Page 2 of Storm over the Caribbean (Storm and Silence Saga #8)

That was putting it mildly. The only one I could think of whose hand might be shorter was my second cousin’s pet pygmy marmoset. 2 Leave it to Mr Ambrose to invent an entirely new kind of shorthand because the original was too long for his taste.

I looked down at the shorthand—then glanced sideways at the massive book resting next to it. The title on its cover proclaimed: Manual to R.A. Internal Business Shorthand. Confidential.

The smile that had previously been on my face faltered ever so slightly.

Wasn’t it a joy to be back at work? Proving that I could still do the same work as any man even while pregnant really was an amazing feeling.

Lilly, you should really get better at lying to yourself.

***

“Thrice-blasted niggardly son of a bachelor!”

Exhausted, I sagged back into my chair.

Five hours! Five bloody hours! That’s how long it had taken.

And by “it”, I didn’t mean going through the documents.

Oh no. Five hours was how long I’d needed to work my way through the infuriating excuse for a manual that could double as an ancient pharaoh’s pyramid building block.

Then another three hours to dig myself through the pile of piss-poor excuses for shorthand documents.

By the time I was finished I had cursed Mr Rikkard Ambrose roughly forty-seven times.

“Bloody hell!”

Dragging in a deep breath of air, I placed the last of the papers on the table and started massaging my neck. There were muscles aching back there that I never knew I had. When I stretched, my bones made ominous popping sounds.

Just then, brisk footsteps approached. The connecting door opened, and Mr Rikkard Deserves-a-Kick-In-The-Bollocks Ambrose stuck his head into the room.

“Evening, Mrs Ambrose. A day of hard work is truly invigorating, isn’t it?”

I moved my massaging hands to my back and gave my dear husband a sweet smile. “Do you know that, according to Scotland Yard reports, murders of married men are most often committed by their wives?”

“You don’t say.” He just cocked his head and extended his arm to me. “Fascinating. Now, shall we go home and enjoy our conjugal bliss?”

My smile widened. “Oh, by all means, let’s go home! I’ve already got just the right transportation method in mind—”

“In a carriage . We’re going home in a carriage . Drawn by horses .”

“You really know how to spoil my fun, don’t you?”

No answer.

“Don’t you know you’ll hurt Ambrose Junior’s feelings?”

Silence.

Bloody hell! The stubborn man would really deprive me of my marvellous mount, wouldn’t he? Horses were so boring. They didn’t even have humps!

Then again, he had said “horses”—not “horse”, as in the single miserable nag that Mr Ambrose usually put before his sorry excuse for a carriage. Did that mean he had actually gone out and bought a real carriage ?

Well, well now. A way to get Mr Rikkard Ambrose to buy stuff: threaten him with camels. This had possibilities. Making a mental note to add it to my Handbook for Villainous Newlyweds, I started whistling again and moved to the door.

Hm…that makes two hundred fifty pages already. I wonder when I should get my handbook published…

“Mrs Ambrose?” A voice suddenly came from behind me. “What are you up to?”

“Me?” Turning around, I batted my eyelashes up at my hubby, eyes filled only with innocence. “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

“Hm.” Eyes narrowed infinitesimally, Mr Ambrose extended his arm.

I took it like the good little wife I was, and together we strode out the door and into the corridor.

Outside, Mr Stone sat at his desk with a pen in his hand and a bruise on his forehead.

The moment he spotted Mr Rikkard Ambrose, arm in arm with an undeniably female, very much pregnant figure, his eyes went wide.

“Oh my God it wasn’t a nightmare!”

Mr Rikkard Ambrose slowly turned his head and sent his iciest stare at the receptionist. “ What? ”

“Um…err…I meant I’m going to get back to work now, Mr Ambrose, Sir. I’m working free overtime today, haha! I love working! I love working for free so much!”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

And he strode off, towing me down the corridor. Just before we stepped into the elevator, I sent Mr Stone a wave. Somehow losing his balance while seated, he teetered precariously, and a moment later—

Thump!

