‘Oh. That kind.’
‘And now, it appears, Britain is getting involved. Army headquarters has decided to send a detachment to South America to help defeat the Biancos. And they want me to head a task force to spy out enemy positions and attack key targets behind the lines. Isn’t that wonderful?’
I considered my answer for a moment. ‘Um…to be honest, it sounds rather dangerous to me.’
‘Yes!’ He clapped his hands, like an excited schoolboy who had just found out he was going on a trip abroad with his favourite uncle. ‘Plenty of adventure, lots of opportunities to fight for Queen and country and prove myself. With any luck, this could make my career.’
‘Or break your neck.’
But Captain Carter wasn’t listening to me. He was much too busy tugging on the speck of beard on his chin, going aloud through a mental list of things he’d need for a lengthy journey into the jungle.
‘Captain? Captain Carter, are you in there? Anyone at home?’
‘…rope, twine, wax-coated matches, a good horse used to uneven ground…’
Men! I snorted. Even the best of them had a little loony spot in their brains stamped ‘Caution! Masculinity! Do not enter!’ How could anyone be excited about going to war? I had seen enough bloodshed myself to know that I never wanted to see what real war looked like. Skimming by its edges during my adventures with Mr Ambrose had been more than enough.
I froze.
Mr Ambrose?
No. No, it couldn’t be.
‘…I’ll ask Her Ladyship to lend me a horse. If I change horses regularly, I can be in Dover in a week, and-’
‘Captain?’
‘-should be no problem getting all necessary supplies there. Plenty of shops with-’
‘Captain!’
Blinking, the captain resurfaced from his planning. ‘Yes, Miss Linton?’
‘Tell me, is it usual for officers to be called in from so far away when, surely, there are troops stationed closer at hand?’
‘No. It’s quite out of the ordinary. But General Graham apparently wanted me specifically for this mission.’ He grinned broadly. ‘Do you know what that means?’
Oh, I have an idea…
‘Someone high up is pulling strings. Whoever it is, he must really be impressed with me.’
You can say that again. Oh, when I get my hands on him…!
But no. He wouldn’t, would he? No one could be that cold and calculating?
Really? Think about that sentence again, and then think about Mr Rikkard Ambrose.
Blast.
‘Tell me,’ I said to the captain, trying to keep my voice light and only mildly interested, ‘did you expect this promotion?’
He shook his head, grinning a broad, boyish grin. ‘No. I had no idea. Then, this morning, suddenly this letter arrives, not even a day old. Whoever pulled the strings to get it done must want me down there badly, and he has to be pretty powerful.’
Oh
yes, he is.
How had he done this? How? It was the British Army, for God’s sake! The bloody British Army! He didn’t have command over that, too, did he?