"My true goal? What, pray, do you mean, Sir?"

The words of the marquess came too fast. Too fiercely. I had accompanied my dear husband into too many business negotiations to not notice the signs.

"Come now, Your Lordship." I gifted the older man with an indulgent smile. "I am your son's secretary—meaning I read every single letter he receives. This includes the ones sent by your esteemed self. You took great care to announce Lady Adaira's upcoming marriage with multiple messages to a son you had hardly even seen in the last decade. So much care, in fact, it makes one wonder if you did not use this as a pretext to lure him to Battlewood for another purpose entirely."

His Lordship sent me a stern glare. "I have no idea what you might be blabbering about, young man!"

"Don't you, My Lord? Then I suppose I will just have to ask your son about the matter. I believe he went to visit his family, so he should be easy enough to find and—"

"Halt!"

The marquess's barked command stopped me before I had even managed to turn around.

"Since my son is with his family, let us not disturb him, shall we? Family is important."

All right, now I definitely knew something fishy was going on! Family is important? Those three words out of the mouth of the Marquess Ambrose? He wanted something. He wanted something from my husband very badly. I just didn't know what yet.

"Now that I have had a moment to reconsider," the older man's voice tore me from my thoughts, "maybe you are not such a bad candidate for the position of my daughter's husband after all." With three steps, he was around the desk and in front of me, his eyes boring into me. "I shall consider your request for my daughter's hand—"

Yes!

Swiftly, I performed a bow. "Thank you, My Lord."

Wait. Why was I thanking him for getting a chance to marry my sister-in-law? Argh! This was so confusing!

"—but only consider." His sharp words hit me before I could even straighten out of my bow. "You will still have to prove yourself worthy of being connected to a noble line such as mine. If you do not, no matter what my wife, daughter, or anyone else says, you will be out of here faster than you can blink. Understood?"

Oh, I wouldn't be sure about that. You learn to blink pretty fast when you get your pay deducted for the time you have your eyes closed.

"Yes, My Lord! As you say, My Lord!" I hesitated. "I know that you are a busy man, so now that this matter is concluded..."

"You are excused."

"Then I shall take my leave, My Lord." With another hasty bow, I retreated to the door. "I have some urgent business to take care of."

"Very well, then." He waved his hand. "Go!"

Without further ado, I slipped out of the room. Once outside, I waited a moment or two, making sure the door was closed—then dashed off down the corridor at top speed! Heck, was I glad right now that I was wearing trousers instead of some cumbersome dress. I had to run! Because I hadn't been lying when I told the marquess I had something urgent to do. I had to find Mr Rikkard Ambrose before he infected my baby with his fiendish vocabulary!

By the time I reached my, or rather, Mrs Lillian Ambrose's room, there was no sign of my dear husband. Hurriedly, I rushed over to the crib next to the bed, only to be greeted by Berty's cheerful smile.

"My little boy..." Unable to resist, I pulled him into my arms and started gently swaying from left to right, which elicited a happy giggle. "Hello there. I'm your uncle, and simultaneously your mother. It's all your father's fault of course. He's truly evil, isn't he?"

"Waah?"

"I'm glad you agree." My fingertips gently touched his nose, which resulted in the cutest crunched-up face I had ever seen. "Since we get along so well, would you do your motheruncle a favour? Say 'mama'. It's easy. Just 'maaa-maaa'."

"Waaa-waaah?"

My shoulders sagged. Darn!

Well, at least he hadn't gone over to his father's side yet.

"Say..." I enquired, perking up, "would you like your new uncle to read you some more of the story of Scrooge the miserable miser?"

"Waah!"

"Well then, let's fetch the book and continue, shall we?"

***

From that moment onwards, I was firmly ensconced in my alter ego's bedroom, a book in one hand and the bundle of repeatedly pooping joy that was Berty in the other. It was...blissful. Peaceful. The first peaceful moment I'd had in quite a long time, if I was being honest. How long it lasted, I couldn't really tell. I was too lost in Berty's happy baby smiley face and the sublime literature of Mr Charles Dickens. Mostly it was Berty's happy baby smiley face, though.

"...and thus, the Ghost of Christmas Present took a giant money bag and started beating Scrooge over the head with it."

"Waah, waah!" Berty applauded with his little baby hands, gifting me with cheerful giggles.

"And Scrooge decided that money wasn't so nice after all, and decided to quickly reform himself before he died from excessive head trauma."

