Lord Day and Lady Night

03. Present

"One wrong move," Amy hissed, "and I'll fire."

The snobby bastard stiffened and nodded. Apparently, he was going to comply.

Good. Excellent, in fact. Amy wasn't an expert sharpshooter, but even she was fairly certain it would prove rather difficult to shoot the bugger with the bronze candle stick she was currently pressing into his back.

Amy resisted the urge to wipe her sweaty hands on her dress. Bloody, stinking hell! This wasn't going exactly as she'd planned! He was going to take her to his sister's? His sister's? This had to be a trap! It had to be!

"Go!" She growled. "And don't ye dare scream!"

The miserable pervert gave a dismissive sound. "I am a man. I don't scream."

"Wanna bet?" She jabbed the candlestick into his back. "Move!"

Candlestick cocked and ready to fire, Amy manoeuvred him up the stairs. She felt like a little duckling trying to push a proud mustang, but she didn't let that deter her. Not for a moment!

Flo's counting on me!

"My staff is upstairs!" the miserable excuse for a man hissed. "What am I supposed to tell them?"

"Don't ye worry." Amy patted his shoulder with her free hand. "I've met yer staff. They're quite nice."

"You've what?"

Before she got a chance to answer, they stepped out into the corridor. Griffiths, the butler, and a well-padded, middle-aged woman with frizzy grey hair were peeking out of the kitchen, watching them. Frowning, Prince Pervert leaned back towards her, lowering his voice.

"They...they're smiling. Why are they smiling?"

"Don't ask me. They're yer staff."

"My Lord!" The plump woman, probably the cook to judge by her apron, clapped her hands. "What a lovely girl!"

Amy slid her arm a little bit farther around the man's back to make sure all of the candlestick was hidden, and jammed the thing harder into his ribs.

"Ehem." Prince Pervert cleared his throat. "Y-yes, she is, is she not?"

"Smile," Amy hissed out of the corner of her mouth. "Smile wide!"

He contorted his face, showing his teeth.

The middle-aged woman bustled forward. More servants started peeking out of other doors, curiosity written clearly on their faces. "Ye should 'ave told me that ye 'ave a guest, and I'd 'ave prepared somethin' special! Won't ye introduce us?"

"Of course. Ehem. This is...is..."

"Amy." Beaming, Amy curtsied, making the cook blush. Amy was beginning to think the poor woman and the butler had no idea what sort of monster they served. She wished she could warn this nice lady, who clearly didn't expect such friendly treatment from her master's "guest." "Pleased to meet ye."

"Oh my!" Quickly, the cook sank into a wobbling curtsy. "Mrs Morris! At your service, Miss."

"At her service?" His Lordship demanded, sounding very lordly. He shut up after another jab with the candlestick.

"Certainly, Your Lordship." The old butler stepped forward, beaming. "Anything the young Miss demands, she shall get."

"Oh. She shall, shall she?"

"If I may be so bold, where are da two of ye goin'?" Mrs Morris enquired, eyes shining. She clearly had noticed the way Amy's arm was casually slung around her master's back.