Call Me Ifrit

Chapter 3

What...What was he doing here?

"Lilly? Are you quite alright?"

Why was he here? Was Lord Dalgliesh here? Was he here to confront him?

"Lilly, you've gone pale! Pray, what's the matter? Who is that?"

My employer.

"I have no idea," I croaked out. "I'll bet Aunt knows."

I brushed past Mr. Mouse and towed Ella behind me towards our family; he was too preoccupied with staring at the ominous figure at the entrance, like most others. I had the strong urge to blend in. I wasn't sure why, but I really, really didn't want him to see me. I was being beyond silly, I knew. He had seen me in a dress. He had seen me in far less than that, too! But we were in London now. This was not the Egyptian desert or the Amazonian jungle. This was the society we lived in. And except for a few rare occasions, I was dressed in my pants and tailcoat while around him. Here, now, I felt like a different person.

Curiosity was eating me alive as Ella inquired about the man I knew all-too well. I wanted nothing more than to march up to him and ask what he was doing here. It had to be a business matter. But what? He hadn't mentioned any sort of unusual business in London that would require his attendance at a ball. I organized his schedule; I would know.

"That's Mr. Ambrose," my aunt gushed. "Word has it he is the richest man in London."

"I thought it was in England," a neighboring gossiper tittered.

"I heard he was the richest man in all the motherland and colonies!" another whispered excitedly. "Imagine, the richest Britain aside from her Majesty!"

I could practically see the dozens of targets on Mr. Ambrose as every mother, aunt, or caretaker with a daughter realized exactly who he was and, more importantly, how much money he had. If only they knew his poor wife would have an allowance so miniscule, she would be little better off than a beggar.

That is, if he ever bothered with a wife. Weddings were far too expensive occasions for his taste, not to mention the wasted time. Knowledge is power is time is money, as he said.

Slowly, Mr. Ambrose surveyed the room, obviously searching for something. Or someone. His finger twitched, a telltale sign of his annoyance, before he briskly descended the steps and disappeared into the crowd. The music started up again, and soon the room was filled with deafening amounts of voices discussing the man that would make Lady Agatha the most popular hostess for years. She had secured the attendance of one of the most famous men in London.

"Girls, quickly! Fix yourselves! Remember your manners. Be charming. Smile and flutter your eyelashes! Use your fans!" Aunt barked at us.

"You're not going to introduce us, are you?" Ella gasped, stealing the words right from my mouth. I could only imagine his reaction. She would be lucky to escape without him demanding money for his time being wasted!

"I most certainly am! You're all pretty enough, perhaps he will like what he sees!" she admonished. She sniffed when she glanced at me. "Well, most of you are pretty."

Then again, maybe his reaction would be worth it.

I smiled tightly, clenching my jaw to stop myself from saying anything. I debated making a run for it, but I was sure Karim was outside waiting for any threat to show itself. He definitely saw me as a threat. I was his favorite ifrit.

Deciding that I didn't have a better plan—and I honestly preferred facing Karim instead of the embarrassment of my family—I inched my way away from my sisters fluffing their hair and straightening their dresses. Once I was blocked from their view, I dashed toward the exit.