Page 120 of Storm of Bells
‘Certainly. Your Ladyship, may I introduceMiss Amy Weston? Amy, this is the Lady Samantha Genevieve Ambrose,The Marchioness Ambrose and my future mother-in-law.’
‘Really? Spiffin’!’ Amy threw her arms arounda startled marchioness and hugged her close to her riskydécolletage. ‘Lilly’s told me so much about ye!’
‘I-is that so?’ The swaying marchionessreadjusted her hat. ‘How very kind of her.’
‘And let’s not forget my beloved fiancé,shall we?’ I turned to smile at him. ‘Mr Ambrose, may Iintroduce…oh, I completely forgot!’ I smacked my forehead. ‘Youalready met Amy, didn’t you?’
‘Pardon?’ I had the distinct pleasure ofseeing Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s eyebrows shooting up zero dot zero zeroone millimetre. ‘I don’t think so. I believe I would remember.’
‘Well…I guess you didn’tactuallymeet.’ I gave him a cheerful smile. ‘I suppose you just missed eachother. Do you remember that night we met that charming Mr Cox?’
The instant that name was out of my mouth, MrAmbrose’s entire figure stiffened. His eyes frosted over and hisleft little finger started telegraphing Morse code. ProbablySOS.
‘You sent me upstairs to keep myselfentertained with the ladies while the two of you discussedbusiness, remember?’ Reaching up, I patted his cheek, fondly. ‘Amywas the one who was kind enough to entertain me that day and…mygoodness, did she entertain me! We had so much fun together that Istarted visiting her on a regular basis, and the two of us havebecome very,veryclose friends.’
‘Oh, you have, have you?’ There was murderblazing in Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s eyes. Cold-blooded, ravenousmurder.
‘Oh yes.’ I winked. ‘She could give you a tipor two about how to treat a lady.’
‘She could, could she?’
‘Honoured to meet ye, guv.’ Grinning withmore cheek than a misspelled check, Amy performed another curtsy.‘And I’d be ‘appy to give ye tips any time ye like. Sometimes, menjust can’t do as well as they’d like to. It’s nothing to be ashamedof.’
Mr Rikkard Ambrose had just opened his mouthto reply—or to devour me alive in vengeance, who could besure?—when a curse issued from the hay pile. We glanced over, butthe driver of the wagon was still fast asleep.
‘’ey! Why ‘ave we stopped? What’s the matter,Amy? Do ye finally ‘ave enough of dis wild goose chase?’
‘Goose chase my high-priced arse!’ Amyexclaimed, marching back to the wagon. She rummaged around in thehay for a moment or two—then came across a foot and grabbedhold.
‘’ey! Let go!’
‘Fat chance! Get yer butt over ‘ere! I’ve gotsomethin’ to show you!’
And she tugged.
‘Err…brought some friends?’ I enquired,cautiously stepping up to her side.
Looking up at me, she grinned. ‘I ‘ope yedon’t mind. When I told me friends I was gonna go to a lord’swedding at a manor in da country, for some reason they didn’t seemto believe me.’
‘Imagine that.’
‘I know, right? Like I’d ever do anything asdastardly as lie.’
She tugged at the foot again, and this time,it moved. A moment later, an ankle appeared, followed by legs.Quite evidently, one hundred twenty per cent female legs. The eyesof the assembled male aristocrats went wide, unable to waver fromthe sight. Somewhere farther back in the pile of hay, a thirdvoice, slightly drowsy, asked, ‘What’s da matter? Are da oxen bein’watered?’
The head of a young woman appeared fromamidst the hay. She was a pretty thing. Under her somewhatexcessive make-up was a fresh and friendly face that, right in thatmoment, seemed rather taken aback to have about three dozen lordsand ladies from London’s high society staring at her.
‘Oh. Um. ‘ello?’
Raising a hand, she waved.
‘Hello, dear,’ responded the marchioness withunflappable good cheer. ‘My goodness, have you poor dears beenriding in that horrid hay wagon for long? What happened? Did yourcoach break a wheel?’
‘Coach?’ The girl in the hay blinked. ‘Whatcoach? We ain’t got—ow!’
‘What me friend Cora means to say,’ Amyproclaimed, taking the heel of her foot off her friend’s maltreatedfingers, ‘is dat our coach broke down a few miles ‘way from ‘ere,and dis nice gent,’ she prodded the farmer, who gave a particularlygusty snore and continued to slumber, ‘was kind enough to give us aride.’
‘And your things?’ Lady Samantha asked,looking around in vain for the dozen or so suitcases ladiesnormally had with them. ‘Your luggage?’
