'Hello?' The doorknob rattled against my behind. 'Hello? Is anyone in there?'

I jumped away from the door as if a bear had bitten me in the butt. And, I supposed, in a way it had. As the door opened and Lady Samantha's motherly, radiant face appeared in the doorway, all I could think was:

OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGodIjustofferedtohaveanintimateaffairwiththissweetlady'sson!I'msogoingtohell!

And I didn't even believe in hell.

But when Lady Samantha smiled at me and a moment later hugged me close, that sort of made me believe a tiny little bit in heaven.

'Oh, my dear, I'm so glad you're back! I hope the Sultana is all right?'

It was good she was still hugging me. That way, she didn't see my jaw drop open.

'The...what?'

'The Sultana, dear! Adaira told me how you had to leave suddenly, because the Sultana of Bakavāsa had arrived in the country for a visit, and you had to be there to greet her, since she was an old friend of your mother's.'

'Oh, she did, did she?'

'I never knew that you moved in such exalted circles, dear.'

'Neither did I.'

'Pardon, what did you say?'

'I said, I'm a little bit shy.'

'Oh, that's so adorable.' She gave me a last hug before letting me go. 'Look at you! You look all flushed and pretty. Was the journey bracing?'

'Um...oh yes.'

And so was having my mouth ravished by your son.

'The Sultana is well, I trust?'

I managed to get a smile on my face. 'The Sultana of Bakavāsa is as well as she's ever been.'

'Oh, I'm so glad to hear that, my dear. I had to admit, I was slightly worried.'

'Worried?'

'Yes, I...' Lady Samantha glanced aside, looking almost too guilty for such a sweet soul. 'I understood that you had to go greet your mother's old friend, of course, and I would never have asked you to do differently, but...I really hoped that you wouldn't be long. I'm so glad you managed to return in time for the Christmas ball.'

'You are?'

'Yes.'

She peeked up at me.

'Has my son come to see you since your return?'

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room was prickling. I wet my dry lips. Bloody hell, bloody hell, bloody hell, what to say?

'He came to see me.'

'I thought perhaps he might. Did he say anything?'

You mean apart from commanding me to elope with him?

'Not much.'

That much at least was true. His mouth had been otherwise engaged most of the time.

'Miss Linton...' Again, Lady Samantha glanced up at me. 'I hope I'm not being too presumptuous when I say that it would make an old woman very happy to see you dance with my son at the Christmas ball. I couldn't wish for a better gift.'

My breath caught. Was she hinting...

No.

It couldn't be.

But still...it sounded very much as if she was giving the two of us her blessing.

Oh Lord! How was I ever supposed to tell this sweet lady that her son had just proposed to me, and I had turned him down? I couldn't! It was that simple. I could tell Mr Rikkard Ambrose no without a second thought, but not his mother.

'I'll save a space on my dance card for him,' I promised. Among the three dozen other empty places that will probably be there.

Abruptly, Her Ladyship looked up, and in her eyes, I saw her heart bared. A mother's heart.

'And in your heart, Miss Linton? Will you save a space for him there, too?'

The blood drained from my face – then rushed back in a flush of heat. What was wrong with me? I never blushed! Never!

'W-what do you mean?'

You stuttered! You just stuttered!

She gazed up me with a sweetness that was more deadly than the coldest stare Mr Ambrose had ever given me. 'I think you know what I mean, Miss Linton.'

Oh crap.

I swallowed.

'Your son is...very dear to me,' I managed somehow. Don't ask me how. 'I care for him a great deal.'

'Has he asked you?'

By the tone in her voice I knew she wasn't talking about reserving a dance at the ball.

'No,' I told her, my ears turning red. He just ordered me.

She gazed at me for a moment longer – then seemed to reach some private conclusion, nodded to herself and took my hand, squeezing it gently. 'I'm really glad you're back, dear. I have a feeling things are going to work out very well.'

And, with that cryptic statement, she turned around and left the room.

*~*~**~*~*

'Attention, please, my Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen.' Lady Samantha picked up a fork and delicately struck it against a wineglass, evoking a pure, serene sound. 'I have an announcement to make.'

The whole table fell silent.

