Light sparkled. Tiny little points of light, getting bigger, then smaller, then bigger again. I wouldn't have minded – it might even have looked nice – if every single one of them hadn't stabbed me in the head like a red hot needle.

'Aaargh...Ouww...'

'Ah. I believe our guest is ready to join us in the land of the conscious.'

That voice... that cultural, slightly amused, deadly voice...

I knew it.

If only I could remember...if only someone would help me...

A bucket of water splashed into my face.

Ah. Thanks for the help.

'Pppft!'

Spewing water in all directions, I shook my head.

'Now, really, Brewer,' came that cultured, sleek voice again. 'Is that any way to treat a lady?'

'She's a lady, Sir?'

'Most assuredly. And, though this might not be apparent at first sight, a very important one. Isn't that right, Miss Linton?'

Pushing my wet hair out of my eyes, I raised my head and gazed up at the smiling face of Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh.

'I guess that depends on your definition of "important".'

My gaze wandered to Mabel, who was standing behind his Lordship, looking by no means as cowed as she had in the presence of Rikkard Ambrose. I stared at her, my eyes narrowing to slits.

'Why?' I demanded.

She shrugged. 'Dalgliesh pays better.'

Of course.

I loved Mr Rikkard Ambrose. I truly did. But right then and there, I could have strangled him until every last drop of stinginess was squeezed out of his miserably marvellous body!

'Ah, yes.' Turning, His Lordship pulled a pouch out of his pocket. It clinked in a very valuable way as it dropped into the maid's open hand. 'Your last payment. That should be enough to get you established in the colonies and make a very nice dowry.'

'Judas,' I muttered.

Half-turning to me, Lord Dalgliesh lifted an eyebrow. 'Hardly. That's gold, not silver.'

Mabel, the traitor, made a deep curtsy and hurried towards the door. Just before she stepped outside, I spoke.

'Mabel?'

She stopped in the doorway. 'Yes?'

'What I told you...'

'Yes?'

'It was a lie.' I fixed her with my coldest imitation-Ambrose stare. 'His bite is worse than his bark. Far, far worse.'

Hurriedly, she swept out of the room. But just before she did, I could see a flash of fear spark in her eyes.

Good! She should be afraid. She should be terrified.

Because at least then I won't be the only one.

Slowly, Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh turned towards me and gave me his most brilliant, charming, shiny smile. It didn't make me feel any better. Apart from me, there was only one other person in his room: Thomas Brewer, his 'footman', who was standing at the door in a pose that looked suspiciously soldierly. No one else was in sight. Not a soul could help me. My hands tensed, curling into fists around the edges of the cot I was sitting on.

'Well, Miss Linton...let's have a little chat, shall we?'

'I have a better idea,' I told him, while my eyes flicked around the bare, rough wooden room, searching for a way to escape. One door – blocked. One window – but too small to fit through. Damn! 'Let's let me go, shall we?'

'Ha! You're quite amusing. I begin to see why Mr Ambrose keeps you around.' In a flash, he was in front of me, gripping my chin between two long, aristocratic fingers. His steel-blue eyes bored into mine. 'Listen here, Miss Linton. I took you, I have you, and I can do anything I want with you. You had better get used to that fact. And as long as you are in my power, you had better not do or say anything to displease me or the consequences will be...grave. Do we understand each other?'

Ah. He was one of those men. He enjoyed this.

'Yes.' I met his gaze head-on. 'I understand perfectly.'

'Very well.' Letting go, Lord Dalgliesh turned away and marched to the window. It was covered by a few hastily sewn-together hides nailed to the wall. Whatever this place was, Buckingham Palace it was not. Lifting the hides a few inches, Lord Dalgliesh peered outside.

'Good,' he murmured. 'The snow is falling fast. By the time that fool Ambrose notices she's gone, our tracks will long be covered. You laid a false trail, like I ordered, Brewer?'

The footman nodded. 'Yes, My Lord.'

'And Whittock? Has he left the message?'

'Yes, My Lord.'

'Very good. Very good indeed.'

Message? I felt a cold fist clamp down around my heart. There was only man they would have left a message for.

'What do you want with Mr Ambrose?' I demanded, sitting up straight and glaring at Dalgliesh's back.

Letting go of the window's leather covering, he turned to face me. 'Will you look at that? Our resident damsel has brains between her ears. I wonder...does she have enough to answer her own question, the answer to which, I must admit, should be rather obvious?'

Suppressing my intense desire to slap him across the face, I cocked my head. They had sent a message to Mr Ambrose, after kidnapping me. He was right. It was rather obvious.

'You plan to blackmail him.'

