Hunting for Silence (Storm and Silence 5)

Aunt Brank didn’t waste time with asking question. Carpet beater still in hand, she whirled around, marched towards the door and ripped it open.

‘Yes?’

There was a moment of silence. Very cool, very familiar silence. Mr Ambrose’s icy gaze rested for a moment on the carpet beater, then slowly rose to my aunt’s face.

She dropped the carpet beater.

He inclined his head about a millimetre.

‘W-who are you?’ she demanded, raising her chin to glare at him. ‘What do you want?’

‘My name,’ he said, sending back an arctic stare that had her retreating down the hall, ‘is Rikkard Ambrose.’ Removing his top hat and gloves, he stepped into the house without bothering to wait for an invitation and surveyed the small, sparse entryway with the supreme confidence of a general entering newly conquered territory. ‘I think it’s time you and I had a little talk.’

THE END

Meeting of Misers

Additional Chapter

‘My name is Rikkard Ambrose. I think it’s time you and I had a little talk.’

My aunt’s mouth dropped open.

‘R…Rick…Rickard…A-Ambrose?’

One look at her face was enough for me to see—she knew who he was. Of course she did. My aunt had kept

a list of London’s most eligible bachelors since my sisters and I were old enough to hold our own spoons. There was no way she wouldn’t know the name of the man who stood unchallenged at the very top.

‘The Ri…Rickard Ambrose?’

‘No. Not Ririckard. Rickard.’

Neatly folding his gloves, he slipped them into his tailcoat pocket, and, hanging the top hat on the hat stand, stepped into the hallway without wasting time on asking first.

‘You are Hester Mahulda Brank, I presume?’

‘Y-you’ve heard of me?’

Mr Rikkard Ambrose glanced at me.

‘Oh yes.’

My aunts shrivelled vulture face flushed with pleasure. I didn’t she had noticed that glance in my direction, or the ominous emphasis on his words.

Just then, footsteps approached from the drawing room.

‘Aunt Brank?’ Maria stuck her head out into the hallway. ‘Aunt Brank, what’s the commotion? Who is i—’

That was the moment she spotted Mr Ambrose.

‘Grrgmmph.’

‘Quite the unusual name, I must say.’ Mr Ambrose inclined his head about half a millimetre. ‘Greetings, Miss Grrgmmph. My name is Rikkard Ambrose.’

‘Ri-Rickard Am…Ambrose…’

‘Hm. Deficient hearing seems to be common in this family.’