We were sitting at breakfast – Adaira, her mother, me and all the other guests. The only ones missing were iceberg senior and iceberg junior. I was just thanking God, the fates and any other deities within listening distance for the latter, when the French windows were thrust open and, among a swirl of snow and cold air, Rikkard Ambrose marched into the breakfast parlour. Shutting the French windows behind him, he strode to the table and took the empty seat right opposite me.

Oh crap.

'Um...well, as I was saying, my announcement...' Lady Samantha attempted a warm smile. It was no easy feat in the same room as Rikkard Ambrose, whose mere presence seemed to suck up all the warmth in a fifty-yard radius. 'We're having the Christmas ball tomorrow evening, on Christmas Eve. Isn't that wonderful?'

Mr Ambrose reached up, picked two nuts out of a bowl in in the middle of the table and closed his hand around them. His other hand came down in a lightning-fast move. There was an ear-splitting crack, and everyone flinched.

'Err...yes, Your Ladyship,' Major Strickland managed, watching Mr Ambrose calmly dissect the shattered nuts out of the corner of his eye. 'Most wonderful indeed.'

'We shall have such a merry time,' the marchioness enthused. 'I have hired the best musicians for the occasion, a quartet straight from Paris. They've played before King Louis Philippe and Emperor Ferdinand of Austria.'

'Then why,' Mr Ambrose asked, his voice as cold as a winter night, 'were they desperate enough to come here?'

Shoving the nuts into his mouth, he grabbed another pair.

Lady Samantha cleared her throat and tried to regain the attention of her audience. It wasn't easy.

'The celebrations will extend from the official opening of the Christmas ball over Christmas Day and Boxing Day.'

There was another crack. Mr Ambrose had broken another nut. This time, however, I'd be willing to bet my bowler that it was unintentional.

'Boxing Day?' he enquired, cold eyes raking his mother. 'You follow that...custom here?'

Lady Samantha held his gaze. 'We do.'

Giving an involuntary shudder, Mr Ambrose turned away. Part of me almost pitied him. Boxing Day – so called because of the Christmas boxes filled with presents that employers traditionally gave to all their faithful employees – was, to put it mildly, not Mr Ambrose's favourite day of the year. I remembered the one occasion on which one of his hundreds of clerks had dared to ask what he would be getting for Boxing Day, and Mr Ambrose had reacted by—

Well, some memories were better repressed.

'Now, as to the Christmas ball...'

Instantly, I forgot about my fork, and my attention snapped to Lady Samantha. So did the attention of every other lady in the room, particularly the hyenas.

'My husband is not feeling particularly well. So, this year, the Christmas ball will be opened by my son.'

Slowly and deliberately, Mr Ambrose raised his gaze to meet his mother's. 'What did you say?'

She met his gaze head-on. Dear me...I would never had thought the little old lady had it in her. 'I believe you heard me. There are so many charming young ladies present.' Lady Samantha's gaze swept over the assembled young women in the room, lingering just an instant on me. 'I'm sure you will find someone here that will suit you perfectly.'

At that, the eyes of the harpies practically started glowing. They fastened on Mr Ambrose with ravenous intent.

Mr Ambrose wasn't fazed. Cold eyes reviewed the collection of ladies arrayed before him. They went from one to the next and the next – until they reached me, and swept over me as if I didn't even exist. Budding hope that I hadn't even realised had begun to rise inside me was crushed under a mountain of ice.

What did you expect, Lilly? You turned the man down! Did you think he was going to ask you to dance after that? For what? Being turned down again?

As if he were reading my thoughts, Mr Ambrose's gaze suddenly snapped to me, and our eyes met.

Would I? Would I turn him down? For a marriage, yes, but for a dance? I suddenly realised that I wouldn't. I would happily spend a dance or two in Mr Ambrose's arms – even if it only was for the chance of stomping around on his feet a little.

Our eyes met again, and a shiver raced down my spine.

What is he thinking? What is going on in that granite head of his?

'By the way...' Lady Samantha's voice interrupted our duel of eyes. Everyone looked over to her.

'Yes, mother?'

'Elsby has informed me that a large number of...unconventional guests have invaded the servant's quarters.' She glanced at me – or rather, as I realised a moment later, behind me. I half-turned and saw four of the men who had been in my rescue party standing there in ill-fitting servants' livery. 'May I ask the reason for this?'

Once again, Mr Ambrose's cold, sea-colored eyes flicked to me. 'A...package needed delivering.'

Package? Package?

'Dozens of men for one single package?'

