Storm of Bells

17. The Home of Mr Rikkard Ambrose

It was beautiful. Bloody beautiful! No, beautiful wasn't a strong enough word. It was amazing. Awe-inspiring. Probably larger than Battlewood and Buckingham Palace put together, and certainly more magnificent. Battlewood was a manor house. This...this was a palace among palaces. A bloody marvel! And I had thought...I had...

And the son of a bachelor had let me think that!

Eyes on fire, I turned to Mr Rikkard Ambrose. 'Why didn't you tell me that it was like this?'

'Like what?' Cocking his head, he gave me a calm look. 'Different from a crumbling ruin in which no self-respecting gentleman would marry the woman he plans to spend the rest of his life with?'

'Well...um...err...'

Damn him! He had a point.

Fuming, I gestured out of the window. 'You might at least have warned me that you have a bloody fountain in your front yard! And a golden sundial! And a statue garden! A bloody statue garden, for heaven's sake!'

'My apologies, Miss Linton. Next time, I shall take into account your aversion to sculptural decorations.'

'I...I don't...I mean...Arg! You are so...!'

Not knowing what to say, I exchanged a look with Adaira. But she just sat there, staring open-mouthed at the palatial mansion in front of us, obviously feeling the same urge as me to grab the nearest calendar and check whether it was April 1. Even Lady Samantha looked as if she couldn't quite believe her eyes, although she really, really wanted to.

As we rolled up the driveway, the front doors opened and the butler, who, to my intense relief, was not a semi-transparent ghost, stepped out into the sunlight. A butler! Mr Rikkard Ambrose employed an actual butler? Someone pinch me!

Slowly, the coaches rolled up the driveway and came to a stop. It took me a few moments to realize that Karim had jumped down from the box and was holding the door open for me. Overlooking Karim? That feat alone should tell you something about my level of shock.

'Sahiba?'

He extended his hand, and I was so focused on staring at the palatial manor that I forgot every single feminist instinct I'd ever had and took it, allowing him to help me out of the coach. At least I wasn't the only one. Behind me, Flora, Ella, Eve and even Patsy were being led down the coach steps, awe-struck expressions on their faces. Even Uncle Bufford's beard twitched in a slightly impressed manner when he stepped out into the open. I couldn't blame him. The massive manor house was four stories tall, its façade decorated with statues painted in gold and silver. Tall, elegant windows allowed a glimpse into rooms so opulent they might have belonged in the Palace of Versailles, if Louis XIV had been twice as rich as the poor bugger actually was.

But the surprises of the day weren't yet over. Oh no.

From behind the house suddenly came a fast, rhythmic thudding noise followed by panting and...

Heck! Was that a bark?

My question was answered a moment later when two ginormous dogs rushed around the corner. Long and sleek with steel-grey coats, they looked just about as deadly as a pair of freshly sharpened swords. Growling and panting, they rushed towards our little group. I took a step back and raised my parasol.

'Err...nice doggies. Good doggies.'

They didn't stop or even slow down. Hunger flickered in their eyes as they rushed towards us.

'Barb! Wire! Heel!'

The two monstrous beasts stopped as if someone had frozen them in place. And, really, that was what had happened. Mr Rikkard Ambrose's command chilled the courtyard like an arctic breeze. A moment later, they turned their heads in his direction and dashed forward again, only to come to an abrupt halt at Mr Ambrose's feet. Reaching out with one leisurely hand to scratch them behind the ears, Mr Ambrose regarded the canines with something dangerously close to affection. 'Adequate boy.'