10. The Perfect Husband

"What?" The word was a hiss that escaped from between my teeth. "What did you just say? That is—!"

"—a marvellous idea!" Lady Samantha exclaimed, clapping her hands, her face lit up by a wide, beaming smile. "Mr Linton is such a sweet, charming young man! And I do seem to remember that Adaira always got along with him swimmingly!"

I opened my mouth once more. "Wait just a mi—"

"Oh yes!" Adaira interrupted, a shit-eating grin instantly replacing the gloomy expression from earlier. "Mr Linton and I are very close! I...I even must admit..."

She blushed!

Why the heck is she blushing? Why—

Then she winked at me. She was faking it! That bloody cheeky chick was faking it!

I was about to give the little vixen a good talking to—when her next words choked me.

"...in fact I must admit that I've always had certain...feelings for Mr Linton. I don't know how to describe it, it's just something I can sense, you know? Whenever I am around him, I can't help but feel we're alike, deep down inside."

"Ah..." Lady Samantha sighed. "How romantic."

Not if it's because we've both got the same equipment downstairs, it's not!

"Linton?" The cold voice of the marquess cut right through his wife's exuberance. "Who on earth is Mr Victor Linton?"

"Don't you remember, Darling?" enquired Lady Samantha with an expression on her face that said You'd better remember, or else you'll be sleeping on the sofa in the foreseeable future! "We've all met Mr Linton before. He came to Battlewood with his sister."

"Sister? What sister?"

"That," Mr Rikkard Ambrose joined in, his voice somehow easily managing to beat his father's in regard to iciness, "would be my wife."

"What?!" The older man's sharp eyes snapped to me. "That nobody? You already disappointed my expectations by tying yourself to such a lowborn individual, and now you want to throw your sister at another wastrel?"

My skin almost frosted over from the flare of icy fury that burst from my husband. He was just about to open his mouth and lay into his father—when my foot smashed down onto his toes.

"You know, I feel your esteemed father is right," I agreed with a cheerful smile while grinding down my foot a little bit harder. "My family is horribly lowborn and uncouth and totally unsuitable to be connected to a highborn lady like Adaira. I couldn't possibly presume—"

"Nonsense, dear!" Lady Samantha was beside me in a blink, pulling me into her arms to try and comfort me. "Your brother is a delightful young man! I'm sure he and Adaira would be very happy together."

Needless to say, her attempts at comforting did not work very well.

"I'm sure as well." Adaira nodded earnestly, the flame of true love shining in her eyes. "I've decided. In this life, there can be no one for me but dear, dear Mr Linton."

That sneaky little...! She should count her lucky stars her mother was hugging me right now, or else she would already have my fingers wrapped around her throat.

Calm, Lilly, calm! I told myself. After all, there's no way that bloody bastard of a father is ever going to consider an unknown, poor and untitled fellow as his son-in-la—

"Preposterous! Do you think I would actually consider accepting such an unknown, poor and untitled fellow as my son-in-law?"

A big, beaming smile spread over my face. Wasn't it amazing to always have people to rely on? Arrogant, self-important men were so amazing! Now all I needed to do was to wait for him to throw us out and—

"Now, now, dear," the soft, sweet voice of Lady Samantha interrupted. Her voice was almost soft and sweet enough to make you ignore the bone-breaking grip she had on his wrist. "Let's not be hasty, shall we? After all, we would not want to rush anything when it comes to the happiness of our little girl. That would make. Me. Very. Sad."

Crap, crap, crap! Damn those loving, overprotective mothers and their good intentions!

Wait a minute...was I cursing myself?

Irrelevant! I had to stop this, and I had to stop it now!

Don't panic, Lilly! Don't panic! I mean, there's no way that snobbish old nob would just give in like that, just because his wife told him t—

"Hmm...all right."

What?!

"I suppose if you insist...I can at least give this young man a chance."

No! Don't be whipped, you wuss! Be macho! Be the man of the house!

"Why, thank you, Darling!" Lady Samantha told her husband while, in an inconspicuous corner, Adaira was trying not to laugh her arse off.

Traitor!

"Well then." The marquess fixed me with a sharp gaze. "Why don't we let the lady here tell us a little bit more about her brother?"

"That is an excellent idea!" Abruptly, Adaira stopped laughing and, sidling up to me, batted her eyelashes at me. "Come on, Lilly! Why don't you share something about the man of my dreams?"

Double traitor!

She wouldn't get away with this. I would find a punishment that would make Beelzebub himself shiver in fear—just as soon as I had figured out what kind of nonsense to spout!