'It was a very important package.'

Well, thank you so much! Now I feel much better.

'And now that the delivery has been accomplished, will they leave?'

'Not just yet. They will accompany us on our way back south after Christmas is passed. One can never be too careful. The highway can be a dangerous place.'

Lady Samantha hesitated – then nodded. 'Very well. You are right. Your...friends are welcome to stay until then.'

The rest of the meal passed mostly in silence. Oh, don't get me wrong, the other ladies and gentlemen were quite loquacious, and the hyenas tried to draw Mr Ambrose into conversation more than once. They didn't seem to comprehend what I had known for a pretty long time: Mr Ambrose and conversations? Not a feasible mix.

But between Mr Ambrose and me, silence reigned. Silence that was punctuated only by the occasional glance out of the corner of an eye, and forceful use of cutlery. Our behaviour didn't go unnoticed. Lady Samantha threw more than one curious glance in our direction, and Adaira – well, she didn't content herself with glances. Her sea-coloured eyes were as piercing as the points of Poseidon's trident. I could practically hear her whisper in my ear: what is it? What's happened between my brother and you? Spit it out!

Luckily, spitting was against table manners. Still, her scrutiny was nearly as intimidating as that of Mr Rikkard Ambrose. When the dinner finally came to an end, I literally jumped at the chance to get away. I only mumbled a hasty excuse to Lady Samantha, then I was on my feet and heading towards the door, towards freedom–

–when a strong, hard hand closed around my wrist.

'Miss Linton. A word?'

Oh, that cool, collected voice...

What is he thinking?

He wanted a word! With me! Was he going to ask me to open the ball with him?

But when I turned around and saw the icy determination in his eyes, I knew Mr Ambrose hadn't come to ask anything. He had come to demand.

'Last chance, Miss Linton.' His voice was too low for anyone to overhear – but everyone was watching. Everyone. Especially the hyenas. Oh, and Lady Samantha. And Adaira. Spiffing! 'Have you reconsidered my offer?'

I raised an eyebrow at him. 'Have you reconsidered mine?'

Good God! I'm asking him in front of a room full of people including his sister and mother if he'd like to dance the fandango de pokum with me!

'No.'

I gave him my best 'kiss my generous butt' smile. 'What a shame.'

With one tug, I pulled my hand free of his grip. He gazed at me for a moment longer – then whirled around and stalked out of the room, the tails of his coat flapping behind him like raven's wings.

I stood there for a moment, unable to move, gazing after him.

That moment was enough for the huntress to catch up to me.

'What was all that about?' a familiar voice hissed into my ear.

'Oh. Hello, Lady Adaira. What a lovely morning it is, don't you think?'

'Really? Talking about the weather?' She raised an eyebrow. 'Is that the best you can do? I would have expected a more imaginative evasion tactic from you.'

To be honest, so would I. But right now, my brain isn't working very well.

She stepped forward, her sea-coloured eyes, so terribly familiar, boring into me.

'What happened between you and my brother?'

I smiled. 'Don't worry. I didn't seduce him and rob him of his virtue.' Yet. 'We've merely had a...difference of opinion.'

'Ha! And I am Father Christmas.'

'Well, now that you mention it, I think I see the beginnings of a white beard growing on your face.'

Adaira was not deterred so easily. One small hand took hold of mine and squeezed gently, caringly – and suddenly I wanted to tell her. I wanted to have a shoulder to cry on. My usual shoulders, attached to my little sister and four best friends, were nowhere in the vicinity, and Adaira was here, and she was strong and understanding, and...

Could I tell her? Would she understand, or would she blame me?

Leaning forward, she pierced me with her foreceful gaze and put an arm around me. 'Tell me! What has that brother of mine done to make an arse of himself this time?'

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank you! Thank you God, for sending me a girl with the right perspective on life!

'He...he...'

I tried to get the words out. But with dozens of curious eyes still on us, they just wouldn't come. The tension of the last few days had built up inside me. I longed for the dam to break and the flood to burst out of me, but not here. Not now.

Instinctively, Adaira seemed to understand. Her grip on my hand tightened, and she pulled me towards a door that lead to the hallway.

'Come. I know a place where we can talk. And besides...' A mischievous grin spread across her face. 'If my brother has done something to deserve your ire, Miss Linton, I know just the right way to let off some steam.'