Lord of the Silent: A Novel of Suspense Read Free

temper perfectly well when she wants to. She only uses it to get her own way." "Are you volunteering to break the news?" his wife inquired sweetly. "I'd as soon face a charging lion," Ramses said with considerable feeling. Nefret laughed, and I said, "I trust, Ramses, you do not include me in your blanket condemnation of female ineptitude." "Good Lord, no. You're the only one in the family who can handle her. I'm afraid it's up to you, Mother." "Oh, dear," I murmured. "I would really rather not." Nefret let out another of her rich chuckles. "It is comical to see the two of you confronting one another. The resemblance is strong in any case, but when you are both in a temper it's like seeing two Aunt Amelias, one grown up and the other six years old." Though Nefret usually called me Mother, sometimes she slipped and referred to me by the name she had used for so many years. I didn't mind. What I did mind was the assumption-shared, it was clear, by all parties-that it was up to me to reason with Sennia. She seldom tried her tricks on me, but if anything could throw her into a tantrum, it would be the threat of being separated from Ramses. She loved all of us, but he was her idol-foster father, elder brother, playmate, rescuer. "Oh, very well," I said. "I am accustomed to having all the unpleasant tasks left to me. I will speak with her tomorrow. Or the next day." "Or the day after?" Ramses suggested. I gave him a hard look and Nefret gave him a pinch-little reminders that if he continued to amuse himself at my expense he might find himself saddled with the job after all. The lines at the corners of his mouth deepened, but he said meekly, "Thank you, Mother." "Hmph," I said. "That is settled, then. I will begin making my usual lists, and you, Emerson, will find out about sailings. I trust you have not forgotten that we are dining out this evening." None of us enjoys formal dinner parties, and visits to London were not pleasant these days. However, this had been an invitation we could not easily decline. The Cecils were one of the oldest and most prominent of the English noble families. They had served their country as soldiers and parliamentarians; the father of the present marquess had been Prime Minister and Foreign Secretary. Social snobbery is a weakness from which I do not suffer. The first overture from Lord Salisbury had been for a weekend at Hatfield-an invitation for which many would have unhesitatingly sold their souls to Old Nick-but even if I had been inclined to accept, Emerson had put his foot down flatly on that. "Good Gad, Amelia, have you taken leave of your senses? Three days with a mixed bag of vapid women and hunting squires and bleating politicians? I would run amok after three hours." "You know what he wants, don't you?" "Yes," said Emerson, through his teeth. "And he is not going to get it." Salisbury did not give up so easily. A second invitation, to dinner at the family mansion in London, followed soon after my declining the first. I knew perfectly well that he was not moved by a desire to make our acquaintance; he was under pressure from other persons who were not inclined to give up easily either. I pointed this out to my grumbling husband, and he finally agreed that we might as well face his lordship down and put an end to the matter once and for all. He began grumbling again as we dressed, for Emerson hates formal attire. It took the combined efforts of myself and Rose, our devoted housekeeper, to get him into his evening clothes and locate his studs and cufflinks, and he might have backed out if I had not agreed to his demand that he drive the motorcar instead of letting the chauffeur do so. Such little concessions are necessary if the marital state is to flourish. It was a concession on my part, for Emerson drives with a panache that keeps one in a constant state of trepidation. There was less traffic than usual, however; since the zeppelin raids had begun, a blackout was in effect and most people