"My brother, um...he, err..." Desperately, my eyes searched the room for something to say, for anything reasonable I could make up on the fly—only to land on Mr Rikkard Ambrose. The one responsible for all of this. Suddenly, I smiled. "My brother is my dear husband's secretary. He's always being kept so busy at work that I hardly see him these days. If you want to know more about him, it would be better to ask dear Dick. I'm sure he'd be delighted to answer any questions you have."

Then I turned to dear Dick and gave him a loving look that said And woe betide you if you aren't!

Ha! Let's watch him get out of that one!

"Mr Victor Linton," Mr Ambrose began without a second's hesitation, "has been an exemplary employee of mine for several years. As such, I do indeed know him quite well. He is the offspring of a landed gentleman of good standing and well-established pedigree. Orphaned at a young age, he went on to be adopted by an older gentleman, who now sees him as his favourite family member and will most likely leave him his considerable wealth. Having accompanied me on most of my journeys, Mr Linton has grown into a capable young man who knows how to handle himself. He is an expert rider, a master of firearms, and a staunch defender of the fairer sex. Indeed, I might go so far as to say that, whenever he fights, it is to protect a lady."

My mouth dropped open.

That sneaky, dastardly son of a...!

All right, I guess he was technically correct. But only because I myself was a lady, dammit!

"Oh my!" Clutching her hands together, Lady Samantha stared into the distance with shiny eyes. "I knew Mr Linton was a nice, upstanding young gentleman, but I had no idea he was this amazing! Doesn't he sound amazing, Adaira?"

"Indeed he does!" Adaira agreed demurely—all the while never taking her sparkling eyes off me. "I've known the person in question for many years, yet only now do I realise what a true man he is!"

That bloody little...!

No.

Standard British swear words were no longer sufficient for the situation.

Qué Cabrón! Brûle en l'enfer! Pollas en vinagre!

"But that is not all!" Mr Ambrose continued before I had the chance to voice any of those wonderfully suitable words aloud. "Mr Linton is also a man who cares deeply for family. Why, during my wife's pregnancy, he did not stray from her side for an instant. You cannot imagine how much that helped her in that difficult time. I might even go so far as to say that, without Mr Victor Linton, my child would not be alive today!"

This time, Adaira did burst into laughter—although she managed to disguise it as a cough just in time. As for me, I felt my hands twitch with the desire to wrap around their throats. The only reason I wasn't moving yet is that I couldn't decide who to go for first.

Bastardo! Cabrona!

I tried to burn holes into the both of them with my eyes alone. Especially Mr Ambrose. Most especially Mr Ambrose. How could anyone come up with so many devious ways to twist the truth to his advantage without ever being a lawyer or politician?

And worse yet—the entire time, he was actually praising me!

"In addition, Mr Linton also has an admirable—"

All right, enough was enough! Adaira was a nice girl, but I was already married, thank you very much! I had to stop him before this went too far. I was not going to start a harem! At least not before I was thirty. And if I wanted to put a stop to this, there was only one way.

"—and commendable moral character. He has—"

"—visited lots of brothels!" I ruthlessly cut in.

For a long moment, silence reigned over the room.

Lady Samantha slowly turned her head towards me.

"W-what?"

"Oh, you didn't know?" I sent her a faux-surprised look. "Victor often frequents various brothels. I believe it's my dear husband who first introduced him to the habit."

Lady Samantha's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "W-what?"

"Oh yes. Whenever he's in London, Victor can't help but visit his favourite prostitute. Or rather, he used to..."

Lady Samantha breathed a sigh of relief. "H-he stopped? He mended his ways?"

"Huh? Oh no." I beamed. "He had his bollocks crushed by a South-American revolutionary."

Once more, complete and utter silence descended over the room.

"Um..." Lady Samantha cleared her throat. "I...um...am suddenly having second thoughts about this."

Yes! Yes!

"Don't worry, mother," my dear husband, who was definitely going to change Berty's diapers for the next ten months, rejoined the conversation. His hand gripped my wrist hard enough for the bone to creak under the pressure. "My lady wife was only joking. Weren't you, darling?"

I whirled to face him, wanting to hiss at him, to vent—until I caught sight of Adaira's face. Adaira's face that didn't show any hint of a grin anymore. Adaira's helpless, pleading face.

Ugh.

I wasn't going to...was I?

I was.

Harem it is. Huzzah!

"Y-yes, of course," I squeezed out. "Joking. Haha."

"Uh...haha," Lady Samantha joined in hesitantly. "I must say, Lilly dear, since last we met, your sense of humour has become a bit...different."

