Page 7 of Storm over the Caribbean (Storm and Silence Saga #8)

For one long, interminable second, Mr Rikkard Ambrose stared at the banner. As for me?

Well, I gave it a second look. No reason not to admire perfection, right?

Rikkard Ambrose Foundation for Women’s Suffrage and Equal Rights—stand up and live your dream!

I nodded, satisfied. Perfection indeed.

“Mrs Ambrose?”

“Yes, Dicky Darling?”

“What. Is. This?”

“Ah.” I nodded to myself. “I get why you’re surprised.

Originally, I had intended to call it the Lillian Ambrose Women’s Foundation for Suffrage and Equal Rights , but then I thought—why not name it after my beloved husband instead?

” Beaming up at him, I snuggled against his side.

“What better present could there be to celebrate our return from our honeymoon?”

“Mrs Ambrose?”

“Yes, Dicky Darling?”

“I will get you for this.”

“True.” Smirking, I patted my pregnant belly. “But not for the next few months, correct?”

A pause.

Quite a long one.

“… Correct.”

My smirk grew just a tiny bit wider. “So, I have plenty of time to prepare my defences. Oh, and…?”

“Yes?” The word was a growl, squeezed out between clenched teeth.

I sent a sweet, innocent look up at him, batting my eyelashes. “It worked, right? I managed to surprise you?”

Another pause.

“I will get you for this. I will get you for this and punish you severely .”

I gave his arm a hug. “I look forward to it.”

Then I strode to the stage and stepped behind the lectern that had been erected in the very centre. Ringing a small bell resting on the wood before me, I caught everyone’s attention.

“Attention, please, everybody.” With a welcoming smile on my face, I skimmed the assembled people with my gaze, ignoring the figure of Rikkard Ambrose desperately trying to shove his way through the crowd towards me.

“Thank you for coming. I would like to welcome you all to the first event organized by the Rikkard Ambrose Foundation for Women’s Suffrage and Equal Rights .

We have all gathered here for one common cause, one just goal that is very close to my husband’s heart, and that unites us in our fight for a better world of justice and equality.

Now, I’m sure you’re all expecting me to give a long-winded speech, but I am a woman of few words, and not particularly good at speeches. So…”

Stepping back from the podium, I beamed. By now, Mr Ambrose had nearly reached the stage.

“…I’ll leave that task to someone much more qualified. Please, Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen, give me your applause to welcome Rikkard Ambrose!”

Mr Ambrose stopped in his tracks. He blinked.

Oh, and did I mention I happened to be pointing at him?

Everyone’s eyes focused on him.

“Ambrose!” a young woman called out. A young woman who just happened to have a close resemblance to Patsy.

“Ambrose!” a few other ladies shouted.

“Am-brose! Am-brose! Am-brose!” The chorus of cheers became louder and louder. My smile widened. It was so nice to see my husband was appreciated!

Mr Ambrose’s icy eyes found me. His lips parted ever so slightly, mouthing, “You will pay for this.”

In answer, I cocked an eyebrow, and mouthed back: “You mean with the salary that I get from you?”

A muscle in his cheek twitched.

“Am-brose! Am-brose! Am-brose!” The crowd continued their enthusiastic cheering. The fact that said crowd was led by Patsy, who was smiling with unholy glee, as well as Eve and Flora, who could hardly keep themselves from laughing, was surely purely coincidental.

“Cheer a little louder, ladies!” Patsy called out. “Seems like our benefactor is a little shy.”

“Am-brose! Am-brose!”

That muscle in Mr Ambrose’s cheek twitched again. Pretending not to notice in the least, I stepped away from the podium, gesturing for him to take my place. Slowly, very slowly, he started moving forward once again. Finally, he reached the lectern. The crowd’s cheers grew even louder.

That is, until he looked at them.

With one icy glance, he silenced them. An icy glance that even I could feel, never mind that I was standing directly behind him.

Oops.

Um…maybe I overdid it just a little bit?

Nah. After all, he surely knew I was only doing this because I loved him, right?

Well, that, and I really wanted to hear his speech in support of women’s equality. Some things were just too good to miss.

Patsy apparently agreed. Sidling up to me, she held out a snack platter. “Solid chocolate?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Helping myself, I jumped down from the stage, pulled up a chair and settled in for the show. This was going to be good.

Up on the stage, Mr Rikkard Ambrose was still doing his best to freeze the crowd solid with his gaze. When he finally concluded his problem was not going to vanish by dying of hypothermia, he drew in a sharp, short breath, clenched his teeth, and began.