'Blackmail is such an ugly word,' he said, waving a hand. But then a smile spread over his face that sent a shiver down my back. 'On the other hand, I like ugly words. Particularly when applied to my enemies.'

I did my best to laugh haughtily. 'It won't work! Blackmail Mr Rikkard Ambrose? It's impossible! He doesn't care about anything or anyone, pounds sterling excepted.'

'You know...' Thoughtfully, Lord Dalgliesh tapped his chin. 'I thought the same thing only a short while ago. But then you came along. I had my initial suspicions when I first saw the two of you dancing together at Lady Metcalf's ball. Still, I thought to myself "No, this is Rikkard Ambrose. It can't be." Of course, I had you investigated nonetheless, and I discovered that Mr Ambrose's secretary had the same name as you do – but from what I could find out, neither he nor Mr Ambrose were connected to you in any other way. And then, when you made no other appearance in his life, I began to think it was nothing. I began to forget – until I received a very interesting letter from my agent in Newcastle.'

His Lordship slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out a letter on thin, rumpled paper. It looked so insignificant. Hard to believe that such a thing could spell my doom.

'Urgent!' Lord Dalgliesh read in that sleek, aristocratic voice. 'Ambrose spotted with male and female companions in Newcastle. Last known location: London. Companions: Bodyguard, deputy manager, secretary Linton, and...' He looked up, meeting my eyes. '...and unknown female.'

I swallowed.

'Imagine my surprise, Miss Linton, when I discovered that "unknown female" was in fact you. The only woman whom Mr Ambrose was ever known to dance with without an ulterior motive. The only woman who'd brave danger for him. The only woman he ever invited to meet his family.'

Flipping the letter shut, he gave me a look.

I answered it by raising an eyebrow. 'What, you think meeting the The Most Honourable The Marquess Ambrose is a mark of distinction Mr Ambrose bestows on a lady? I would rather see it as a threat, or a method to efficiently make her lose interest.'

His Lordship chuckled. 'Ah, yes. The marquess has some less than pleasing qualities. But then...so has his son.'

Shut up! Shut up! You slimeball, you don't know what you are talking about! There's only one person who's allowed to insult Rikkard Ambrose, and that's me!

'If you're willing to put up with one, I very much doubt you'd balk at the other. In any case, this isn't about the marquess's likability. This is about Mr Rikkard Ambrose, after ten years, suddenly returning to his family. A month ago, I would have said he cared about them as much as he does about a rock in the Kalahari Desert – one without gold ore inside. He let them stew for over a decade. I would have said he never wanted anything to do with them again. And then you somehow managed to get him up here.' He gave three long, slow claps. 'Impressive. Quite impressive. Too bad you will not be reaping the rewards of your labours.'

'What happened?' I demanded, teeth gritted. 'What the hell did you do to the Ambroses? What could anyone do to sow so much hatred between father and son?'

'What? He didn't tell you?' A mocking aristocratic eyebrow rose. 'Dear me. You must not have him as tightly wrapped around your finger as I thought.'

'Right now, I'd like to wrap something around your neck!'

'Tut, tut. Such unladylike language.'

'Tell me!'

'Hm...' He started walking, circling me like a predator would a prospective victim. 'I wonder what would be more amusing...to tell you, or to leave you wondering...'

'Tell me! What did you do?'

'Hm...interesting how you automatically assume it was me.'

My head snapped around. 'It wasn't?'

He smirked. 'Oh, don't misunderstand me, I was, shall we say...the catalyst for the happy event? But it needn't have ended in their family breaking apart. Oh no, that the Ambroses managed all on their own.' Passing out of my sight, he moved behind me, his voice making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. 'You see, thanks to my help, it came to a little disagreement between the marquess and his son. Not being quite so cool and composed back then, he went into battle with a vengeance. The old man responded in kind and...well, things took their course. From what I've been able to learn, they shouted at each other loud enough to make the walls rattle, until finally the marquess told his son to get out.'

One of his fingers touched my cheek, and I shuddered.

'And he did,' Lord Dalgliesh whispered. 'And didn't return for over ten years.'

Oh God...

I didn't want to believe it – but I could see. Two proud men, father and son, raging at each other, unwilling to give in...and then the fatal words.

Get out.

Any ordinary young man would storm out of the room, and that would be that. But Rikkard Ambrose was not and had never been an ordinary man.

'He left the country?' I whispered. 'Because of that?'

'Indeed he did.'

My eyes flashed up to His Lordship's. 'What did you do?'

Whatever it was, it must have been...dear Lord, I didn't even want to think about it. Something bad enough for a father to throw his own son out of the house...bad enough for the son to want to go, and never come back...

I shuddered.

