It took three more days of searching for us to finally give up.
"I quit!" I stumbled into our hotel suite after another exhausting day of looking all over the city, and slumped face-forward onto the bed. "I surrender! Heck, I thought my male disguise was good, but heck, Adaira's must be mind-bogglingly amazing if we still haven't found any trace of her after everything we've done!"
"I must admit, I underestimated my sister." Beside me, the mattress dipped, and I felt Mr Rikkard Ambrose's comforting hand settle on my shoulder.
Rolling around, I frowned up at him. "How could her disguise be so perfect that nobody can see through it? How can you disguise a bloody peacock vest? It's incredible!"
"Indeed." A muscle in Mr Ambrose's cheek twitched. "I must admit I am...I am..."
His jaw worked, but no more sound came out.
I couldn't help but grin. "...impressed? But at the same time, you want to throttle the little brat?"
That muscle in his cheek twitched again. "Quite."
"So...what do we do now, Mr Ambrose, Sir?"
"The only thing we can do." Glancing over at the crib beside the bed, he reached out and gently stroked the cheek of the sleeping Berty. "If my experience as a bank owner has told me one thing, it is that you protect what is precious to you."
Your experience as a bank owner? Of course, Sir, I'm sure that's why you feel like that. No other reason whatsoever.
But I didn't say those words out loud.
"And what is the only thing we can do?" I asked, softly. "Because honestly, I can't see any way."
"Simple. We go to India and search for her ourselves."
I stiffened. Eyes widening, they flicked over to his. "You mean...to find your sister, we will do the one thing we both agreed was egregiously stupid and suicidally dangerous?"
He glanced down at Berty again. "She's family."
Those words were the only answer, and they made my heart melt. Pushing myself up, I grabbed a hold of him by the short hairs and dragged him into a fierce kiss.
"I love you," I whispered.
"I might also still hold some not inconsiderable affection for you, Mrs Ambrose."
I smirked. "Even after I infected your sister with my crossdressing ways?"
"Even then."
"Glad to hear it. Well, then...I suppose our next step is to book passage to India?"
"Indeed."
"I'll pack my things. Though..." Instantly, my gaze hardened and bored into his. "One thing had better be clear, Mister. We are not taking Berty into a warzone."
He stiffened. "No. No, we are not."
The look in his eyes was cold. Hard. Uncompromising. It lifted a big weight off my heart.
"But then what are we going to do? We can't just go off gallivanting on an adventure like we used to. We're married and have a child now, and we can't leave him here. Unless..." My eyes strayed to the silent figure of Karim in the corner.
Karim, with the trained senses of an experienced bodyguard, immediately sensed the deadly danger. Putting a hand on his sabre hilt in preparation for self-defence, he levelled a glare at me.
"I am not going to be a nanny."
"Aww." I put on my best helpless damsel face. "Not even for me? Really?"
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?
There probably wasn't any faster way to get thrown into the local loony bin. Unless, of course, they decided to do something worse and sent her straight back to her father.
No, Adaira decided, while she might not disguise herself as a man, that did not mean she could just travel as Adaira Louise Jannet Melanie Georgette Ambrose. Some sort of disguise, some sort of fake identity, would still be necessary.
The only question was...what?
Who could she possibly pretend to be, what role could she assume, that would allow her to travel all the way to India without suspicion?
Frustrated at the lack of ideas, Adaira turned over to stare at the landscape painting on the wall. It was then that her gaze accidentally fell onto the newspaper on the nightstand. A newspaper that was open to the "help wanted" page where a small, inconspicuous advertisement immediately caught her eye.
GOVERNESS WANTED FOR TRAVEL ABROAD
Travel goal: Indian Colonies
Well-educated women preferred
Apply to: 224 Kensington Road
Oh my.
Maybe there was a way after all.
***
Knock, knock!
At the sudden sound from the door, I quickly put down the book I had been reading to Berty and, hurrying towards the door, pulled it open.
"Um...Good morning, Miss...?"
"Madam," The woman on whose jaw one could have cracked rocks cut me off. "Madam Edith Briar Buzard."
"Ehem. I see, Madam Buzard." I gave the woman my best smile, completely ignoring her stern gaze. Courtesy of Mr Ambrose, I had long grown immune to those. "Good day. May I know to what I owe the pleasure of your company this morning?"
"This." A small piece of paper was thrust under my nose. Squinting, I managed to discover that it was my advertisement for a governess in the local newspaper, cut out with perfect precision. "I want the position."
Well, she certainly seemed like the kind of woman my dear husband would approve of. Now all that remained was to find out whether she had human emotions like empathy.
"Please, come in." Stepping aside, I gestured for her towards the drawing room. "Would you like something to drink?"
"Drinks are a creation of the devil. They do nothing but drive honest, hard-working folk to become wastrels."
One of my eyebrows twitched. "I meant tea. While we sit down, I ask you some questions."
"Hm. Well, I suppose that is acceptable."
Oh yes. Mr Ambrose would definitely approve of her.
Leading the way to the drawing room, I poured two cups of tea from the pot I had made not too long ago and gestured for my guest to take a seat, while I settled down in an armchair myself.
Opposite me, Madame Buzard took a seat and speared me with her cool gaze. "Now, Miss..." With two fingers, she lifted her teacup and sniffed at it suspiciously, as if to check whether I had spiked it. "What do you want to discuss before I get the position? Let's get straight to it."
"Why, certainly." Plastering a smile onto my face, I took a sip from my own cup. "I would like to ask about your methods of handling and rearing children. If you were to take care of a little boy, how would you do it?"
"With a riding crop."
I nearly spewed out my tea.
"E-excuse me?"
