July 12, 1840

"Push! Come Lilly, you can do it, one more push!" The midwife yelled at Lilly encouragingly from the other end of the bed. The hand clutching hers tightened around the fingers as she screamed her throat raw.

The tension around her lower abdomen lessened, and everyone could hear the wailing of a baby in the room. Lilly gasped, instinctively reaching for her child. The midwife's face swam into view, a wide grin on her face as she handed the bundle of cloth to the new mother.

Lilly gasped, tears leaking from her brown irises as she beheld the face of her first born. It was a boy, with pink, wet wrinkled skin. His mouth was opened in an endless wail, his voice already loud and powerful like his father's. As soon as his mother's gentle arms encircled him however, his mouth snapped close. His eyes, shut until now opened, and Lilly gasped. They were a clear, blue green color, so much like Rikkard Ambrose's. Seeing the thick wisps of black hair upon his head, Lilly knew he'd look remarkably similar to the man.

She raised her tearful eyes to James Carter's, her husband. They were twinkling with a new light; tenderness and love, maybe? His hand came down to rest gently in her forehead, sweeping back the sweaty strands of hair from it. His fingers, so large in comparison to that of her child, hovered delicately over the boy. With a nod from her, James lowered his fingers, sweeping down the velvety face of the boy.

"What do you want to name him?" James queried, allowing her, the rightful parent, to choose. But Lilly could not, finding it difficult to find a name that suited him. Already, her love for him swelled in her heart, making her light headed and dizzy. Also, giving birth had taken it's toll on her. Her body and mind were weary, and only the warmth of the bundle in her arms kept her awake. She knew what she wanted to name the child however- but knew that it would be a blow to James' pride.

Nine months ago, on the night she was married, James had left her. He hadn't come back for two days. But he came back. Over the past few months, he'd come to terms with Lilly's digressions, and most importantly, kept her secret. His eyes, searching hers intently, knew what she wanted to name her son. It hurt, yes, but this would make her happy. "Rikkard," He whispered, so softly that the maids and the midwife in the room could not hear. "Rikkard Carter."

Lilly, so surprised was she at his suggestion, sobbed all over again. She buried her face into the blankets surrounding her son, breathing in his warm, milky scent. She cried for the kindness that James was showing her, at the fact that she was the mother of such a perfect boy, and... And the father was not here. No, he was hundreds of miles away, unknowing that he had just become a father mere minutes ago.

"Y-yes. Ye..s James tha-thank you." Hiccuping slightly, she raised her eyes to his dark brown ones. Raising a hand, she pulled him down for a kiss.

***

He stared up at Empire House, the place where he'd worked for so long. It seemed different now, darker. He didn't want to go inside, he realized. It was no longer a place where he felt safe and... At home.

'Rikkard! Stop wasting time! You need to get back to your mother tomorrow!'

Moving his legs, he marched up the steps and swung the doors open. The chatter that had been echoing throughout the hall abruptly ceased as he entered. His employees looked at their fearsome employer, frozen, expecting him to explode into an icy maelstrom. Rikkard ignored them and continued on, walking up the steps as fast as he could. Barely a minute later, he was on the eighth floor.

Mr. Stone, who'd been leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk fell over. The clatter of the chair and his grunt of pain echoed in the otherwise empty lobby. Rikkard glared angrily at his employee. "Mr. Stone! Are you aware that shoes contain dirt and should not be placed upon desks? Any damage to the desk or the chair shall be deducted from your wages!" Mr. Stone bowed low and muttered some apologies.

Rikkard continued to his office. It was cold in here, after being uninhabited for so long. His eyes swept across the room. Good, no one had been in here. He walked to the door separating his office from hers. He stopped, his hand in the door knob. 'Get on with it! There's no use dwelling on the past!'

He swung the door open, and blast of frigid London air hit him. It was in July, yes, but London still had cool weather. His eyes found the open window, and he went over, to close it. However, as his eyes glanced across the street, they came to a stop on a woman. A woman, who looked remarkably similar to that of his secretary. He poked his head out of the window, watching, trying to discern if it was indeed her. 'No, it can't be her. The dress is too fancy for her liking. Her hair is pulled into a braid, she would never do that.' With a sigh, he pulled the window shut and turned around, coming face to face with the very woman he'd come to look for.

"Good morning, sir! Why are you in here?" She was clad in her uncle's old clothes, messy brown hair pulled into her hat. Rikkard growled, shaking his head and destroying the mirage over his eyes. He hated coming back here now, her face and figure haunted him at every second. At least, when he was out of London, his mind could rest during the day.