Oh, and I may have modified Mr Charles Dickens' magnificent work of literature a tiny little bit. So what? Sue me! Berty liked my version better.

"When the Ghost of—"

Abruptly, I was interrupted by a knock on the door. I froze. My gaze flicked up to the door, and before I could so much as twitch a finger, said door opened and revealed the dainty form of Lady Samantha Genevieve Ambrose, Marchioness Ambrose.

"Hello, Miss Linton. I heard you weren't feeling well, so I just wanted to come check how you are doing and—"

The marchioness broke off in the middle of her sentence, staring at me. She froze in place, her mouth hanging slightly open. Slowly, tremulously, she raised a hand and pointed at me.

Crap! I just realised I was sitting in Lilly Ambrose's room, with Lilly Ambrose's child in my arms, while wearing Mr Victor Linton's trousers! Had she seen through my—?

"You!" The marchioness exclaimed. "You...you are..."

She had! Oh my God! OhmyGodohmyGod! She knew who I really was! What was I going to do now?

"...so wonderful!"

Huh?

"You heard that your sister was ill, so you came up here to take care of her newborn child for her? That...that is..." Fishing a lace handkerchief from her pocket, Her Ladyship delicately blew her nose and wiped a stray tear away. "You are such a good man, Mr Linton. Not many men would condescend to do what most would see as women's work, even if it is to help their loved ones. You truly are a shining example of what a man should be."

I hope not. Or else, the future procreation of the human race will have some problems.

"Um...thank you?"

Judging by the way her face softened, the hesitant tone in my voice must have given her the wrong idea. With quick steps, she crossed the distance between us and placed a gentle hand on the arm that held Berty. "No need to sound so shy. You can rest assured—if there had been any doubts in my mind that you are the right man for Adaira, they are gone now. I will make sure that this marriage takes place, no matter what."

"How...wonderful." One corner of my mouth twitched. "Thank you so very much, Your Ladyship."

"You are most welcome. But..." Confused, she glanced around. "Where is Miss Linton? Wasn't she resting?"

"She, err..." God, why did both my arms have to be full? Right now, I really wished I had a hand free so I could cross my fingers behind my back. "She went out to take a walk and clear her head. I promised to take care of little Berty in her absence."

"Aww...that's so sweet of you!" Lady Samantha's eyes were practically shining with grandmotherliness. "You're going to make an amazing father!"

"Um...thank you for the compliment, Your Ladyship, but somehow I don't think so."

"Don't be so humble, Mr Linton. Or..." Realisation flashed in her kind eyes. Stepping closer, she gently squeezed my shoulder. "Is it because you don't believe in yourself? Because you don't trust yourself to be a good father?"

"I..."

It's because being a father would be rather difficult with my uncle's socks being my only equipment!

"You must not think like this, do you hear?" If there were a contest for warm, comforting smiles, the one on Lady Samantha's face right now would undoubtedly win first prize. Unfortunately, it didn't do much to encourage me. "I'm an old woman, Mr Linton, old and experienced. I've long learned to look past what is visible on the surface and see the hearts of people—"

Really? Are you sure?

"—and I can see that you are a good, truly good man, Mr Linton. The very best of them. And you are going to make a wonderful father."

Yep. That's what I thought.

"Even if you stumble at the start, remember that patience is a virtue. With time, you will grow into a man any son would be proud of."

...and astonish biologists the world over.

"Thank you so much for your kind words, Your Ladyship." Little Berty still tightly clutched in my arms, I rose to my feet and gave a slight bow. "Your words of wisdom have given me courage."

"Really?"

"Oh yes." Specifically the courage to beat the stuffing out of Mr Rikkard Ambrose. If I really end up married to my sister-in-law, his days are numbered!

Images of a helpless Mr Ambrose, tied to my bed and completely at my mercy with a handy assortment of whips and chains nearby, appeared in front of my inner eye. Hm...this had possibilities. My attention wandered as the scene in my mind took on somewhat more interesting aspects. For example, it would be far easier to properly punish Mr Ambrose if he were naked, right? Oh, and I had once heard of this delicious torture method that used feathers to tickle people in sensitive areas that...

"—find dear Lilly."

I blinked. Wait, what?

"Excuse me, Your Ladyship," I hurriedly exclaimed. "I was a little bit distracted." ...thinking about doing kinky things with your naked son. "Could you repeat what you just said?"

