“There’s no need to be quite so dramatic.”
Cecilia sighed. Aggravation clenched around her—and yet it felt almost pleasant, a sense of relief. She was not alone in the world after all.
Flicking her hat to unsheath the blades in its brim, she spun on her heel—only to find a pistol pointed at her. Behind it, Captain Lightbourne smiled affably. He reached out with his free hand, took her hat, and tossed it as far as a disk of straw decorated with ribbons and a feather would go—which is to say, about one and a half feet, before boomeranging back so that he had to step aside before its blades sliced him.
“We meet again, Miss Bassingthwaite.”
“Captain Lightbourne,” Cecilia replied. “I seem to have been mistaken in my impression that you serve Lady Armitage. Clearly you are Captain Morvath’s lackey.”
“Not at all.”
Cecilia frowned. “What do you mean, sir? Which of those are you not?”
“Both.”
Her frown deepened. “You are being most annoyingly ungrammatical. And I have a ladies’ society to rescue. So if you will excuse me—”
She went to turn but he cocked the hammer of his gun, and she froze.
“You wouldn’t shoot me.”
His smile tilted. “I am employed to assassinate you, madam.”
“And yet you have proven slow to do so.”
“That is because I am employed to protect you.”
For the first time in her life, Cecilia went so far as to scowl. “You are a very aggravating man.”
“Thank you. I do my best under difficult circumstances. It’s an honor to have provoked your anger, although I’m still hoping to make you smile.”
“I do not smile at murderers.”
“But I haven’t murdered anyone, Miss Bassingthwaite.”
“So my aunt was correct in her evaluation of your skill, or rather lack thereof.”
His own smile tilted in the other direction, then collapsed completely. “No. That is, I mean to say—I could have murdered someone, had I chosen to do so. Just as I could murder you right now.”
“Except you won’t. Kindly put down the gun and let me be on my way.”
“I can’t do that. For you see, madam, regardless of how I was employed, my real mission is to keep you from your father. I see in your eye a determination to head in his direction so as to rescue the Wisteria Society, and I am obliged to stop you.”
“Why?” Cecilia almost put her hands on her hips before recollecting her dignity. “Exactly who are you?”
He shrugged. “It depends on whom you ask. To Lady Armitage, I am Eduardo de Luca, Italian mercenary, hired to kill the beautiful ward of her archnemesis. To Captain Morvath, I am Edward Lightbourne, a pirate just wanting new premises and willing to do whatever it takes to get them. Which means stealing houses and returning Morvath’s long-lost daughter safely to his care. (This is where you shudder with fear.)”
“I am not frightened, Mr. Lightbourne.”
“Captain.”
“So you say.”
“But it’s true. For I am also known to Her Majesty as Ned Smith, a captain of the royal secret service, charged among other things with keeping Miss Cecilia Morvath out of her father’s hands. And I am—”
“You!” came a shout.
Ned sighed. Grabbing Cecilia by the arm, he pulled her againsthim and held the gun to her temple, as Constantinopla and Tom came racing across the field.
