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‘Hm. Very well.” He held out his hand towards me, and before even thinking about it, I took it. ‘Let’s go, shall we?”
My heart made a leap. This was it! The big moment. I wasn’t of age yet. Not quite. If I wanted to marry this man, as much as I detested the fact, I needed another man’s permission. Of course, I could always wait a few months, but…
Out of the corner of my eyes, I glanced at Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s sublime profile.
Nah. Waiting was out.
‘Let’s go!’ I said and, together, my husband-to-be and I marched towards the stairs, following my aunt. Slowly, we ascended the stairs, the old wood beneath our feet creaking ominously. We came to a stop at the dark door at the end of the landing.
‘Husband?’ Clearing her throat, she knocked at the door. ‘I’ve brought Mr—’
‘Ah,’ a familiar growl came from inside. ‘The madman is here, is he?’
‘Husband!’
‘Do you have to remind me, woman? It’s painful enough every day when I see that ring on my finger. Get the two of them in here!’
‘Y-yes.’
Aunt Brank opened the door, and I stepped through before she managed to realize she was actually politely holding the door for me. Her suddenly souring face as I stepped past was a fabulous sight.
Unfortunately, it was superseded by the grim face of Uncle Bufford, sitting behind his desk with his fingers steepled. Mr Ambrose followed me into the room and the door closed with a click behind us.
‘Hm. Hello, Girl.’
‘Hello.’
Uncle Bufford’s eyes flicked to Mr Ambrose.
‘You are…?’
‘I,’ he informed uncle Bufford, ‘am the man who is going to marry your niece Lillian.’
‘Confident? Good, good.’ His brows furrowed. ‘If you can back it up, that is. Name?’
Mr Ambrose’s eyes flashed with the pride of a man who knew his name meant something. ‘Rikkard Ambrose.’
‘Hm. That one.’
‘Yes.’
‘I see.’
&nbs
p; ‘Indeed.’
Yes…this conversation was about as full of scintillating rhetoric as I had expected.
‘You seem like a gentleman.’ Uncle Bufford leaned forward. ‘But this little girl is very precious to me. So you understand I have to make sure…’
‘Yes.’
I couldn’t help but feel moved. Precious? I was precious to him?
‘So,’ he growled, ‘how much are you willing to pay for her?’
Precious?
