Page 103 of Storm of Bells
I stepped to the side, just in time to seeLady Samantha come rushing down the front steps. Completelyignoring her son, she rushed past him and, a moment later, threwher arms around me to hug me close.
‘Did I hear right? You took care of hiringsome reliable people? Oh, Lilly, you’re wonderful! I searched andsearched, but haven’t been able to find a single servant in theentire house! I have no idea where all my son’s staff ran off to,but whoever they were, they certainly can’t be relied upon if theyvanish at the first hint of guests arriving! And neither,’ sheadded, with a meaningful look at her son, ‘can the man who hiredthem. Aren’t you glad you have such a caring fiancée with so muchforesight?’
‘Glad. Foresight.’ Mr Ambrose swallowed. Isaw a certain muscle in his cheek twitch. ‘Yes. So glad.Very…glad…indeed.’
‘Aww! That’s so sweet of you, Darling.’Reaching up, I cupped his face and batted my eyelashes at him.‘You’re always so sweet to me.’
That muscle twitched again.
‘Perhaps you could let go of her, Mother. I’dlike to show Miss Linton in private how “glad” exactly I am aboutall the things she has done.’
‘No need.’ Slipping out of his mother’sembrace, I stood up on my tiptoes and pressed a kiss on his cheek.‘I know just how much you appreciate me.’
‘Indeed?’ His eyes glittered frostily. ‘I’mquite certain you fail to understand the full scope of what I feelin this moment.’
‘Oh, isn’t this sweet!’ Clutching her handstogether, Lady Samantha gazed at us with pink hearts blinking inher eyes. ‘I can just see that nothing will keep the two of youapart. I’ll go down to the church and visit the vicar, to make surethat everything is ready for—’
She was interrupted by a low rumbling. We allturned, just in time to see a coach and a curricle come up thedriveway.
‘Who’s that?’ Mr Ambrose demanded.
‘That,’ I told him, beaming, ‘must be thevicar.’
Lady Samantha jumped with joy. ‘Lilly! Youreally do think of everything!’
‘Oh,’ I tagged on and pointed at the largecoach, ‘and, of course, some of the servants we hired.’
Mr Ambrose didnotjump with joy.
‘We?’
‘Yes. After all, that’s the whole point withthis idea of marriage, isn’t it? What’s mine is yours, and what’syours is mine.’
For the first time since I had met him allthose years and months ago, I saw a flash of genuine fear in MrRikkard Ambrose’s eyes. His little left finger twitched.
‘Do. Not. Remind. Me.’
Leaning over towards him, I reached behindhim, slid my hand under the tails of his tailcoat—and squeezed.
He jerked.
‘What’s yours is mine,’ I whispered—thenglanced down at myself, and then up at him with a meaningful look.‘And what’s mine is yours.’
A croak issued from the back of histhroat.
‘See? All of a sudden it doesn’t sound so badanymore, does it?’
‘Miss Linton?’
‘Yes, Sir?’
‘Move. Your. Hand.’
‘My apologies.’ I batted my eyelashes up athim. ‘Where would you like me to move it to?’
Just then, the coach and the curricle came toa halt in front of the manor, and the vicar, followed by a gaggleof curious females, alighted.
‘Away.’