"Oh, of course." The marchioness smiled. "I was saying I should go find dear Lilly and ask how she is. If she still isn't feeling better, maybe I should send for a doctor."

She moved towards the door.

"W-wait!" I didn't hesitate for a second. In a blink, I surged to my feet and threw the book into a corner.

Crap, crap, crap! Why didn't I put Berty in the crib earlier? I can't very well give him the same treatment!

Never in my life had I moved so swiftly and gently at the same time. Just barely, I managed to deposit Berty safely in his crib before Her Ladyship left the room and then launched myself forward to block her way.

"Oh, please don't tire yourself out running around, Your Ladyship! I can make sure dear Lilly is all right, if you want. You should sit down and rest for a bit. Why not leave the tiring things to the younger generation?" Especially since, if you go looking for "dear Lilly", I doubt you will find anything!

She hesitated. "But..."

"Besides," I added quickly, "someone should stay here to take care of little Berty, right?"

Instantly, Lady Samantha swallowed any and all arguments. "You're right!" Longing eyes landed on the tiny form of her grandson, who, by now, was peacefully sleeping in his crib again. "Children can be such a handful. You're probably exhausted from taking care of him and need a break, right? Most likely, you need an experienced lady to step in and help you, right?"

The hope flashing in her eyes was adorable.

"Absolutely," I agreed. "That's just it!"

"Well..." Lady Samantha started edging towards the cuteness personified that was my son with the look of an opium addict looking for her next fix. "If you really insist..."

"Oh, I do. I most definitely do."

"And..." Her Ladyship hesitated. "You don't think Lilly would mind?"

"Oh, I'm fairly certain she wouldn't mind at all."

"Really?" A beaming smile spread over the face of the marchioness. "She's such a sweet young lady!"

"Yes, the sweetest. Now, if you'd excuse me..."

I waited for her answer—only to realise I wasn't going to get one. Her Ladyship's attention was long gone, now fully focused on a certain bundle of joy she was currently cuddling in her arms.

"Coochie coochie coo...aren't you just the cutest little thing? You're going to be a big strong man when you grow up, just like your father, aren't you? But don't do it too quickly, let me spoil you a little first..."

Judging by the expression on her face, an elephant could have crashed through the wall and she wouldn't have noticed.

This was it! This was my chance! On tiptoes, I snuck out of the room and, as soon as I was out of hearing range, dashed away down the corridor.

Why was I in such a hurry, you may ask? To look for dear Lilly and see if she is all right?

Ha! Hardly!

If I wanted to find myself, I would go buy some cheap self-help books. No, I was looking for Mr Rikkard Ambrose!

Something about my expression must have tipped people off. Because no matter where I went, no matter how many servants crossed my path, they all scurried out of my way with an alacrity that would have impressed sprinting leopards. Nevertheless, I managed to snatch some hapless victims and probe them for information. Just three short interrogations were enough for me to receive directions. Only a minute or two later, I pushed open a door and stormed into a certain room, my eyes fixed the back of the business mogul sitting at the table, working through a pile of documents.

"Mister. Rikkard. Ambrose."

As much as it was possible for a granite statue, he stiffened. "I merely went to spend some time with my son," he pointed out without turning around. "I did not say a word."

"Ordinarily, that is something I might believe. But under these circumstances?" I stalked closer. "How many times did you use the forbidden word in his presence? The one that starts with P?"

He cocked his head. "I don't know, exactly. How often can you say the word 'papa' in half an hour?"

My fingers twitched. Gently, I placed my hands on Mr Ambrose's shoulders and moved them closer to his throat.

"Do you know what I am about to do, Mr Ambrose, Sir?"

"Try and strangle me?"

Gently, I cupped his left cheek. "Tempting, but no. I didn't come here because of what you might or might not have said to our son—"

"Indeed?"

"—although we will have words about that later. No, this isn't about us. This is about your father and his plans."

That certainly got Mr Rikkard Ambrose's attention. His head whipped around, eyes pinning me to the spot with unsettling intensity.

"Plans? What do you know of his plans?"

"You were right," I told him. "Adaira's upcoming 'betrothal' to the vicomte was just an excuse to lure you here. Behind that, there is some secret motive. Some reason why he needs you here."

Under my touch, I felt him stiffen further. "What reason?"

"I don't know." Leaning forward, I studied his chiselled, unmoving face. A puzzle I was still trying to solve after several years of marriage. "But you do, don't you?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his little finger twitch.