'That, Miss Linton, is none of your concern.' Lord Dalgliesh gave me a smile. It was the kind of smile I was very used to seeing on the faces of gentlemen – an 'oh you are only a weak-minded female, you could not possibly understand' smile. 'Don't bother your pretty head with the details.'

I narrowed my eyes at him. Time to shoot back. 'Details like the fact that he returned?'

His Lordship stiffened.

'After you left, after you had ruined his life... You forgot about him, didn't you?' I guessed. 'You thought he was insignificant. A lowly, penniless insect not worth your exalted attention. Then he began to rise in the world. And when you finally noticed, it was too late. He was already too powerful for you.'

A muscle in his face twitched.

'He never was too powerful for me.'

'Indeed?' I raised an eyebrow. 'What about the bandits in Egypt he destroyed? The assassination attempts he survived? You desperately want to get rid of him, because you know that step by step, stone by stone, he is dismantling your empire. But you can't. He's stronger than you.'

His fists slammed into the wall on either side of me. I had to fight hard not to flinch, but somehow, I managed it.

'Have a care, Miss Linton,' he breathed, his aquiline face only inches away from mine, steel-blue eyes alight with menace. 'I need you alive. I do not necessarily need you intact.' He dragged in a deep breath, struggling to bring himself back under control. Finally, a shadow of his former arrogant smile reappeared on his face. 'We'll see how powerful Rikkard Ambrose really is very soon – when I send him your little finger on a platter.'

My mouth suddenly felt very dry.

'What are you hoping to accomplish? To lure him into a trap and kill him? He won't be that stupid!'

'Kill him?' The smile on his Lordship's face grew broader, and a look entered his eyes that I did not like. I did not like it at all. 'Why would I want to kill him?

It was only then that the full horror of the situation sank in. If Lord Dalgliesh didn't want Mr Ambrose dead, that could only mean...

'He'll be much more useful to me alive,' his Lordship continued, his breath tickling my face in a way that made me want to jump out of my own skin. 'With him under my thumb...can you imagine the things I could accomplish? It's not just the combined resources, it's the fact of my worst enemy suddenly working for me. All the people who have dared to cross me over the years – the Americans with their silly notions of freedom, the Chinese fighting against the opium trade, those pesky peasants and reformers in India – will be swept aside. No more flocking to the banner of Rikkard Ambrose! From now on, there will be order and rule within the British Empire!'

'And I'm guessing it won't have much to do with its Queen?'

'Ha!' His Lordship let out a bark of laughter. 'That green girl? As if she could ever accomplish anything!'

You'd be surprised what girls can accomplish.

However, I didn't say that out loud. I had a feeling that His Lordship wasn't the kind of man to listen. Besides...deeds spoke far better than words.

My hand crept into the folds of my skirts, searching until it felt something hard. I had to work to suppress a smile.

'Well, it's been lovely chatting with you, Miss Linton.' Straightening, Lord Dalgliesh pulled on his gloves, and picked up his hat from where he'd hung it on a nail protruding from the wall. 'But I'm afraid I have to go now. I have to meet a few of my men and lead them to this place. They will be escorting you to your new, permanent lodgings, and aiding in the removal of a digit to send to Mr Ambrose.'

'How very kind of them.'

'Yes, they are true gentlemen.' He gave me a smile that chilled my bones. 'Brewer, stay here and keep an eye on her, will you? We don't want her to take a walk and get lost in the woods.'

'Yes, My Lord. Should I bind her, My Lord?'

'Good God, no!' Lord Dalgliesh gave a short, sharp laugh. 'She's not one of those vicious street rats you're used to dealing with, Brewer! She's a lady. She can't tie her own shoes without a man's help.' Throwing me a last, mocking look, he lifted his head. 'Au revoir, Miss Linton.'

And he strode out of the hut.

What a pity. I had hoped he'd stay for the fun.

I wonder...what would it take to convince Lord Dalgliesh that I'm not quite the conventional lady?

Under my skirts, my hand closed around the aforementioned hard object. A smile curved my lips.

Yes, that would probably do it.

How convenient that I was a helpless little damsel in distress who didn't need to be searched by her captors. Very convenient indeed.

My eyes slid to Brewer, who had stepped towards the window to watch his master depart. Hoof beats, dampened by the snow, sounded outside. Slowly, they faded into the distance, and still he stood at the window, his back to me.

How did the old saying go? You don't look a gift horse in the mouth.

I rose.

'Brewer?'

He turned – just in time to come face-to-face with the muzzle of my revolver. The click of the hammer being pulled back echoed loudly in the little room.

I smiled at the wide-eyed man over the length of gleaming metal. 'I'd like to leave now. Would you be a kind gentleman and help me tie my shoelaces, helpless little damsel that I am?'