“I am here today to…” For a long moment, he wrestled with himself, clearly unwilling to say the next, outrageous, words. “…speak to you.”

Silence.

“To speak to you about a subject that, in recent years, I could not help but think about again and again.” His eyes bored into me like professional mining equipment. “In fact, I couldn’t help but face this issue repeatedly . Again. And. Again.”

I beamed. Wasn’t I spiffing?

“The issue I speak of, and which I came to espouse here today is…” A pause. Another pause. His little finger twitched. “…women’s rights.”

I had to admit it was impressive how he managed to almost choke on two little words.

“Since meeting and getting to know my wife, my views of the fairer sex have changed dramatically,” Mr Ambrose continued, his icy voice carrying effortlessly across the silent crowd.

“Women play an integral part in our lives. We live with them, we trust them…” Once again, his eyes bored into me.

“Never do we realize how horrific it would be if, one day, that trust were to be betrayed.”

Folding my hands, I started to whistle innocently.

“Now, some might say that is unlikely, but I know what women have to go through on a daily basis. Day in, day out, they have to work, and work, and work, and never receive a word of thanks or recognition for it. Why,” he finished, staring at me in a way that made me question my life choices, “some even have to work while they are pregnant !”

Boos and jeers rose from the crowd at the outrage.

“I say, enough! I say, it is time we start treating women differently!” By now, his gaze was intense enough to probably cause frost to appear on my nose. “It is time we treat them exactly. How. They. Deserve.”

The boos were swiftly replaced by cheers and clapping. Women stood, chanting “Wo-men’s-rights! Wo-men’s-rights!”.

I wondered…would they still be cheering if they realized what he was actually talking about?

I glanced at his perfect, chiselled profile.

Oh, who am I kidding! Of course they would.

“The laws regarding women in this society must be changed!” Mr Ambrose declared, pounding the lectern with a rock-hard fist. He really seemed to have found his flow as an orator. “And I know exactly what changes I would like to implement.”

Matrimonial bondage? Spousal servitude?

“We must stand firm!” Rikkard Ambrose declared, his hand reaching out, and the crowd responded, clapping and waving their fists in support. “We must unite to fight for what is right, and ensure that women across the country receive what is due to them!”

Again, cheers exploded from everywhere. I, for my part, simply stared at him in pure, unadulterated awe.

Only Mr Rikkard Ambrose could give a speech about women’s rights while wordlessly suggesting they shouldn’t have any.

I didn’t quite know whether to applaud or pelt him with bits of solid chocolate.

I did neither. Instead, I raised a hand and asked, “Excuse me, Mr Ambrose, could you elaborate a bit on that? What exactly is it that’s due to women? What do they deserve?”

I gave him my sweetest obedient-little-wife smile. From all around, dozens of expectant gazes zeroed in on Mr Rikkard Ambrose.

Mr Ambrose’s little finger twitched.

“Why, naturally, it is…” He swallowed, somehow looking as if he’d swallowed vinegar, while not moving a single facial muscle.

“…equality.” A moment of silence. “Freedom.” Another moment of silence.

If that’s what you can call a moment filled with the noises of teeth grinding. “The right to…to work . And… vote .”

If his previous statement had been greeted with cheers, it was nothing compared to the cacophony of hoorays and shouts that exploded from the crowd now.

Somewhere at the back, a few of the women started another chant of “Am-brose! Am-brose!”.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I caught several of them eyeing me jealously.

I couldn’t quite keep the self-satisfied smirk off my face. Yep, that’s right, ladies. He’s mine!

My eyes swept back to Mr Rikkard Ambrose, whose white-knuckled fists were currently doing their best to crack the lectern in half.

Although, right now, that might not be such a good thing.

Up on the stage, Mr Ambrose shoved the pedestal aside and started stalking towards me. In a blink, he was down from the podium, rapidly crossing the distance between us.

Uh-oh…

“Um…Patsy?” Rising from my seat, I began to back away. “Perhaps I should leave for a bit and…”

“Oh no!” Smirking, the dastardly wench linked her arm with mine, practically nailing me to her side. “You’re not going anywhere! Not after your event was such a spectacular success! Besides…there’s no real need to leave.”

Raising one hand to her lips, she gave a horse whistle, attracting everyone’s attention. “Oy, ladies!” she called out. “Listen up! Mr Rikkard Ambrose has given such a marvellous speech, why don’t we show our appreciation?”

Another explosive cheer rose from the crowd. A moment later, everyone surged forward, and Mr Rikkard Ambrose found himself swarmed by the only unbeatable force in the universe: female admirers.

“Am-brose! Am-brose! Am-brose!”