the son of a bachelor! Seething with righteous rage, I marched up to his desk and, gritting my teeth, bit out: 'Tell me you didn't do it!'

'I didn't do it,' he said, then turned over a page in the file and proceeded to ignore me.

'Liar! It was you! I know it was!'

'Indeed?'

'Who else could it have been? Oh, you...you're going to pay for this! You...you...!'

Slowly, very slowly, Mr Ambrose raised his eyes from the document resting on the desk in front of him and met my gaze.

'What are we talking of, precisely?'

That bloody son of a...!

'Captain Carter, of course!'

'Indeed, Mr Linton?'

'Oh yes, indeed, Sir!'

'And what has happened to the good captain that warrants your barging into my office at this hour of the night?'

'Don't you play the innocent! You know exactly what happened! You were the one who sicced that bearded brute on him!'

'Bearded brute?'

Just then, the door behind me creaked open, and I saw the reflection of Karim appearing in the dark windows behind Mr Ambrose. What little was visible of his face behind that beard of his was a grimace of discomfort that would have made me laugh at any other time. Never in my life had I seen the huge Mohammedan looking so much like a naughty schoolboy who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But right now wasn't any other time. Right now was right now. And right now, I just wanted to chop his bloody head off!

'Karim.' Just one word. That was all. Mr Ambrose gave his bodyguard a look, and the huge man grimaced, ducking his head.

'I am sorry, Sahib.'

'I'm so glad to hear that, Karim.' Half-turning, I gifted him with a smile you could have cut iron with. 'What are you sorry about, exactly? Walloping Captain Carter over the head and trying to stuff him into a sack, or getting caught in the act?'

Wisely, the big man did not answer.

I whirled back to Mr Ambrose, my eyes flashing. 'It was you! It really was you who ordered this!'

Silence.

'Why, damn you? Bloody hell, why?'

More silence. Clenching my fists, I strode forward until I stood right in front of his desk. Slamming my fists down on the hardwood, I leaned forward until our faces were only inches apart.

'Why would you do this? Captain Carter was here to help suppress the riots! He was helping you!'

'Oh yes.' Mr Ambrose's eyes were two dark oceans of ice. His words were only a whisper – and yet I understood every cold, hard word. 'I'm sure the good captain was very desirous of helping me. I could tell from the way he was kneeling beside your bed, clutching your hand in his!'

I blinked. What in the...

Out of all the possible things for him to say, I had not expected this.

'You had a man knocked over the head and stuffed into a sack because he visited while I was ill?'

There was a noise from behind me. It almost sounded...no. That couldn't be. It had almost sounded as if Karim had choked on a laugh. But that couldn't be true. There was about as much humour in Karim as in a grumpy old camel.

'No.' Mr Ambrose's cold voice drew my attention back to him. He was sitting even stiffer than usual, as if someone had injected steel into his spine. His dark, sea-coloured eyes were swirling, focused on me with an intensity I did not understand, and that made me slightly uneasy. 'I didn't do it just because he paid you a visit.'

'Why then? Why would you go after a perfectly nice man like Captain Carter?'

His hands shot out, grabbing my face. Before I could even think of resisting, he had pulled me across the desk and kissed me once, hard, on the mouth.

Then he released me.

Stunned, I stumbled back, staring at him.

'Try to guess,' he growled.

Silence.

Icy silence on the part of Mr Ambrose. Diplomatic silence from Karim. And from me – stunned silence. Absolutely steamrollered, gobsmacked, speechless silence.

Had that really just happened?

I tried to look at Mr Ambrose, tried to read his face – but I found I couldn't. I could not look into those deep, dark, sea-coloured eyes, or I would lose myself in them. And even if I did...that would not help me decipher his words. His face would be a mask, unreadable as stone.

What was he talking about? Why had he done this to Captain Carter? He couldn't possibly mean that because he had seen Captain Carter on one knee beside me, he had assumed...that he was feeling...that he had done all this because he was...

No.

That wasn't possible.

I tried to look up again, but still found I could not meet his gaze. Instead, my eyes flitted across his desk, searching desperately for anything innocent to cling to.

And they found something.

At first sight, the slim black folder looked quite innocent. It was just a folded piece of cardboard, after all, not even in a very interesting colour. But then my eyes snagged on the letters printed on it: J.C. from L.L. Waste Disposal.

Strange, I wondered, staring at the letters. JC. What a funny coincidence. Those are the initials of Captain Carter. James Carter. What a funny coincidence indeed to find that on Mr Ambrose's desk and–

My thoughts screeched to a halt.

Coincidence?

How likely was it that the words 'coincidence' and 'Ambrose' would appear in the same sentence?

Suddenly, something made click in my head, and I remembered. I remembered it all, and for the first time, I understood.

Slowly, very slowly, I raised my gaze to meet the arctic eyes of Mr Rikkard Ambrose.

'No,' I whispered. 'Tell me you didn't.'

'I didn't,' he told me without the slightest hesitation. 'Now, what exactly is it that you are referring to this time, Mr Linton?'

'That file!' I slammed my hand onto the desk. 'I've seen others like it before!'

He cocked his head, as if he had no idea what I was talking about, the cheeky bastard! 'Indeed?'

'I saw one on your desk the day before Lieutenant Ellingham disappeared!'

'Is that so?'

'You remember Lieutenant Ellingham, don't you Sir? My suitor?'

His face was perfectly impassive. It didn't give away a thing, and had upped its refund demands to six hundred pounds sixty-seven shillings.

'Now that you mention it, Mr Linton, I do seem to remember something of the kind.'

