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‘P-please excuse our behaviour.’ Aunt Brank sank into the deepest curtsey I had ever seen her make. ‘We were simply taken aback by having the chance to great such an eminent personage as yourself in our humble home. It is quite an honour.’
‘Yes. It is.’
‘Maria? What’s the hold up?’ Anne appeared behind her twin sister and tapped on her shoulder. She received no reaction whatsoever. ‘Maria? What’s the matter? What are you staring at? Who—grk!’
Dear me.
Mr Ambrose did have a talent for abruptly silencing people, didn’t he?
Normally, watching my twin demon sisters wasn’t one of my favourite hobbies. But right now, it was well worth it. Smirking, I leaned against the wall and decided to enjoy the show. This was promising to be a most entertaining afternoon.
‘Lillian Linton! What are you doing, slouching against the wall with that silly smile on your face? Can’t you see we have an important guest? Go and fetch some refreshments, quick!’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Mr Ambrose cut in. ‘In fact, it would be counterproductive for her to leave. The reason I’ve come here today is that I have a matter to discuss with your husband. A matter regarding Miss Lillian.’
‘R-regarding Lillian?’ Never had I seen my aunt go so pale so fast. By the looks of it, I should go fetch smelling salts, not refreshments. ‘Please, Mr Ambrose, whatever she’s done, we’ll make sure she pays for the damage!’
Thank you so much for the trust and faith you put in me, Aunt. It really means a lot.
‘Lillian, you bad, bad girl!’ Turning to me with fury blazing in her eyes, Aunt Brank waved her hand in my face. I was only glad she’d let go of the carpet beater, or I might have been laid flat. ‘How dare you insult a personage like Mr Rikkard Ambrose? Don’t you know anything? He is one of the most important people in the entire empire! Why, it is even rumoured that he has connections to the royal family!’
You mean the fellows whose wedding we attended? That royal family?
‘You miserable little unfilial girl! You’re simply hopeless! Stupid! Worthless! And anyone who says different deserves to be flogged, tarred, feathered, and driven out of town!’
Oh, they do, do they? Demonstratively, I tried not looking at Mr Rikkard Ambrose. Now that’s something I’d like to see.
‘Why in goddness’s name are you smirking, you worthless wench?’ Shaking her head, my aunt turned back to Mr Ambrose. ‘I simply do not know what to do with her. Please, Mr Ambrose, whatever this unfilial niece of mine has done to deserve your ire, she’ll do anything to appease you! We’ll do anything!’
‘You will?’ He cocked his head. ‘I see. That simplifies matters. Then let me marry her.’
‘Of course, Sir! You may punish her in any way you—wait, what?’
I had seen my aunt stunned with shock plenty of times. The first time I had stuck a frog into her shoe, for instance. Or that one memorable occasion on which Uncle Bufford had actually gone so far as to come down for breakfast and say ‘good morning’ to her. But never ever in my life had I seen her so utterly flabbergasted as right then.
They said getting married would bring a girl the greatest joy of her life.
What do you know? They’d actually been right.
‘P-pardon? Mr Ambrose, I think I heard you incorrectly. What did you say?’
Uh-oh…
I couldn’t help but grin into my hand.
His arctic eyes narrowed infinitesimally. ‘Did I not mention that I do not like to repeat myself? I said I wish to marry her. As in contract matrimonial relations? That is the reason for my coming here today.’
‘Marry?’ She asked once more, faintly. ‘Lillian?’
Clearly, she was having trouble imagining any reasonably sane male putting those two words in the same sentence.
One of my sisters raised their hands. ‘Err…are you sure you have the right house, Sir? I think another Lillian lives that way, five houses down the road. She’s thirty-five and has a clubfoot, but she’s a very nice girl.’
Thank you very much for your vote of confidence!
‘What,’ Mr Ambrose enquired, his icy gaze sweeping the room, ‘did I just say about repeating myself?’
Everyone instinctively took a step backwards and bowed their heads. Everyone but me, that is. My sisters didn’t fail to notice the straightforward, completely unintimidated way I looked at Mr Rikkard Ambrose, perhaps the most powerful man in the entire British Empire. Their faces instantly changed complexions. Lisbeth and Gertrude went pale. Ella flushed with joy. And as for Anne and Maria, they couldn’t have been more green with envy if they’d been frogs in my aunt’s shoes.