He stomped to the cabinets, rummaging through them for the files he needed this month. Then, he went to the safe for the heavier things. Karim went every two weeks, but sometimes he forgot to bring a file back, or he couldn't find it. Though Karim was an able body guard, he found it hard to understand his filing system, unlike a certain female secretary of his. As he returned to his main office, the flashbacks of their last night started again.

Rikkard pushed her up against the wall, and her legs automatically came around his waist. His lips met hers, trailing down her neck. Her moans had aroused him, throwing all his sense out the window. He walked to his secret room, throwing Lillian down onto his bed. She moved her head, looking up at him through her sultry, dark eyes. Her mouth was open, inviting him in. She was so delicate and soft, but he knew with one look this woman could tear him down and undo him. 

"STOP IT!" His yell echoed throughout the room as he chucked his chair across the room. It impacted against the stone wall and splintered into pieces. He collapsed onto the desk, rubbing his eyes as if to erase the images from his mind. However, it was fruitless, he knew that her beautiful face would stay with him forever. 

Mr. Stone ran in, then skidded to a stop as he caught sight of his employer. Mr. Ambrose was leaning heavily on his desk, one arm supporting him while the other rubbed at his eyes. When he met his dark eyes, Mr. Stone knew immediately that this man was breaking down. He had no idea why he did what he did. Maybe it was because he was a man too, and knew what he was feeling. 'If he wasn't mistaken,' Mr. Stone thought, 'Mr. Ambrose has met a woman, and she's driving him mad.' 

"Sir?" Mr. Stone's hesitant voice broke him out of his self pitying reverie. 

"What?" His voice cracked on the last syllable. 

"I-I just thought maybe you could use my advice on-on something." Seeing as Mr. Ambrose was silent, Mr. Stone continued. "I may be mistaken but... It seems to me as though you've met a woman, at last." 

"Yes," Mr. Ambrose rasped.  'Wait! What are you doing?'  Shut up! "I have, and she won't leave my thoughts, however hard I try to push her out." At this, Mr. Stone cracked a small smile. So Mr. Ambrose had feelings after all! 

Mr. Ambrose's glare intensified, so Mr. Stone continued, "I suggest, sir, that if she's this important to you, you should propose, before it's too late. Women like that come once in a man's lifetime, and the man should make her his before someone else does. Good luck to you, sir." 

As Mr. Stone walked out the door, Mr. Ambrose said, "Mr. Stone! How do you know this?" 

Mr. Stone paused, and with a small smile, said, "I myself have found one of these women, sir. She's my wife now, and I couldn't be happier." He left, shutting the door behind him. 

As Mr. Ambrose left Empire House, his mind was somewhere else. However, he didn't forget to reprimand his employees and left with a promise of firing them if he ever caught them talking again. "Happier." Mr. Stone's voice echoed in his mind. "I couldn't be happier." Getting into his chaise, Mr. Ambrose thumped his cane on the roof and yelled at the driver to take him to St. James Square. (Is this where Lilly lives? If not, please let me know!) 

He stayed in his coach, watching Lilly's house. Light flooded from the windows, and he distinctly heard the shrill voice of the Aunt as the family had dinner. A feeling tugged him towards the house, something that said Lillian was close. He ignored it though, he had to get back to his ailing mother. The backdoor opened, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Lilly?" He murmured, leaning forward to move the curtain of the small window aside. However, as the moonlight hit the woman's blonde hair, Mr. Ambrose knew that this was Ella Linton, Lilly's favorite sister. 

"Driver! Let's go!" The chaise rolled back along the cobblestone streets of London. A glint of light caught his eye, and Mr. Ambrose leaped out of the chaise, stumbling just a bit. "Hey! Mr. Ambrose!" Snapping at the driver to wait, Mr. Ambrose crossed the street to the jewelry store. 

He stared at the ring in shop window. His distorted reflection cast a dark shadow on it, but it still shimmered with a gentle light. The ring itself was made of sterling silver wrought into a vine shape. Atop the ring wasn't a diamond, no, it was a rose. A rose made out of rose quartz. It was beautiful, and stood out from the rest of the other rings in the display case. Something about it's beauty reminded him of Lilly's, how she stood out from the rest of the women out there. Yes, she was just as beautiful, and even more in his eyes, but it was her personality that endeared him. 

Mr. Ambrose bought the ring, encased in a red velvet box. He stared at the ring now, as he made his way back to his childhood home and his family. He loved his mother, which was the only reason why he was now going back, instead of bursting into the Linton household to demand Lilly's hand. This ring was his promise to himself. He knew now that he couldn't be without her. He wasn't Rikkard Ambrose anymore, without Lillian Linton. He would make her his, before any others could. As soon as the five years had passed, he would come back. To London, to Lillian. That was his promise. 

*** 

Hi. Are you crying yet? I know I am.