“Agh!”

Oh my.

I smiled to myself. If this was what working life as a married woman was going to be like, it would end up being rather amusing.

Ding!

A short journey later, the elevator doors opened at the bottom of the shaft, and the two of us stepped out into the entry hall. The moment we did, the gossiping crowd of clerks that was scattered throughout the hall fell suddenly silent and did their best to look very busy.

“So…” Mr Ambrose’s icy gaze swept through the hall. “This is how things are, are they?”

The clerks did their best to sink into the floor. Unfortunately, it was made of very solid stone.

“I see. Well, if you have so much time to gossip, I’m sure you’ll also have enough time to stay to work a few extra hours for no additional compensation, won’t you?”

“Yes, Mr Ambrose, Sir!” a chorus of hurried murmurs echoed through the hall. “Of course, Mr Ambrose, Sir!”

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

“Nothing, Sir!”

The hall burst into a beehive of activity. As for me—I scrutinized my dear husband’s profile. “Did you just use me as a way to get your employees to work free overtime?”

“Only a despicable, greedy person would do such a thing, Mrs Ambrose.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “So that means yes?”

Reaching out, he gently stroked a thumb across my cheek. The tiny motion sent a delicious shiver down my spine. His dark, sea-coloured eyes bored straight into my soul. “You know…I am reliably informed that knowing your spouse well is an excellent sign for a stable, lasting marriage.”

“I-is that so?”

Damn you, my bloody useless, uncooperative tongue! And damn those darn deep, dark, hypnotic eyes of his!

“Now, enough time wasted.” He stepped forward, and I noticed that, somehow, we were across the hall already.

Dammit, when did we move so far?

Pushing open the front door, he stepped outside and snapped his fingers. “Coach!”

A moment later, a simple but elegant black carriage came to a halt in front of us.

And, wonder of wonders, it did indeed have two horses harnessed in front.

The fact that one of them happened to be the scruffy little grey nag that was previously pulling Mr Ambrose’s little chaise didn’t detract from the amazing miracle in the least.

“ Sahib .” Jumping down from the box, Karim inclined his head and held open the carriage door.

“Karim.” With a curt nod back at the bodyguard, Mr Ambrose strode past him and helped me into the coach. “Take us home.”

“Home?” I blinked, suppressing a yawn. I only just realized this was the second time he’d said that. Darn, I really had to be getting tired if I missed obvious stuff like that. “Aren’t we going back to the hotel?”

The day we arrived back from America, we had checked into a hotel near the docks, since Empire House wasn’t exactly equipped with anything remotely resembling lodgings. I had expected we’d be going back there.

Giving me a cool look, he cocked his head at me. “Did you really expect me to pay for a hotel room one day longer than absolutely necessary?” Then, without breaking eye contact, he placed his hand on my bulging stomach, ever so gently.

Translation: You will have a real home. You and our child.

I swallowed. “True. That would be an egregious waste of money.”

“Correct. Then we shall proceed.” Reaching up, he slammed his cane against the roof of the carriage. “Karim, drive!”

A whip cracked and, with the clattering of wheels on cobblestones, we set off. A contented smile spread across my face, I snuggled into the surprisingly comfortable upholstery and closed my eyes. We would be going home. Home, where—

I froze.

Something had occurred to me.

Mr Ambrose had bought a home . Mr Rikkard Purse-Strings-Are-Not-Meant-to-Open Ambrose.

Cautiously, I opened one eye.

“Say…the ‘home’ we’re going to…it isn’t by any chance a ruin in the East End, right?”

“No.”

“An old warehouse by the docks?”

“No.”

“And…you didn’t do anything like with your manor, which just so happened to be used as a furniture shop on the side?”

“No, of course not.” He turned towards me and gazed deeply and earnestly into my eyes. “Nothing of the kind. I swear, the place we are going to is primarily used as a domicile.”

Mollified, I closed my eyes once more and sank back into the upholstery. After all, surely my beloved husband wouldn’t try to trick me.

Right?