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‘You told me to come in my best clothes. This is it.’ Smiling, I did another twirl. Under normal circumstances, I would have rather eaten dead rats than twirled for a man, but these weren’t normal circumstances. The non-expression on Mr Ambrose’s face was worth every bit of the twirl! ‘I purchased it a while ago, intending to save it for a special occasion, and…well, this is a royal wedding.’
‘I pay you to appear in men’s clothes, Mr Linton!’
‘During office hours.’ I gestured at the street behind me, where hundreds of people were walking, riding and cycling, all in one direction: towards the wedding. ‘Does this look like the office to you? In fact, as the Queen’s wedding day, isn’t this an official holiday?’
Mr Ambrose looked at me for a moment, doing his best to freeze me with his gaze. But I had been in his employ for some time now and had grown amazingly freeze-resistant.
‘Well?’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘Is it?’
One more moment of silence, then: ‘It is.’
Oh, I just loved it when his voice sounded like frostbite.
‘Very well, then.’ With a smile, I offered him my arm. ‘Shall we go?’
He stood there for another moment, struggling with himself. With my outstretched arm, I nudged him in the ribs. ‘Come on. It’ll be like old times.’
‘I have no idea what you mean, Mr Linton.’
Really? How about a certain trip to Egypt last year during which you had me pretend to be your wife, danced with me in the fanciest hotel in Alexandria and then took me up to my room and started tearing my clothes off?
‘Of course not, Sir.’
‘But we shall go.’ He took my arm and steered me towards the chaise. ‘We have wasted enough time already.’
‘Ah, yes. But before we go…’ I turned my eyes on Mr Ambrose
’s massive bodyguard. ‘Karim?’
The bearded mountain looked stunned that the atrociously female creature in front of him had actually dared to address him. Finally, he managed a ‘Yes?’
‘Get rid of that puny little chaise and call us a real coach, will you?’ I gave them both a smile. ‘After all, you wouldn’t want to show up at the Queen’s Wedding in that old thing when you have a beautiful lady on your arm, would you?’
*~*~**~*~*
By the time we reached our destination, my mood wasn’t quite as sunny anymore, for a very good reason.
‘Ah.’ Stepping outside, Mr Ambrose gazed around the square. ‘The perfect day for a royal wedding.’
I followed him outside and immediately was engulfed by a torrent of icy rain. Even when I had managed to open my parasol, it offered scant protection against the downpour. Thunder rolled in the distance.
‘Y-you have a d-damn f-funny idea of the p-perfect wedding d-day,’ I chattered.
‘Indeed?’
‘Bloody hell, yes, indeed! What is so perfect about everyone getting soaked?’
‘Simple: everyone hurries up to get home and not too much valuable time is wasted on a superfluous ceremony.’
‘S-superfluous? What’s superfluous about a wedding?’
‘If two people decide it would be enjoyable to be chained to one another for the rest of their lives, that’s their affair. But I do not see why they have to bother me with it and make such a fuss.’
Ignoring the rain as if it weren’t there, Mr Ambrose strode off across the square. ‘Are you coming, Mr Linton, or do you intend to laze about here all day?’
‘C-coming, Sir!’
Even through the torrential rain, I could clearly see the multitudes of people that had gathered outside of St James’s Palace. The fact that they were being drenched didn’t seem to quench their enthusiasm the least little bit. They were chanting the Queen’s name, and that of her bridegroom, although I heard at least a dozen versions of his funny-sounding German last name, none of which were probably correct.
