Silence Breaking

21. Patriotism à la Ambrose

I marched down the corridor like a train at full steam. All my energy, all my focus, all my considerable wrath was concentrated on the door at the end of that corridor – or, more precisely, on the man behind it.

'Miss?' a servant dared to step in my way. Bad idea. 'Mr Ambrose does not wish to be disturbed at the mo–'

He met my gaze and broke off instantly, swallowing.

I raised an eyebrow. 'You were saying?'

'I, um...well, Miss...'

'Out of my way!'

'Yes, Miss! Right away, Miss!'

He jumped aside just in time to not get flattened to the floor. I marched past and slammed my foot against the door, kicking it open.

Mr Ambrose was sitting behind his desk, studying an open file in front of him with impeccable concentration. He didn't even bother to look up when I stormed into the room, the son of a bachelor! Seething with righteous rage, I marched up to his desk and, gritting my teeth, bit out: 'Tell me you didn't do it!'

'I didn't do it,' he said, then turned over a page in the file and proceeded to ignore me.

'Liar! It was you! I know it was!'

'Indeed?'

'Who else could it have been? Oh, you...you're going to pay for this! You...you...!'

Slowly, very slowly, Mr Ambrose raised his eyes from the document resting on the desk in front of him and met my gaze.

'What are we talking of, precisely?'

That bloody son of a...!

'Captain Carter, of course!'

'Indeed, Mr Linton?'

'Oh yes, indeed, Sir!'

'And what has happened to the good captain that warrants your barging into my office at this hour of the night?'

'Don't you play the innocent! You know exactly what happened! You were the one who sicced that bearded brute on him!'

'Bearded brute?'

Just then, the door behind me creaked open, and I saw the reflection of Karim appearing in the dark windows behind Mr Ambrose. What little was visible of his face behind that beard of his was a grimace of discomfort that would have made me laugh at any other time. Never in my life had I seen the huge Mohammedan looking so much like a naughty schoolboy who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But right now wasn't any other time. Right now was right now. And right now, I just wanted to chop his bloody head off!

'Karim.' Just one word. That was all. Mr Ambrose gave his bodyguard a look, and the huge man grimaced, ducking his head.

'I am sorry, Sahib.'

'I'm so glad to hear that, Karim.' Half-turning, I gifted him with a smile you could have cut iron with. 'What are you sorry about, exactly? Walloping Captain Carter over the head and trying to stuff him into a sack, or getting caught in the act?'

Wisely, the big man did not answer.

I whirled back to Mr Ambrose, my eyes flashing. 'It was you! It really was you who ordered this!'

Silence.

'Why, damn you? Bloody hell, why?'

More silence. Clenching my fists, I strode forward until I stood right in front of his desk. Slamming my fists down on the hardwood, I leaned forward until our faces were only inches apart.