Storm of Bells

15. Steamy Scenes

'I really can't thank you enough, Mr Linton,' Mr Stone sighed in contentment, moving the iron from left to right, steam wallowing all around him. 'This is such a nice holiday from all the exhausting office work.'

'Um, yes...holiday.' Doubtfully I eyed the giant piles of laundry rising behind Mr Stone, almost to the ceiling of my office. I had a sneaking suspicion that Mr Rikkard Ambrose had dumped the laundry of his entire office staff into my lap. 'Are you sure you don't mind?'

'Mind? Are you joking?' Mr Stone gazed lovingly at the ironing board, his gaze drifting off into the distance. 'This reminds me of the good old days with Ma. I'll have to visit her again soon.'

'You'll do that. I'll be at the front desk. By the way...is it all right if I organize your notes a little bit?'

'Would you?' He threw me a worshipful look. 'Thank you, Mr Linton! Thank you so much! I can never make head or tail of Mr Ambrose's filing system.'

'You're welcome.'

I stepped towards the door and was just about leave when, with a thump, a small metal container landed on my desk. The reason why it was a thump and not a plink, was because my desk was padded by a dozen layers of gentlemen's waistcoats. Picking up the capsule, I popped it open, unfolded the paper and read,

Mr Linton,

Another load of laundry shall arrive soon. Be ready.

Rikkard Ambrose

Picking up a pen, I scribbled:

Dearest most beloved Mr Ambrose,

Bring it on!

Sincerely yours

Lillian Linton

Then I left the room, whistling, and stepped out into the hallway.

I had been sitting outside at the desk for some time, reading a fascinating scene in Mr Stone's little book that was giving me some interesting ideas for my wedding night, when I heard the paternoster rattling. My interest piqued, I glanced up. From within the shaft, I heard muffled banging, accompanied by, 'Bloody hell, bloody, bloody hell! What infernal machine is this? Brother dear, when I get my hands on you...!'

Grinning, I lowered the book, already knowing who it would be. Moments later, a fabulous, raven-haired fury stumbled from the paternoster and, before the mechanism had the chance to move on, gave it a resounding kick. 'Damn invention of Satan!'

'Well, hello to you, too, Adaira.' I waved to her, and she turned towards me.

She gave me a smile—which quickly turned into a frown. Hands on hips, she advanced on me. 'Hey, what's this? Has my prospective sister-in-law been demoted from secretary to receptionist?'

From next door issued the hiss of steam escaping from a boiling hot iron.

'I prefer to think of it as a strategic promotion,' I told her with a grin. 'Besides...this job is a piece of cake, really.'

'It is?'

'Oh yes.' Reaching into a certain drawer of the desk, I pulled out a platter of homemade chocolate cake after Mr Stone's ma's recipe. That woman knew how to bake! 'There's still quite a bit left. Want some?'

'My, my! You do know how to live here at Empire House. If I'd known my brother was this generous with his employees, I'd have considered joining, myself.'

I gave a little shudder.

'A piece of friendly advice: don't. At least not here.' If Mr Ambrose was a chauvinistic office tyrant in regard to me, I couldn't imagine how bad it would get when it came to his little sister.