The Final Storm

02. From Bad to Worse

From one moment to the next, the temperature on the street plummeted. And, considering it was a chilly late autumn morning, that was saying something. Suddenly, it felt like an arctic storm was about to sweep down on London. A storm centred on Mr Rikkard Ambrose.

"Mrs Ambrose..."

"Yes?"

"Did you just say 'India'?"

"Yes."

"The man my sister is heading for was sent to India."

"Yes."

"As in the country where I have just lit the spark for a bloody rebellion."

"Yes, Sir."

Without another word, my husband whirled around and stalked off down the street at a pace faster than most carriages.

"Oy!" Dashing forward, I tried to catch up to him—but he was too fast, and there was no sign of him stopping. "Where are you going?"

"To the harbour," was his curt reply. "We're heading to India. Now."

"But we can't!"

"Watch me."

"No, I mean we don't know where to go, remember? We know the captain was shipped to Bombay, but that's just the harbour where he arrived! We have no idea where he was stationed after that. What if Adaira knows where he is now and is heading straight there? We'll never catch up to her."

He slowed down. Marginally. That was a good sign.

"India is a big place," I continued. "Do you just want to head to Bombay and then comb the subcontinent for your sister? If so, you'll still be searching for Adaira in ten years. Never mind little details like the looming war and Dalgliesh's henchmen scattered all over the country."

This time, he stopped. When I came to a halt beside him, he reached out and pulled me into a fierce embrace. My ears flushed.

What's the matter with you, Lilly? You've done far more scandalous things than being hugged by your husband in public!

True. Nonetheless, the gesture felt strangely intimate. Especially when he closed his eyes and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine.

"Sometimes you make far too much sense, you know that?"

One corner of my mouth curled up. "I'm a good secretary, Mr Ambrose, Sir."

For a moment, he was silent. Then...

"And an even better wife. Thank you."

A featherlight kiss brushed against my forehead.

"So," I murmured after a moment of enjoying his closeness, "what now?"

Instantly, he straightened. I met his eyes and saw that once more, the loving husband that only I knew had receded and Mr Rikkard Ambrose, ruthless billionaire businessman, was back in the driving seat.

"There is only one thing we can do: find out what route Adaira took and follow."

"But we have no idea how Adaira plans to reach India."

"True." He nodded grimly. "Even disregarding that none of our investigations have borne any fruit, what fool of a captain would let an unmarried young noblewoman aboard his ship without a chaperone?"

"Let alone taking her halfway across the world into what is about to be an active warzone," I agreed. "Yet she obviously had some plan to leave England in mind when departing from Battlewood. So, the question now is...how does she plan to do it?"