19. Thinking Inside the Box

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Lord Dalgliesh froze.

'You two know each other?' The king seemed delighted. 'What a happy coincidence!'

'Yes.' The foreign minister's eyes were darting between Mr Ambrose and His Lordship. 'What a coincidence, vraiment.'

Slowly, Dalgliesh came out of his paralysis. Somehow he managed to force a smile onto his face. 'Mr Ambrose. I was not aware you were in Paris.'

Mr Ambrose cocked his head. 'Sometimes fate just puts one in the right spot at the right time.'

He extended his hand. Looking as if he was being forced to swallow an adder whole, Lord Dalgliesh reached out and shook it. It was obvious that, whatever he had planned for tonight, meeting Mr Rikkard Ambrose was not high on the list. I couldn't help it. I grinned from ear to ear. Apparently broadly enough for Dalgliesh to notice me.

'Miss Linton. What an...unexpected pleasure.' His eyes glittered. 'You left so suddenly last time we met.'

My smile didn't even flicker. 'I found the surroundings somewhat constricting.' Particularly the locked door and armed guard in front of my cell. 'But I hope that sometime soon, I'll be able to repay your hospitality in kind.'

One of Dalgliesh's eyebrows rose. 'Is that so, Miss Linton?'

'Yes,' Mr Ambrose said from right beside me, his voice as cold as the frost on an polar bear's bottom. 'Now sit down, will you? The show is about to begin. And what a show it'll be...'

'So you've seen this opera before, Mr Ambrose?' the king asked, intrigued.

'No, Your Majesty. But I have a feeling it will be a life-changing experience.'

As Lord Dalglesh slowly sank into his seat behind Mr Ambrose, I caught another glimpse at the foreign minister. He was scrutinizing everyone intently, his sharp eyes focusing particularly on Mr Ambrose and His Lordship. When his gaze strayed to me, I winked at him.

He blinked.

By the looks of him, I had been the first one to ever do that. Poor man. I waved at him, just for the fun of it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a motion. Lord Dalgliesh was leaning forward, towards Mr Ambrose.

'What,' he hissed, too low for anyone else to hear, 'are you planning?'

'Shh.' Mr Ambrose raised one long finger to his lips. 'Can't you hear? The performance is about to begin.'

'Tell me now! Or I'll...I'll...'

'I'd be very cautious with what you say.' Mr Ambrose's voice was low, cool and controlled, but no tiger's roar could have been more threatening. 'Remember where you are, Dalgliesh, and in whose company.'

'The king can't—'

'I wasn't talking about the king.'

Dalgliesh shut his mouth. He was seething, but he was silent. He had no idea whether Mr Ambrose had come alone or brought a battalion of men with him. No one knew. Not even I. Just as Mr Ambrose wanted it.

'Relax. Be patient. You'll soon find out what I have planned for tonight.'

Never in my life would I have thought I'd hear Mr Rikkard Ambrose tell someone to be patient. And never in my life would I have thought I'd enjoy the experience so much. The look on Dalgliesh's face was priceless.

'Your Majesty.' He leaned forward abruptly. 'I just recollected some urgent business I have to take care of. Would you excuse me, please, to—'

'Psht! Not now, Dalgliesh. The performance is starting.'

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