A moment ago, I had been desperate to find a way to keep my sister-in-law from finding out that her intended was a murderous mastermind who had nearly drowned half her family. Now, I knew there was a way: cute babies. Cute, giggling babies. Or rather, one baby in particular.

"Awww! Aren't you just the sweetest thing?" Adaira's face scrunched up into one of those expressions I'd seen older female relatives make when they were faced with irresistible adorableness. "Let me hold you...!"

And before Karim had a chance to blink, the bundle of blankets was snatched from his arms.

"Waaah, waah!"

"What's that? You aren't happy? Oh! So you did a little poo-poo? I see you're just as naughty as your parents. Let me help you with that..."

If I hadn't already known that Berty was heaven's gift of perfection to an undeserving world, this would have clinched it. The way he wrapped her around his little finger, rescuing me in the process...it was simply amazing. Also adorable, but mostly amazing.

"So..." Leaning over towards Karim, I gave him an innocent smile. "I remember someone saying they would defend little Berty to the death. What happened? Did you encounter a deadly danger?"

Just then, another cloud of nauseating stench rose into the air.

"Yes," Karim answered without hesitation, his face wooden. "A surprise attack by a vicious enemy utilising poison gas."

"Truly? How horrific!"

"You have no idea."

"Oh..." I sniffed. "I think I do."

For a moment, silence filled the room.

"So...who'll take care of Berty's business?"

"Will Adaira Sahiba not do this?"

Cocking my head, I scrutinised my dear sister-in-law, who was currently tickling Berty's nose. "I think she's a bit too distracted for that."

"Then...who?"

The two of us eyed each other, looking for the slightest sign of weakness.

"He is your child," he pointed out.

"And you swore to do everything to protect him," I shot back. "That includes his bottom."

"I have no experience taking care of children."

"Then it's high time to get some, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't dare! This is the Sahiba's son. He should be taken care of by someone experienced."

"Ah." I nodded. "So you agree I'm the wrong one for the job then."

"Oh no, Sahiba. Motherly love can compensate for a lack of experience any day."

My eyes narrowed. "Karim...go over there and change his diapers!"

The bodyguard seemed to struggle with himself for a moment—then straightened, as if about to face a firing squad. "I must respectfully refuse, Sahiba."

"Do it!"

"I decline. I suggest you show your motherly love by taking care of the matter yourself, Sahiba."

I narrowed my eyes further, and was just about to open my mouth to retort, when...

"Lillian! Lillian, dear? Are you in there?"

Lady Samantha's sweet voice drifted through the door. Lady Samantha, as in, Mr Ambrose's mother—who used to take care of him when he was a child.

Karim and I exchanged a look.

"Karim...you were saying something about motherly love?"

"Indeed, Sahiba."

"I think we should invite Lady Samantha inside right away, don't you? It's long past time for her to meet her grandson."

"Agreed, Sahiba."

Quickly, I skipped over to the door and pulled it open, revealing a familiar, gentle figure in a pink dress.

"Oh, Lillian!" The moment the gap in the door was wide enough, she rushed inside and caught me in a fluffy, featherlight embrace. "I'm so happy! You've joined the family, and now that delightful brother of yours will marry Adaira, and...and..."

"...and I'm very happy to see you, too, Your Ladyship." I beamed at her. "Especially right now. You're just in time."

"In time?" she cocked her head.

"Yes." I gifted her with my widest, most innocent smile. "Or didn't you want to see your grandson?"

Pure bliss shone in her bright, baby-blue eyes. "Really? He's here? It's a boy? Oh, it is a boy, isn't it! Can I see him? Can I see him, please?"

"Of course. I think I'll need you to take a look at him, in fact. I..." Sheepishly, I scratched the back of my head. Acting skills for the win! "I'm rather new to this mother thing, and I think there's something I need your help with."

"Anything!"

Once again, a broad grin spread across my face, and I was hardly able to suppress my evil cackle. "That's what I was hoping you'd say."

***

It's official. Grandmothers are the best. Can you imagine anyone actually being happy about the opportunity to change dirty diapers and thanking you for the privilege afterwards?

"That's much better, isn't it?" Lady Samantha cooed, bent over the happily squirming Berty, now in his brand-new diaper. A clean, white diaper, freshly ironed and scented. "Now, let's see how far you've gotten with learning to speak, shall we? Say 'Grandma'. It's easy. Grand...ma."

