Page 12 of Storm of Bells
It was only then that I realized the chaisehad come to a stop. By the time I had recovered from my surprise,Mr Ambrose was already out of my arms and out of the chaise.
‘Well, what are you waiting for, Mr Linton?Knowledge is power is time is money!’
Throwing Karim a dirty look, I followed MrAmbrose and made a mental note to have my dressmaker prepare aflower girl dress in size XXL.
The building Mr Ambrose and I wereapproaching was by no means as big as Empire House, yet it stillwas an impressive behemoth. Three stories high, it had an elegantlypainted façade, with cheerful flowerbeds stretching in front of theentrance, and a fountain tinkling in the front yard. A doorman in ashiny blue-and-gold uniform stood at the front door.
I threw Mr Ambrose a look.
‘Are you sure this is one of youroffices?’
A muscle in his cheek twitched. ‘Myadvertising directors assured me it was vital to project a positiveimage.’
‘And a costly one?’
‘Let’s just say that I will not be pleased ifthey do not deliver on their promises of success.’
We strode towards the doorman. Stepping inour way, the man let his eyes drift haughtily over the thinnerspots in Mr Ambrose’s ten-year-old mint-condition tailcoat.
‘You seem to have lost your way, Sir. Can Ihelp you?’
‘Yes. You can get out of my way.’
‘I’m afraid I cannot do that, Sir.’
Oh dear. R.I.P., dear doorman.
‘Indeed?’ Two dark, ice-cold eyes wanderedover the doorman’s figure. ‘I’m sure Mr Humphreys and Mr Byrd wouldhave something to say about that.’
‘Mr Humphreys? Mr Byrd?’ The doorman’s Adam’sapple bobbled. ‘How do you know the names of the directors of—’
Mr Ambrose didn’t say a thing. He justreached into his pocket, pulled out his card and handed it to thedoorman. The poor fellow took one look at the thing, blanched andjumped aside.
‘I-I’m s-so sorry, Mr Ambrose, Sir! Of courseyou may go in immediately, Sir. Mr Humphreys and Mr Byrd areexpecting you, Sir.’
‘Adequate. Card?’
The doorman blinked. ‘You…you want mycard?’
‘Of course not! I want mine back. Do you haveany idea how much it costs to print these things nowadays?’
‘Of course! Here you are, Sir! So sorry forthe inconvenience, Sir.’
‘Hm.’
Pushing past the doorman, Mr Ambrose marchedinto the entrance hall. Hurrying to catch up, I enquired: ‘So…whatwould you say to printing five hundred embossed wedding invitationsdecorated with gold leaf?’
‘Dream on, Mr Linton.’
‘That’s what I thought. So…how do we getpeople invited to our wedding?’
‘I was thinking of beautiful, handwrittencalligraphic invitations.’
I stared up at him, eyes narrowed. ‘Youwere?’
‘Certainly. Only the best for ourwedding.’
Warmth filled my heart. ‘That’s so…thank you.Just thank you.’