'And then I saw one like it again!'

'Indeed?'

'Oh yes, indeed! The very day before Morty vanished from the face of the earth!'

'Morty who?'

'Morton Marmeduke Fitzgerald – my other suitor.'

'My, my, Mr Linton. You do seem to be in high demand.'

'Apparently.' Breathing hard, I clenched my fists. One of them curled around the black folder on the desk. 'Yet somehow, my suitors always seem to disappear into thin air at the very last moment.'

Mr Ambrose's face had upped its refund demands to at least a thousand pounds, plus interest.

'Indeed?'

'Don't you indeed me! You...you...' I took a deep breath, preparing to speak the incredible truth. All this time...and I had no idea, and he...he...

'You were behind it,' I whispered. 'Every single time. Every single man. It was always you. You and your sabre-swinging thug!'

From behind me, Karim made a noise that sounded as if he were about to protest against his newest nickname. Whirling around, I shot him one single glare and raised a warning finger. That was more than enough to shut him up. I whirled back to Mr Ambrose, who was sitting in his armchair, regarding me over steepled fingers, cool as a cucumber in the supply hold of a sunken arctic exploration ship.

'It was you!' I stabbed an accusing finger at the fiend. 'Don't you try to deny it!'

'Deny it?' He cocked his head, still regarding me so infernally unperturbed over his steepled fingers. 'Why would I wish to deny it?'

I opened my mouth – and closed it again.

'Because...because...well, how about because it's illegal, for a start!'

'I'm not in the habit of begging, but still, I beg to differ, Mr Linton.'

I stared at him. The nerve of the man...! 'Making people disappear isn't illegal?'

'No. Not if you get the men you wish to disappear drunk, and you then leave them conveniently in the path of a press gang looking for new brave recruits for our great nation's Royal Navy. I have a little arrangement with a certain captain that...well, let's just say that, over the past few years, I have contributed considerably to the growth of our country's proud fleet.'

'That's...that's...'

'Patriotic?'

'Despicable! Immoral! Horrifying!'

'I didn't hear you complaining at the time. In fact, I seem to remember a certain person whose name I won't mention singing and dancing through my office, overwhelmed with joy that her suitor was no longer–'

My ears suddenly burned. 'That's beside the point!'

'On the contrary.' His dark, stormy eyes bored into me. 'I'd say it is the point.'

'What about Lieutenant Ellingham and Captain Carter?' I demanded. 'Are you going to try and pass that off as patriotism, too? They already were in the military! They were both British Army officers!'

'Well, then I suppose it was time for a career change to the Navy. I hear sea air is healthy.'

'You...you...! I...I'm going to–'

'–thank me?' He gave a magnanimous wave. An absolute monarch couldn't have done better. 'No need. A bit of free overtime will do. You can stay an hour longer in the office for six months. That will do.' And, with another little wave, he dismissed me and picked up his file again.

Thank him?

Thank him?

Oh, I was going to...

'What. About. Captain. Carter?' I repeated, every word leaving my mouth as if pushed out between grinding millstones. 'What about today? Do you see me dancing with joy today? Do you think I'd want to thank you for today?'

The file froze in mid-air.

'No.' Those dark, sea-coloured eyes of his fixed on me again, turning even stormier, a hurricane forming in their depths. 'Which leads me to wonder...why is that? What is so special about the captain?'

My breath caught. I tried, tried desperately to think of something to say, but under that intense gaze, my mind froze and my heart melted away.

Pull yourself together Lilly! You're a strong, independent woman! Even if every bone in your body doesn't feel like being one, you are!

'Why?' I whispered. 'Why did you hurt him?'

'You know why.' In an instant, he was up and around the desk, crowding me, pushing me back against the wall. His face was only inches away from me, his dark gaze burning into me.

'You can't possibly think that he...that he and I...'

'Can't I, Mr Linton?'

'That's ridiculous!'

'Indeed?'

'You won't lay another finger on him, do you hear? Not another finger!'

Casually, confidently, he raised his hand and stroked one finger down my cheek. 'I lay my finger wherever I please, Mr Linton.'

Grabbing his hand, I pulled it away – but in an instant, he had turned the tables on me, grabbing my wrists and slamming them against the wall, trapping me.

'Ehem.' Somewhere in the background, Karim cleared his throat. 'I think I'd better go now, Sahib.'

We both ignored him.

'Arrogant, chauvinistic pig!' I growled.

'Stubborn, unreasonable female,' he hissed.

The door closed behind Karim with a discreet click. We ignored that, too. We were too busy glaring at each other.

'I think someone here needs a little lesson about who exactly is in charge,' he whispered, his breath tickling my skin.

'I couldn't agree more,' I shot back, glaring pointedly straight at him. He glared right back.

'Stay away from that man, Mr Linton,' he ordered in a voice that put the lie to the male address.

'Don't be ridiculous!'

'Stay away or I will take him away! I'm sure Captain Carter would enjoy a little journey to China. I hear the Royal Navy is having a nice time there right now.'

'You wouldn't dare!'

'Look into my eyes, Mr Linton, and then tell me there's anything I wouldn't dare where you are concerned!'

I looked.

And I couldn't speak.

He would dare. He absolutely would. This was Mr Rikkard Ambrose, a man who would grind someone into the dust just for pinching a few pennies. My throat suddenly felt dry. What would a man like that be capable of if he thought someone was threatening to take away something that was really important to him? Something he cared about. Something like...me?

The realisation settled cold and heavy in my stomach.

Captain Carter was a dead man.

Unless I could do something about it.