I narrowed my eyes. Forget about what I said regarding grandmothers being the best. I was not going to lose this competition! Not to Mr Ambrose, and certainly not to his mother!

"Go on! Grandma. Say it, little darling. Grand...ma."

"Waah!" Berty exclaimed. "Waah waah!"

Ha! I nodded contentedly. Good boy, Berty!

His first word would be "mama". I would see to that, or die trying!

Just then, Lady Samantha seemed to give up her attempts to tempt my baby boy off the right path. Tying the last knot on the diaper, she picked him up and, humming, came towards me. The slight disappointment on her face at the failed baby talk had long been chased away by the beatific smile caused by the mere presence of her grandchild in her arms.

I couldn't help but smile as well. "He's beautiful, isn't he?"

Her Ladyship nodded fervently. "Yes. Yes, he is."

I preened. "I'm glad you think so."

"So...what's his name?"

"Berty."

"Berty..." Her smile widened to half-moon proportions. "A beautiful name for a beautiful boy."

I heard a sort of choking noise from behind us. Like a grizzly who got a salmon stuck down the wrong pipe. Turning around, I saw Karim watching the two of us with an odd look on his face.

"Yes?"

"Err...Sahiba? You do know his face looks like a squashed red cabbage, right?"

Lady Samantha and I exchanged a look. Then, as if by silent agreement, we turned towards him, cracking our knuckles. In a completely ladylike fashion, of course. "What did you just say?"

"Um..." Karim took a step back, putting a hand on the hilt of his sabre. "He's the most beautiful baby in the world?"

"That's what I thought you said."

That done, we went back to the best hobby in the world: gushing over my little darling. When we finally started to calm down a little, I saw Lady Samantha give the little fellow a nostalgic look. "You know...he looks just like Ricky did at his age."

I perked up. "He does?"

"Oh yes!" The nostalgia swelled up, and she seemed to look into the distance. "So small. So precious..."

I gave her my most innocent smile. "Say...you wouldn't happen to have any baby pictures of my dear husband lying around, would you?"

"What? Um..." Distracted, she nodded, still far too busy staring at the lovely little bundle of joy in her arms to pay proper attention. "Yes, lots. I can give you some later, dear. Just don't show them to anybody else, will you? He gets so riled up about things like that."

My innocent smile turned downright angelic. The poor, poor, naïve lady. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, Your Ladyship."

As if on cue, the door to the room opened and Mr Ambrose strode in. "I sent a telegram to London to inform Mr Linton of the news." Ha, right! If the day ever comes when Rikkard Ambrose wastes money on sending a telegram to someone who doesn't exist, I'll eat my own hat with a side dish of shoelace spaghetti. "He should arrive in short order."

"That's wonderful!" It was as if someone had lit a light behind Lady Samantha's eyes. She was literally glowing with happiness as she sidled over to me, a happily giggling Berty in her arms. "Isn't that wonderful news, Lilly, dear?"

"Yes. Wonderful," I agreed with a cheerful smile, while inside me, a little devil was dancing holding an imaginary photo album full of baby pictures. "So very wonderful!"

Mwahahaha! Just you wait, Rikkard Ambrose! Vengeance shall be mine!

***

Since it would take several days for "Mr Linton" to arrive, Lady Samantha suggested we should make ourselves at home in the interim. Mr Ambrose took her up on the offer, and asked if a few of his friends could stay at the manor as well.

"Friends?" Her Ladyship's face lit up as if she'd just been told Father Christmas really did exist, and he was coming thrice a year from now on. "You have friends?"

"Oh yes," he told her with an expressionless face. "Plenty."

Giving a happy squeal, Lady Samantha threw her arms around the salt pillar that was her son, then ran off to prepare tea and biscuits for her guests. A minute later, Battlewood Hall was invaded by a small army of plain-clothed men in grey, while a figure in frilly pink dress flitted around, offering everyone refreshments.

As for me?

I was still trying to convince Mr Rikkard Ambrose that his plan was idiotic.

"It won't work!" I told him. "Sure, I can casually fool people into thinking I'm a man, but if they take a closer look or two? Like, for instance, if they think I'm going to marry their daughter? No chance in hell!"

"You're forgetting to lead, Mr Linton," he admonished me.

Ah, yes. Did I mention that I was trying to convince him while he was teaching me how to dance like a man?