Bingo!

"I..."

That was the only word that escaped his lips before he clamped his mouth shut. There was something in his eyes...something dark, and something painful. Like an old wound that had long festered.

Cupping both of his cheeks in my hands, I placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Take your time. If you can't tell me yet, I'll wait." My eyes sparkled with mischief. "Patience is a virtue, I'm told."

Instantly, his eyes went back to their usual icy sternness. "Whoever told you that, Mrs Ambrose, is a blithering idiot."

"Why, thank you. I shall pass your compliment along to your mother."

"You...!"

It was impressive how fast his hand could move. In the blink of an eye, he had a tight grip on my wrist that would be impossible to break free from. At least unless I gave him a good kick in the nuts, which, for the sake of Berty's future siblings, I would refrain from for now.

"Don't. You. Dare. Don't you dare tell her that."

"Oh...?" My eyes sparkled. "By now, you should know me better. You really think there is anything I wouldn't dare?" I let that sentence hang in the air for one second before I continued, "But don't you worry. I won't bother your mother or dig into whatever your father is up to..." My voice hardened. "...under one condition. There is one thing I need to know."

He looked straight at me. "What?"

"Your father's plans...are they aimed just at the two of us?" My fists clenched. "Or at Berty as well?"

Understanding flashed in his eyes. A moment later, his arms were around me, and he had pulled me against his chest, holding me tight.

"It's all right," he whispered into my hair. "He's after me. Just after me."

"No." Capturing his hand with my own, I interlaced my fingers with his, making sure for one particular finger to be on display: the one with my wedding ring on it. "He's after us."

His grip tightened. He leaned back and, lifting my hand to his lips, kissed the golden ring that bound us together. From beneath dark lashes, fathomless, sea-coloured eyes stared straight into my soul.

"Us. Together forever."

I had to admit...there were things to say for my husband's particular brand of brevity.

Swallowing, I stayed frozen where I was, unable to look away from Mr Ambrose, unable to move.

Well...the latter wasn't exactly true. Slowly, I seemed to be moving inexorably closer to him. It wasn't me doing it, I swear! It probably was gravity.

And is it also gravity's fault that you're about to kiss him? came a mocking little voice from the back of my mind.

Well, yes, probably. Gravity was a devious plotter that was probably behind half the kisses in the world. So why not simply give in? After all, who was I to resist one of the fundamental forces of the universe?

Gravity? Or is that love you're talking about?

Who the hell cares!

Instinctively, my arms slipped around my husband's neck and, grabbing him by the short hairs, dragged him towards me. His lips came closer and closer, until finally—

Thud. Thud. Thud.

—I froze at the sound of footsteps. Footsteps approaching the room in which Mr Rikkard Ambrose was currently about to kiss his future brother-in-law.

Crap!

My legs moved before my mind did. Pushing back against Mr Ambrose, I catapulted myself across the room, uncaring of where I went as long as I put enough distance between the two of us. I might be ready to play Adaira's intended to help her out, but I sure as hell was not ready to feature as the subject of this century's most outrageous newspaper scandal.

From behind me, I heard a thunk. Most likely the sound of Mr Ambrose's chair colliding with the desk. Or maybe his head. Right now, I didn't really care. Scrambling across the room, I did my best to quickly check my clothes for any signs of what we had been up to just now. Any hickeys? Any—

A knock came from the door.

Rising from his chair, Mr Ambrose straightened his clothes and fixed his gaze upon the entrance. "Enter!"

The door opened, and a marvellously hairy head appeared through the gap. "Good afternoon, Ambrose Sahib, Mr Linton, I—"

"Karim!" I placed a hand over my hammering heart. "Phew, don't scare us like that! I thought it was some stranger walking in on us! The two of us were just about to—"

"Mr Linton!" Karim talked over me, his voice raised to drown out mine. "Ambrose Sahib! I have been asked to enquire whether you are available. You have a visitor."

"Visitor?" Mr Ambrose's eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "Who?"

"That would be me, Monsieur," came a voice from beyond the bodyguard. And, from behind his mountainous form stepped out a slightly slimmer, if no less impressive figure. The Vicomte de Saint-Celeste smiled at me—or at least showed his teeth. "Don't let me interrupt you, Monsieur. What, pray, were the two of you about to do?"

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

My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

So, who do you think the true villain of this story is? Saint-Celeste or Ambrose Senior? ;)

Yours Truly

Sir Rob