Page 190 of New Storm Rising
“Blluurgh!”
My relapse lasted for several minutes but, eventually, I was able to stagger to the elevator and make my way downstairs. I was just about to make my way to the hotel’s dining room, when Mr Ambrose’s arm linked with mine, stopping me in my tracks.
“Where do you think you are going, Mrs Ambrose?”
“Err…to breakfast?”
“Don’t you remember? We have an appointment with the marshal to discuss what is going to happen next.”
“We do? Oh, well…” I couldn’t keep a smile from tugging at the corners of my mouth. “You might have mentioned it. But somehow, I had other matters on my mind last night. You remember?”
Keeping his face distinctly devoid of emotion, Mr Ambrose tightened his grip on my arm and started steering me out of the hotel and away from any curious passers-by before I could start talking about last night in greater detail.
I grinned. My oh my. Was my dear husbandshy?
It didn’t take long before we reached a comfy little café with a view of the harbour. Dozens of tall masts and fluttering sails provided an amazing vista, even without the background of the deep blue ocean and the towering statue raising its torch into the sky.
“Mr and Mrs Ambrose! What a pleasure to see you.” Turning my head, I spotted Marshal Angus Angleton—a surprisingly happy Angus Angleton, considering the last time I had seen him he’d just discovered my hubby and I were colluding with a ruthless desperado.
“Please, sit down,” the marshal offered with a broad smile, pulling back a chair. “Today’s breakfast is on me.”
Definitely surprisingly happy. And friendly on top of that! What was going on?
But before I could get a chance to ask, my dear husband sat down and grabbed the menu. “Adequate. Waiter? Bring three full breakfasts.” He turned to Angleton and myself. “What will the two of you have?”
I covered my eyes with one hand. Sometimes, being married to Mr Ambrose was really an…experience. Oh well, if my husband went all out, there was no reason for me to hold back, was there?
“Well, there is something I’d like…” Lowering my hand, I smiled sweetly. “I wonder whether this café has ice cream…”
Soon, the two men were eating their breakfast while I was bemusedly watching the antics of the waiter, who was trying to convince a disgruntled chef to put ice cream on toast. I didn’t mind waiting for a while, though. Not now that our chase through the desert was finally over and I had some time to relax.
Leaning back, I was just about to close my eyes and take a little nap when I heard something that caught my attention.
“I must really compliment your sense of humour, Mr Ambrose.”
I blinked. Slowly, I turned my head to stare at the marshal. Was he talking about the same Mr Ambrose I knew? Mr My-Face-Is-Made-From-Granite Ambrose? Was this why Angleton had been so happy to see them? Because he’d lost his marbles?
“To think that for a moment, I actually believed a reputable businessman like you cooperated with a desperado. Hahahaha! You actually managed to convince me for just an instant. What a good joke!”
I nearly snorted my drink out through my nose. Coughing, I couldn’t keep a grin from spreading over my face. “Ehem…yes, joke. My hubby is a regular jokester.”
Well, at least now I knew why the fellow was in such a good mood. I suppose it’s right what they say, after all: ignorance is bliss.
“I,” Mr Ambrose stated, his face unmoving, “love making jokes. I make many jokes all the time.”
I nearly choked on my drink again.
“So,” my husband the joke-lover enquired, setting his fork down, his eyes turning chilly. “How are things with our Spanish friends?”
“Very well, I would say.” Brimming with satisfaction, the marshal leaned back in his chair. “The only problem was that the prosecutor nearly fainted from the height of the pile of documents that formed the collective accusations againstSeñoresDe Ravera and De La Fuente. But after he got a chance to actually read them, he took on the job with relish. I do not believe we’ll have to worry about them again.”
“Adequate.” Mr Ambrose nodded. “Any idea how long the trial will take?”
“About six months, I believe. According to what the prosecutor said—”
And thus the discussion continued. I mostly tuned it out, partly because I wasn’t very interested in the subject matter, and partly because my toast had just arrived. Yummy! For a while, I simply concentrated on my breakfast. The men seemed to conclude their discussion just about when I finished with my second toast.
“Ah, I’m glad this is taken care of.” Stretching, the marshal reached for his glass and took a last swig of whiskey. “Now I’ll have to excuse myself. I should go to the telegraph office and send a report to my superiors. Unless there’s anything else…?”