I was so screwed.

"Don't let my brother put you down. You're doing a splendid job, Mr Linton. I'm half-seduced already."

That made me send a glare at Adaira—who was currently in my arms being whirled around the ballroom with a broad grin on her face.

"You're enjoying this far too much, aren't you?"

"I disagree. One can't enjoy making fun of one's sister too much. That goes double for sisters-in-law who are trying to dance like a man while wearing a hoop skirt."

"Well, excuse me!" I hissed. "I didn't exactly expect to need my trousers and tailcoat when I came up here to introduce my mother-in-law to her grandchild! Why would I need men's clothes when—"

Abruptly, I stopped. And I wasn't just referring to my words. Adaira stumbled as I suddenly came to a halt in the middle of the dance.

"Oy! That's not very gentlemanly of you, Mr Linton!"

I wasn't paying any attention to her. Instead, I had my eyes fixed on Mr Rikkard Ambrose, my fingers steepled in a not-at-all-evil-villain kind of way. "Say...Mr Ambrose?"

"Yes?"

"Did you actually send someone south? You know, to fetch my male outfit and things like that?"

He stroked his chin. "Now that you mention it...no, I did not."

Bingo!

My inner me stepped up to her blackboard and, just below "baby pictures", added another point to her "Wonderful List of Revenge".

"Well then..." I sidled towards him, grabbing hold of his left arm. "Seems like we need to obtain clothes somehow, don't we?"

Adaira's eyes lit up, and she quickly appeared on her brother's other side, grabbing the free arm faster than I could blink. Ah, apparently she had caught on. "Yes! Yes, you're absolutely right, Lilly!"

"No," Mr Ambrose said, stonily and coldly. But I could see it in his eyes. He knew his doom was coming. "I know what you are thinking, Mrs Ambrose, and the answer is no. Definitely not."

"Oh yes." I grinned. "Definitely yes! It's shopping time!"

Five minutes later, the door of a certain shop in the nearest village opened, announcing our arrival with a ding-dong. At the sound of the bell, the shopkeeper glanced up from his needlework. I noticed his experienced eyes flicking over us, quickly sorting us into categories: Adaira—rich lady customer. Me—rich lady customer. Mr Rikkard Ambrose—victim and living wallet.

"Hello there!" Cheerily, I waved at the man,

"Why, good afternoon, Your Ladyship." Hurrying out from behind his counter, the man bowed deeply. "Welcome to my humble tailor shop. If I may ask, how may I be of assistance?"

"We've come for a complete wardrobe," Adaira informed him. "For making a good impression on future in-laws and, hopefully, for a wedding."

Pound sterling signs were practically blinking in the man's eyes. "Ah! Congratulations, My Lady! Let me assure you that you will find everything you shall need in my establishment."

"Oh, I'm afraid you are mistaken," I cut in, smiling brightly. "The clothes aren't for her. They're for the groom—my brother." I jabbed a finger at Mr Rikkard Ambrose, who somehow managed a long-suffering expression without moving a single facial muscle. "And he's paying. For everything."

The tailor's gaze snapped back to Mr Rikkard Ambrose, and I could see him amending his classification: victim and big living wallet.

Mr Ambrose sent the man his most threatening arctic glare—only to have it fail utterly and completely. Such was the danger of stepping into a shopkeeper's lair with a fat purse.

"Welcome! Welcome, my Lord! Don't you worry. In my humble shop, you shall find anything the gentleman in question could possibly need to impress his soon-to-be in-law." The man's expert eyes flicked up and down Mr Ambrose's form, taking in his attire with a mixture of disdain and determination. "And since you appear to be in dire need of a new wardrobe of your own, I will be more than happy to aid you with this as well."

Instinctively, Mr Ambrose clutched his ten year old mint-condition tailcoat. Leaning sideways, he whispered into my ear, "Are you certain we are in the right establishment?"

"Oh yes!" I nodded happily, tightening my grip on his arm ever so slightly. "Absolutely certain." Then I turned towards the tailor, an innocent smile on my face. "Tell me, do you have any cloth in peacock pattern?"

"Of course, Your Ladyship! Let me show you my stock..."

And we were off into the depths of the shop. During the following few hours, Adaira and I threw ourselves into a hurricane of styles, patterns, cloths and colours. And Mr Rikkard Ambrose was the hapless ship that was caught up in the violent storm of shopping.

