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‘Good morning, Mr Linton,’ Mr Stone greeted me cheerfully as I stomped down the hallway on my way to my office.
Then he caught sight of my face.
I threw him a glare. ‘Who said anything about good?’
‘Um…’ He swallowed. ‘My mistake. Mr Ambrose is waiting for you.’
I bet he is! But right now, that doesn’t matter! I have to think up a way to get out of town, a way to get away from my aunt. I don’t have time for Mr High and Mighty Ambro-
My thoughts cut off abruptly as an idea struck me. It wasn’t gentle about striking me, either. It gave me a hefty wallop in the head.
Mr Ambrose! That was it. The last two times I had left England - the only two times, in fact - it had been in the company of Mr Ambrose, to take care of problems presented by the many and varied business interests that he possessed all over the globe. The two of us had invaded the secret headquarters of Lord Dalgliesh, had sailed to France, traversed the deserts of Egypt and fought robbers and hired killers together! Surely he could come up with some more robbers to kill in some desolate corner of the earth, preferably more than five hundred miles away from my dear aunt?
‘Mr Linton, I can hear you breathing out there!’ a familiar cold voice cut through the door of Mr Ambrose’s office. ‘Get in here! You are already twenty-seven seconds late.’
‘Work calls,’ I informed Mr Stone and, pushing the door open, sauntered into the office with a broad smile on my face. ‘Good morning, Sir! It is a wonderful morning, is it not?’
Cold silence greeted me.
I don’t know whether you’ve ever been greeted by cold silence before. In case you haven’t, let me tell you - it doesn’t make for a great welcome party.
‘The perfect weather for a walk in the park,’ I added, trying to keep the bright smile on my face. ‘Or a trip to the country. Or maybe, I don’t know…even a longer journey?’
A pair of dark, sea-coloured eyes found my face. ‘Get the balance sheets, Mr Linton!’
Not a very promising start, I had to admit to myself as I hurried to do his bidding. I would have preferred ‘Of course, Mr Linton! Let’s go to Honolulu!’ But if Mr Ambrose ever made things easy, he wouldn’t be Mr Ambrose - or would have stopped breathing. Though, on second thought, I wouldn’t put it past his corpse to try and order me around.
‘You know,’ I mused, putting down the balance sheets in front of him, ‘You look a little pale, Sir.’
Those dark eyes met mine. ‘Your point being, Mr Linton?’
‘A journey to sunnier climes would do you a world of good,’ I said encouragingly.
‘I’ll take this half. And you-’ Mr Ambrose lifted half of the balance sheets off the stack and slammed them down in front of me on the desk, ‘take this.’
‘France is very beautiful at this time of year, I hear.’
‘I expect you to be finished in no more than two hours.’
‘So is Italy. I’ve heard that in the Toscanan-’
‘Mr Linton?’
‘Yes, Sir?’
‘What are you going to do now?’
‘Work through balance sheets, Sir.’
‘And what are you not going to do?’
I thought for a moment. ‘Waste time talking about Italy, Sir?’
‘Exactly. Get to work.’
And I got to work.
Half an hour later I was through about one fifth of the pile and hoping sincerely that Mr Ambrose’s accountants had done their job properly. I had leafed through the balance sheets, but I hadn’t exactly read anything while leafing. Well, how could I? How could anyone? If you were being threatened by a marriage to a rich British nobleman, you would have been just as crazy with worry as poor little me!
