Hunting for Silence (Storm and Silence 5)

Precious!

That dastardly old badger…! I…

I felt Mr Ambrose’s hand holding me back.

He cocked his head. ‘I thought it traditionally is the duty of the bride’s family to pay a dowry?’

‘I’ve never been particularly fond of traditions that empty my wallet. So…’ Small black eyes sparkling, eh leaned forward. ‘How. Much. Will. You. Pay. For. Her?’

Ambrose regarded him coolly for a moment or two—then leaned forward, too, meeting his gaze. ‘Not a penny.’

My mouth dropped open. But before anything could come out of it, he grabbed my hand and, stepping forward, continued, ‘Because I know her. Because she is free to choose. I cannot offer money to buy what you don’t own. I will only marry her because she wants to, not because you allow it.’

I felt a lump rise in my throat. He…he just said the most wonderfully romantic thing he had ever uttered in his life to me. And he did it while being as miserable a skinflint a skinflint as ever. That was the man I loved!

‘Harrumph.’ Uncle Bufford’s did his very best to hide it under his bushy eyebrows, but I saw the glint of approval in his eyes. ‘So it’s like that, is it?’ He gazed at Mr Ambrose out of narrowed eyes. ‘Are you at least going to pay for the ceremony?’

I grinned. Translation: you have my blessing.

‘No. Are you?’

Translation: thank you.

Well…I was being optimistic about that one.

‘No.’

‘Hm.’

‘Hm. Hm. We appear to be at an impasse.’

‘Indeed?’

‘Yes. I completely approve of you, yet I cannot agree to the match as long as you remain stubborn on this issue.’

Mr Ambrose considered for a moment. ‘How about we split the costs fifty-fifty?’

‘Sounds sensible. However, I have paid for her room and board for more then a decade. The costs of that should be subtracted from my share, which would leave you owing me, let me see…’ Reaching for an abacus, he swiftly shifted a few different-coloured beads around, then looked up. ‘Roughly two-hundred pounds sterling, ten shillings and sixpence.’

The answer came swift and decisive. ‘Unacceptable.’

‘I’m afraid that is a non-negotiable condition.’

‘Then we are indeed at an impasse.’

‘Indeed.’

‘Hm.’

‘Hm. Hm.’

I grinned. ‘I can see the two of you are going along great!’

Two heads turned, and two cool gazes bored into me, silently asking What is this deranged female talking about?

My grin widened, and, folding my arms behind my neck, I leaned back in my armchair. ‘By all means, do continue. I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy this.’

‘You are supposed to be fearful and anxious to obtain my blessing,’ Uncle Bufford grumbled.