"Hey! What do you think of this?" Adaira piped up, holding up a diamond sewn onto velvet.

"Hm...as a decoration?"

"No. As my dress!" My dear sister-in-law clutched the sparkling jewel to her chest with a dreamy expression on her face. "I've always wanted a dress made entirely out of diamonds! And diamond slippers!"

"How about glass slippers?" Mr Ambrose suggested, the muscle in his cheek twitching spasmodically.

"Ha!" Adaira snorted. "Cinderella was such a cheap dollymop! No, I want diamonds! Diamonds and emeralds and sapphires!"

"And you shall have them." I patted her on the shoulder. "After all, my wonderful, generous husband would never deny his little sister a request for her approaching wedding, would he?"

"Mrs Ambrose..." That muscle in Mr Ambrose's cheek twitched again, as if it were being electrocuted. "I may not yet be very experienced in marital matters, but somehow I get the feeling that you are displeased with me."

"Really?" Batting my eyelashes, I held up a horrendously expensive silk vest with gold and diamond buttons. "Whatever gives you that idea, darling?"

"Call it male intuition. Also, put that thing away!"

"But my brother loves gold and diamonds!" I protested. "You wouldn't want him to look anything but his best for the wedding, now, would you?"

"Ehem, Madam..." The shopkeeper cleared his throat. "Excuse my impertinence, but you said you came primarily to purchase a wardrobe for your brother, did you not? If he is not here, how am I supposed to get his measurements?"

"Why, that is simple!" I spread my arms. "My brother and I are twins. You can take my measurements, and I will select all clothes and accessories."

"Now, now, darling," Mr Ambrose cut in, his hand closing around my wrist. "Wouldn't it be better if I, as a fellow man, were to select the clothes for your brother?"

"Ah, but I know my brother's tastes so much better!" I patted his shoulder. "Did you know, for example, that my brother has a liking for fine silk and expensive golden ornaments?"

I felt my dear husband's little finger twitch against my wrist. "I was...not aware of that."

"You see? Just let me take care of this. All you need to do is to wait and pay."

"Really? How splendid."

Roughly three hours later, Adaira, I, and the wreck that was Mr Rikkard Ambrose came out of the shop's front door. Or rather, what little was visible of Mr Ambrose, because most of him was hidden by a ginormous pile of packages.

"I think," came a cool voice from somewhere behind the pile, "I should have brought Karim."

"Oh, but, you're my big, strong man." I reached out to pat his shoulder—then gave up as I couldn't find it under all the packages. "You can carry that alone, can't you?"

"I did not mean bring him for carrying things. I meant for knocking you out before you got the chance to empty my wallet."

"Aww...you say the sweetest things."

Continuing our cheerful marital banter—i.e. I bantered, and he gifted me with beautifully icy silence in return—we made our way back towards Battlewood Hall. Some of Mr Ambrose's staff, led by Karim, were already waiting to quickly help carry all our purchases into the house through the servants' entrance. After all, it wouldn't do for someone to ask why Mr Victor Linton's clothes arrived before Mr Victor Linton himself.

That might cause some...uncomfortable questions.

No, Lady Samantha, my brother totally is not a nudist. You ask how I can be sure? It's easy, I know he prefers to walk in female attire!

I didn't manage to suppress my snort.

Mr Ambrose eyed me suspiciously. "What are you plotting, Mrs Ambrose?"

"Me?" I gave him an innocent look as I crossed my fingers behind my back. "I'm not plotting anything."

At least until I've gotten hold of those baby pictures. Mwahahaha!

"Let's go, shall we?" Sliding an arm around my dear husband's waist, I nodded down the cobblestone path that led around the house. "Lady Samantha would be rather surprised if we snuck in through the servants' entrance. She might even think we were being naughty."

He didn't say anything in response. But the answer "In your case, she would be right!" was practically written all over his stony visage. I couldn't help but smile in response—that is, until we rounded the corner and caught sight of him.

"Mon Dieu!" A smooth, velvet voice echoed across the courtyard. It came from a figure in the shadow of the entrance, right in our path. A figure with a rifle slung across its shoulder. "Fancy meeting you here, Monsieur Ambrose."

-------------------------------------

My apologies for the slight delay, My Lords & Ladies! I totally forgot today was Wednesday :-/

Yours Truly

Sir Rob