Cecilia finally steadied herself, recollecting her inner resolve. “I’m sorry,” she told Ned whilst smoothing her dress, straightening her gloves. “I do thank you for the kind offer and, er, the generous expression of your ardor, but I can’t marry you, Captain, regardless of myheart’s conviction. As we previously discussed, I am bound in duty to my aunt.”
“Miss Darlington?” the Queen called.
“Huh? What’s that?” Miss Darlington turned from smiling at Jacobsen, her eyes blinking, her expression trying to settle into seriousness. “Did someone want me?”
The entire company laughed. Ned holstered his gun at the back of his waistband and smiled down at Cecilia’s flushing face until she sighed.
“It’s not amusing,” she said. “I am trying to do the right thing.”
“Oh good heavens!” Miss Darlington threw up her hands impatiently. (Countess Feodora’s pearl ring slipped from her glove and rolled across the floor.) “This has gone far enough! Did I not raise you to be a proper scoundrel, Cecilia? Have you not been educated in the correct ways of ladylike piratism? Why are you eventhinkingof trying to do the right thing?”
Cecilia blinked, confounded. “I—er—”
“Run away with the boy. Abandon your duties. Live in sin. Or else your bad name will be utterly redeemed.”
“But—” Cecilia began.
“So long as you promise to drink your daily tonic, wear a scarf in all weather, and not go after the Bevelrede fortune, which I have my eye on—”
“What?!” shouted an alarmed Count Bevelrede from within the crowd.
“—I will give you my blessing for an elopement. But of course it’s up to you.”
Cecilia frowned. What would a heroine do in this moment? How might she best fit herself to this evolution of events?
“Then again,” Olivia said momentously, and Cecilia pivotedtoward her. “If you stay, we do have a seat for you at our senior table. Almost everyone’s agreed. You’ve proven yourself to be a good girl, and we’re confident you will obey our laws. Congratulations!”
Cecilia blinked, swaying slightly in astonishment. Ten years of dreaming rushed into her throat, and she drew a breath to answer—
“Wait!”
The Queen had spoken. Everyone turned to stare at her in silent anticipation. She held her hand raised and head slightly tilted as if listening. “It will be midnight in a minute,” she said. “Now is your magical moment, Miss Bassingthwaite. The decision is yours. Will you run away and be a wild woman, or will you stay and dance with the prince? We have several here for you to choose from.”
Cecilia looked at Miss Darlington. The old lady scowled, and Cecilia felt her heart leap with love and gratitude. “Hiawatha—” she tried to say, but Miss Darlington waved a disdainful hand.
“Was boring me horribly. Those Americans have no idea how to be swashbuckling. I recall that Mr. Jacobsen here used to read aloud to me from the works of Byron.”
Queen Victoria and several nearby ladies sighed dreamily.
“I shall read from them again every day, my dear Jemima,” Jacobsen declared. “And lay your feet in my hands every night.”
“How romantic,” murmured the ladies in the crowd.
“Is that a metaphor?” asked the gentlemen in the crowd.
Ned leaned forward to whisper smilingly to Cecilia, “It appears you have been made redundant.”
Cecilia frowned. “I could choose the seat at the senior table.”
“That is one possibility,” he agreed.
“I could steal my own house, live alone.”
“You could.”
“Be independent.”
“Yes.”
