The Final Storm

05. Finally Found!

All I received in return was a flat look. "Really."

Dang. Before trying this, I probably should have remembered my lack of experience as a helpless damsel.

Frowning in dissatisfaction, I turned to my husband. "Your employees are being rebellious."

"...in a completely understandable way," he finished my sentence, which I didn't think had needed any finishing. "Besides, you forgot one thing, Mrs Ambrose. We are heading to India. Would you rather Karim stay here to look after Berty, or would you have him accompany us as our guide and translator?"

I bit my lip. He had a point. Out of all of us here, Karim was the only person from India. If he didn't accompany us, it was quite likely for us to go looking for Bombay and ending up in a bay full of bombs.

"Then what are we going to do about Berty?" I frowned.

Mr Ambrose cocked his head. "What I do whenever there is work to do. Hire someone competent. A governess, to be precise."

One of my eyebrows rose. "Governess? For a not-even-one-year-old? Are you expecting her to teach him his letters before he starts to walk?"

"I am not paying a nanny for the sole job of cleaning an infant's posterior a few times a day. If I have to pay an additional salary, the one who receives it might as well teach my son something."

"I repeat, not-even-one-year-old."

"He's my son."

I decided not to argue with that point because, well...that was my son, too. So, governess it was. Just then, however, a problem occurred to me.

"And then what will we do?" I frowned. "Just leave Berty here? I don't feel comfortable with being so far away from him."

"There are plenty of islands between here and India. We can take him with us half the way, and then leave him in the care of the governess under heavy guard."

"Hm...not bad, not bad. But where can we find someone we can trust on such short notice? It's not like we can afford to waste a lot of time here in Britain if we want to catch up to your sister."

"That is indeed a problem," Mr Ambrose agreed. "But nothing the new head of my HR department cannot take care of."

"Um..." Mentally, I started flicking through the images of Mr Ambrose various employees—only to come up blank. "Sorry, but...the new head of your HR department?"

"Indeed." Rising to his feet, Mr Ambrose patted my shoulder. "Congratulations, Mr Linton. You've been promoted from secretary."

Then he turned and strode out of the room before I could pick my jaw back up off the floor.

That son of a...!

"Oy! Do I at least get a pay rise?"

Surprise, surprise: I did not receive an answer.

Muttering a child-friendly semi-curse under my breath, I rose and stretched. "Well...seems like now I have to find someone willing to go to India."

***

"Damn and blast! How the hell am I going to get to India?!" Punching her pillow with a low growl, Adaira rolled over on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. Doing things her own way, doing things as a woman, had sounded so amazing and inspiring at the beginning. But, at the time, she had ignored one tiny fact. There were very few things in this world that women were actually allowed to do.

For a moment, she imagined the scene: simply walking up to a ship's captain and telling him, Good day, Sir, I'm a girl who hasn't yet reached her age of majority and is without a chaperone or any other form of company. I want to book passage to travel halfway around the world to chase after a man I'm not married to so I can have an illicit affair and force my father—who is an influential nobleman, by the way—to acknowledge our union. So, can I book passage on your ship?