"Err, well..." I scratched the back of my neck, desperately searching for any excuse—before suddenly finding the perfect one. When in doubt, blame hubby! "I'm afraid it's the pregnancy still messing with me. My mood has been completely out of control lately, and I'm afraid my husband has been far too busy to take care of me."

"Oh really?" Lady Samantha narrowed her eyes at her son, and I felt I had gained at least a small victory.

Not that this meant I wasn't still going to get back at him for the stunt he had just pulled.

Mr Ambrose, who seemed to sense the slight change in atmosphere, took a step away from me. Not really surprising, considering what he said next.

"Ehem. Well, it is regrettable that I did not have as much time for my wife as I might have wished, but I have been busy trying to think of the ideal marriage candidate for Adaira. And since we are back on the subject...Mrs Ambrose, why don't you share with everyone what you really think of your brother?"

Did I just hear right? Did he really want me to...?

He did.

Well, Fiddlesticks. Time to toot my own horn.

"He...is right, of course." My voice sounded rather strained, and I only just managed to paste a smile onto my face. "Victor...I haven't seen him much recently—" Because it's really difficult to pretend to be a man while pregnant! "—but what I can say is that we were very close before." Like, really, really close, as in, walking around in the same body. "He has always been very kind to me—" The kindest. Nobody is as nice to myself as I. "—and I can't think of any better man in this world." Because, frankly speaking, women would do a much better job at being men then those stupid masculine fellows. I bet we'd even make better husbands.

Only then did I realise what I had just thought. My gaze flicked to the happily grinning Adaira, and I paled.

Gah! I did not mean it like that! I promise, I did not mean it like that!

"Hm. Very well." The voice of the marquess abruptly tore me from my thoughts. Quickly, I glanced up to see the older man thoughtfully tapping his chin. Oh no! He wasn't really going to... "If that's how it is, I shall send for this Mister Linton." In an all-too-familiar manner, his eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "I wish to see for myself what kind of man he is."

You do? Well, good luck with that!

"Really?" Adaira clapped her hands together, beaming. "You'll really do it?"

"Naturally. I want only the best for my family."

My eyes narrowed. Why was it that, when he said that, I simultaneously believed him and felt a sense of foreboding?

"But," he continued, his voice sharp as a knife, "if he does not meet my expectations, don't think I will favour him. I am already being generous merely considering an untitled nobody as an alternative to a Vicomte of the French Empire. He had better live up to your praise, or I shall have him thrown out immediately, and the wedding date pulled forward."

"Rest assured, father." Mr Ambrose met his father's gaze head-on, tiny flakes of frost seeming to manifest in the air between them. "Mr Linton is unlike any other man you have met before. He will definitely leave an impression."

Yes, I bet! Particularly when he shows up in a dress!

I had half a mind to do it. Why should I play a part in this hare-brained scheme? But then I thought of Adaira's face, of that desperation in her eyes—and my resolution crumbled.

Damn you, Mr Ambrose! Damn you and your manipulative ways!

Hidden behind the folds of my gown, I cracked my knuckles.

Just you wait, Dicky Darling! Just you wait till I get my hands on you!

Mr Ambrose, smart businessman that he was, glanced my way—then, before I could grab hold, took a quick step towards the door. "Well, since this matter is settled, father, I shall go contact Mr Linton to call him here immediately. I may be gone for a while, so if it takes some days for me to return..."

Oh no, you don't, Mister!

Moving with astounding alacrity for a woman who had given birth only a few days ago, I appeared beside Mr Rikkard Ambrose and grabbed his arm.

"I'll accompany you, darling!"

"Oh, you really don't have to—"

"I insist." Smiling, I tightened my grip as I pulled him towards the door. "If you are going to send a message to my brother, I should really add a word or two. I haven't spoken to him in such a long time. Besides..." Eyes flashing dangerously, I tightened my grip again. "I would like to discuss something with you in private. Now."

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My dear Lords and Ladies,

I just nearly posted this chapter with the entire chapter text in the text box reserved for the chapter title. That would have been the longest title ever ;-)

By the way, here are the translations of the various foreign language bits in this chapter:

Qué Cabrón!—Spanish for "What a bastard!", although, literally, it might better be translated as "big, masculine goat".

Brûle en l'enfer!—A classic that has probably been used since the Middle Ages. French for "Burn in hell!"

Pollas en vinagre!—This is a good one. It means, quite literally, "dicks in vinegar". Although I don't know whether it is meant as an exclamation or a threat.

Yours Truly

Sir Rob