Page 25 of New Storm Rising
What the heck was that all about? Grumbling, I leapt out of the carriage and, with a last wave to dead girls one and two, rushed after the two most irritating men in my life. Could they be any more enervating?
Well, look on the bright side, Lilly. At least your carriage-sickness will definitely be going away now.
“Wait up!” Speeding up, I hurried after the two. “Where are you going?”
“Oh, not far.” Gesturing with a single finger, Mr Ambrose led us up a hill towards a large house that had seen much better days. In fact, it probably had seen better decades. Still, the place offered a splendid view of the town, as well as a nervous little clerk in a bowler hat on the veranda. He was an almost identical copy of the one we’d met back in New York.
“Mr Ambrose! Oh thank God, you’re here! And just in time!” Dashing forward, he bowed to my husband, deeply and repeatedly. “There’s terrible news! It’s all going downhill for us! That Navarro is bad enough on his own, but now there are two powerful people arriving from Spain, who—”
Mr Ambrose held up a hand, instantly silencing the man. Then, without a word, he settled down at the only table on the veranda, steepled his fingers on the table top, and started watching.
After about three minutes, the clerk dared to clear his throat. “Um…Mr Ambrose, Sir?”
Once again, Mr Ambrose raised a hand, and uttered a word that I would never have expected Mr Rikkard Ambrose to say: “Wait.”
And about two seconds later, we all heard it. The rattle of wheels. The pounding of hooves on the ground. The stagecoach had long since moved on to the station house. No, it was a new and much fancier coach that now came racing down the dirt road. Navarro perked up, striding to the front of the podium with renewed vigour. The crowd down there started clapping and cheering. I did not, however, miss the hulking figures armed with whips and revolvers that seemed rather insistent on others clapping and cheering.
“Everyone, please welcome our esteemed guests!” Señor Navarro strode forward with confidence, clearly relieved that the real guests had now arrived. “Three cheers for the great, the honourable, the noble Señor—”
Just then, the door of the carriage flew open, revealing a not quite so great nor so noble servant in livery.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Mr Rikkard Ambrose lean back in his chair, a very noticeable lack of a smile on his face.
I grinned.
Navarro stepped forward, staring. “What the…! Who are you? Where are Señor De La Fuente and Señor De Ravera?”
Leaping out of the carriage, the pale-faced young lackey rushed up to the podium and whispered into his ear. Navarro’s face paled—then his head whipped around to stare straight at Mr Rikkard Ambrose.
My dear husband’s only response was to cock his head, ever so slightly.
Then he stood and, dusting off his hat, turned away, striding off around the house. I followed after him, able to contain myself just until we were around the corner and out of sight of our adversaries.
“So,nowwill you tell me what exactly is actually going on here?”
He stopped and turned to face me, staring at me for a moment. A moment that seemed to stretch on forever. For some strange reason, his eyes seemed not only to be focused on my face, but also on my abdomen.
He nodded. “Very well. Follow me.”
Surprises from Your Husband
“There is an unalterable truth about men of wealth and power,” Mr Ambrose declared, as he strode ahead of me, towards a small building in the distance. “They do not like to lose it.”
“You don’t say?” I enquired, the corners of my mouth twitching. “I would never have guessed.”
“Remove that smirk from your face, Mr Linton. I wasnottalking about myself.”
Dang! Did he have eyes in the back of his head?
“Then whowereyou talking about?” I asked, deciding to grab the opportunity to change the subject.
“Spain.” Pushing open the door to the little shed, he gestured me over to a crooked table that was the only piece of furniture in the dingy interior. “Or Spain’s nobles, to be precise. Come here.”
Curious, I stepped forward. There was a map spread out over the table, showing both North and South America. It didn’t take me long to notice that the southern half was covered with notes, arrows and marks that looked very much like crossed swords.
Battles.
“During the last few decades,” the cool voice of Mr Ambrose filled the room, “Spain’s colonies in the new world have rapidly fallen, one after another. Whether it be due to economic crisis, incompetent leadership, or any number of different factors, the Spanish dominion has been quickly vanishing into thin air. Something that…certain influential elements among the Spanish nobility do not approve of. A few years ago, they were like gods—able to command half the world with a flick of a finger. Now, all they have left are some run-down islands in which rebellion is rumbling. They aim to change that situation.”