"Or a whip," she added as an afterthought. "After all, instilling discipline in children is the most important thing."
I sent the woman a warning look. She clearly didn't notice. "He is not even one year old!"
"You can never start education too early."
"I see. And you came to this amazing realisation how exactly?"
"Oh, it was clear to me from the very beginning. For some reason, however, many foolish parents seem to disagree." She sniffed dismissively. "Their loss."
"I'm sure." I showed a smile again. The other woman didn't seem to notice that, this time, it somewhat resembled that of a shark. "Then, let me introduce you to your charge."
Reaching out for the little bell on the nearby table, I rang.
A moment passed. And another. Then the door opened...and Karim strode into the room, fully armed and one hand on the hilt of his sabre. "Yes, Sahiba?"
Cocking my head, I turned back to Madame Buzard. "This is the little one you have to educate. Now, would you like to try using your riding crop?"
About thirty seconds later, the woman was out of the building. Heaving a big sigh of relief, I slammed the door shut and leaned against it.
"Let me guess, Sahiba." Karim lifted a bushy eyebrow. "The first interview was not a success?"
I sent a threatening glare at him that my husband would have been proud of. "Berty's diapers will need changing soon."
Fortunately for him, the bodyguard shut his mouth.
Unfortunately for me, that was the moment when another knock came from the door. Squaring my shoulders, I turned to face the door. Perhaps, this time, I would have better luck?
After only a moment of hesitation, I grabbed the doorknob and pulled open the door.
"Good day, Madam," a curvy young woman with a neckline deeper than the Mariana Trench curtsied and tried to peek past me. "I'm here about the position of the governess. May I ask, is your husband home?"
I closed the door again.
Karim stuck his head into the room.
"Not a suitable candidate, Sahiba?"
"Ehem. Well...it wasn't a candidate! Just someone who had mistaken the address!"
"Indeed, Sahiba?"
"Yes. Definitely." Trying to ignore the way my ears were burning red, I made my way back to Berty's crib. "I'm going to sit with Berty for a while. Let me know if there is something that requires my attention."
"As you wish, Sahiba."
For a few minutes, time passed in blissful calm. Humming a melody, I rocked Berty in my arms and started to unbutton my dress. I had just satisfied Berty's appetite and once more failed to get him to say "Mama" when another knock came from the door.
Well, they do say three times is the charm, right?
Buttoning up my dress and striding over to the door, I pulled it open—only to realise that "they" were idiots.
"Good day, Ma'am," said an old, warty hag that looked as if she had climbed straight out of a gingerbread house in a certain Grimm fairy tale. "I hear you have a child to look after? I simply love children!"
Suffice it to say, that particular interview didn't go very well. Nor did the one after that. Or the one after. Or the...well, you get the idea.
"Bloody hell!"
Slumping against the wall in exhaustion as the door fell shut once again, I dragged in a deep breath of air. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to put an advertisement in the paper after all.
"How long before Mr Ambrose comes back?" I demanded, massaging my temples.
"How long before he can relieve you, you mean, Sahiba?" Karim's beard twitched, which was as close to a smile as he ever got. In the next moment, however, any hint of humour vanished. "I do not know how long he will be gone, Sahiba. He is trying to arrange passage for us. Not normally a difficult thing to achieve—or at least it wouldn't be with any destination but India. But with my homeland in the clutches of Dalgliesh and the East India Company..." His hand clenched into a fist around the hilt of his sabre. "As much as I don't want to say it, India right now is the stronghold of that cabal of greedy kutē dē putara! Getting into the country without being caught would be harder than squeezing a camel through the eye of a needle."
That put a thoughtful look on my face. As if able to read my thoughts, Karim continued: "And no, Sahiba, you cannot remedy the situation by building a giant needle, even if you have a pet camel at home."
"Pity." My lips twitched. "And here I thought I could surprise my darling husband with it when he comes back. Well then, I suppose I can take a break now and—"
Knock, knock!
"—interview another governess?" my loyal bodyguard finished the sentence.
"Karim?"
"Yes, Sahiba?"
"Someday, you're going to be put on diaper duty. For a whole week, I promise you."
With that last horrifying threat, I turned towards the exit and marched over. Dragging in a deep breath to fortify myself, I pulled open the door. But I didn't really quite dare to look. What horrifying creature would the next candidate be? A child-eating troll? A demoness looking for a job change?"
"Good day," I told my new candidate, and finally forced myself to look up. "How may I help you?"
"Good day to you, too, Your Ladyship. I'm here about the advertisement for a governe—oh crap!"
For a long moment, one long and utterly silent moment, Adaira and I stared at each other.
Then...
"Oh, um...excuse me. Wrong door."
And she skedaddled. Or at least she tried to.
"Oy! No, you don't!"
Lunging forward, I managed to grab her by the back of her dress. She stumbled, and before she could find her footing again, I dragged her back through the door and slammed it shut.
"Now, Adaira dear..." With a broad smile, I pushed her into an armchair. "Let's have a little chat, shall we?"
-----------------------------------------
My dear Readers,
In case there is some confusion about Karim's country of origin - Karim is from a region that, in modern days, would be part of Pakistan. However, in the nineteenth century, Pakistan was not yet an independent country, but was under British rule along with what today is modern India and Bangladesh. According to my understanding, when the Indian subcontinent gained independence from the British, it eventually split into the nation of India, inhabited mostly by Hindus, and the nation of Pakistan, inhabited mostly by Muslims.
Yours Truly
Sir Rob
---------------------------------
GLOSSARY:
The Mariana Trench - The Mariana Trench is the deepest part of the sea on earth, located in the western part of the Pacific Ocean.
Kutē dē putara—Punjabi for "sons of dogs".