Yes, thank you. The same to you.
‘So you came.’
‘Indeed.’
Silence.
Silence colder than ice.
Silence colder than the primordial cold before fire was invented.
‘Well?’ The two voices were alike, but never in a million years would I mistake Mr Ambrose for his father. His father’s voice was cold and ruthless in a way that made me want to scrub myself. Mr Ambrose’s voice was cold and ruthless in a way that made butterflies dance in my stomach. ‘I am waiting, Father.’
‘Waiting for what?’
A noise as if from a shifting glacier came from inside. I thought for a moment Mr Ambrose had truly turned into an iceberg - but then I realised that he was just cracking his knuckles. ‘A ‘thank you’ would not be a bad idea, to start with.’
‘Me? Thank you? You, who have dragged our family name into the mud?’
‘I dragged you out of the mud, father! Out of debt, and despicable poverty! You and the rest of our family! Do you remember where I found you? Do you? You should be thanking me on bended knee!’
‘Insolent boy! You will show me the respect due to your-’
The winter wind howled, cutting off whatever Mr Ambrose was supposed to show respect to. It didn’t matter. I could have told the Marquess he wouldn’t do it. The only things Mr Rikkard Ambrose showed respect to were ones with the £-symbol on them.
Except maybe me.
Occasionally.
‘Dammit!’ Adaira whispered, glaring at the air, as if she could chase away the wind like that. ‘Quiet down, will you?’
Amazingly, it did. The howl subsided into a whistle, and then vanished altogether.
‘-going off to the colonies! Do you have any ideas of the stories that I heard about you? Wallowing in filth like a commoner, working for money with your bare hands-!’
‘You should try it sometime. It might do you a world of good.’
‘You will speak when you are spoken to, boy! I will not be lectured on life by an insolent lout whose breeding is no better than a primitive’s! You will keep your mouth shut and-’
Suddenly, Ambrose senior was silenced. And this time, it wasn’t the wind who was responsible. There was a thud, and a choking noise. Adaira gave me a wide-eyed, panicked look, which I’m sure I returned to her in equal measure.
‘No.’ Mr Ambrose’s voice was as cold and as deadly as an adder’s hiss. ‘You keep your mouth shut and listen, Father. If not for my work and my money made by my filthy hands, your precious family, your life in this pretentious palace would be nothing. Gone. Vanished in an instant. You had better keep a civil tongue in your head next time we meet because if you do not, I will consider all debts between us paid, and you will be finished!’
There was a pause.
‘You are an Ambrose!’ ground out the old man. ‘A man of noble blood! The son of a Marquess!’
‘Believe me, I know. I have only been trying to forget for the last ten years!’
‘Do you have no respect for what that means? What honour and duty rests upon your shoulders? You’ve soiled your family honour! Some of the things they say about you…the things you did out in the wilds…’
‘What did they say, Father? What did the great Marquess Ambrose have to hear about his Prodigal Son?’
‘Things too vile to repeat! I spoke to a man who saw you then. Saw what you were like. What you did…’
‘There, there, now, Father.’ Mr Ambrose said, deceptively soft. ‘It wasn’t as bad as people make it sound.’
‘It wasn’t?’