Silence Breaking

24. Princified

I woke up next morning with a plan formed ready in my mind. And, oh, what a beautifully diabolical plan it was. Lying in my warm bed, gazing up at the portraits of fat little cherubs on the ceiling, I smiled. Poor Karim... He had no idea what I had in store for him.

Rising, I slipped into my female guise and, whistling merrily, stepped out of the room. Karim was already awaiting me and followed on my heels as I made my way down to breakfast. And when I say 'on my heels', that was less of a metaphor than I would have liked it to be. More than once I had to suppress a yelp of pain as the tips of his shoes stabbed into my ankles.

Patience, Lilly. Patience. Vengeance shall be thine.

When I entered the breakfast parlour still whistling and smiling, Mr Ambrose threw me a suspicious glance. But what could he say? You look suspiciously happy this morning. What are you up to?

Not the kind of thing you ask a lady in front of your mother and two dozen guests.

'You look suspiciously happy this morning. What are you up to?'

Unless your name is Rikkard Ambrose, of course.

'Rick!' From across the table Lady Samantha sent her son a reproachful look, which he completely ignored. I gave him a friendly smile.

'Oh, nothing. I guess I'm just in a good mood this fine morning. Good as in "positive" or "buoyant". In case you'd like to find out the meaning of those words, you'll find them under p and b in the dictionary.'

Several of the gentlemen at the table chuckled. The ladies didn't, but then again, you can't really expect hyenas to laugh at an antelope's joke. Unless maybe it starts with 'A lame antelope came into a bar full of hyenas waiting for their dinner, and...'

Breakfast passed without any major events. Now and then, Mr Rikkard Ambrose threw me a suspicious look or two, but since he did the same with the lady next to him, who was trying to get his attention through giggling and eyelash-batting, I wasn't particularly worried he was suspecting something. Oh no, he felt secure in the knowledge that his big, bearded bulldog would follow me wherever I went.

Big mistake.

After breakfast, the gentlemen departed. Most to go shooting or riding, a few, like Mr Ambrose, to burrow into their happy world of paperwork and business correspondence, from which this inconvenient Christmas invitation had so cruelly torn them. Only we ladies remained behind. Soon, most were engaged in activities traditionally associated with the fair sex – needlework, mindless little musicales, and general undermining of the feminist cause. Only one little detail didn't quite fit into the homely idyll...

'Um...what is he doing here?' Adaira whispered, leaning over to me and, as inconspicuously as possible, pointing at Karim. The giant Mohammedan was standing in one corner of the room, arms crossed, spearing a young lady doing her needlework with a glare so fierce, you'd think he suspected her of planning an assassination by needle-stabbing, or maybe yarn-garrotting.

I pulled a face. 'Haven't you heard? Since my little adventure in Newcastle, I have my own personal bodyguard. He follows me everywhere.'

'Everywhere? Even to the–'

'Yes.'

'Inside?'

'If he tries that, I'll stab him with my parasol.'

'Good for you!'

I sighed. 'But it's bad enough as it is. I stumble over him everywhere I go. I hardly have a moment's peace anymore. And it's all so unreasonable! I'm perfectly safe here. I don't know why he insists on it! Your brother–'