“God knows, Miss Bassingthwaite. I invite you to call me Ned. We are surely well enough acquainted by now.”
“I don’t know...”
He turned, catching her by the arm, smiling at her with the full power of his charm. “Madam—my dear—Cecilia—”
“Miss Bassingthwaite.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” She tugged her arm from his grip. “Or nothing at all, if you please, for we must end our association today. I will be attending to the rescue of my aunt and her friends, and you—well, that is not my business.”
“But it is,” he said, following her as she began to stride across the field in the direction the houses had flown. “The Queen herself ordered me to protect you—”
“Protect me,” she repeated dubiously, not looking back.
“Well, her exact word might have beenneutralized, but—”
Cecilia frowned sidelong at him. “Neutralized? Why? What have I done to offend her? Apart from rob some of her institutions, but that is hardly a capital offense.”
“She and her advisers fear you may become like your father, and it was deemed prudent to forestall that by, um, disempowering you.”
A sudden thought burned through her mind: Was this also whyshe’d not been given a seat at the senior table? Was the Wisteria Society keeping her disempowered?
“I see,” she said coldly, both to Ned and to the absent pirate women. Her stomach lurched, but she simply walked faster, as if she could outrace the sick feeling. Ned hurried to keep up.
“But you are nothing like your father, Sissy, and so you need protecting, not neutralizing. Please just let me take you to Windsor, where you will be safe.”
“For a secret service agent, you don’t listen very well,” she said. “Once again, my name is Miss Bassingthwaite. I am not, and never will be, Sissy. And I have no interest in being safe. Wait!” She stopped abruptly, and hope lit Ned’s countenance. But she only turned and began walking back. “I forgot my hat.”
“Never mind your hat.” He followed her with exasperation. “You will come with me.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
He stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop, and pointed his gun once again at her face. Instantly Cecilia drew her own gun and held it in parallel to his.
“I cannot leave my aunt in Morvath’s clutches. He has caused her to suffer enough for one lifetime.”
“I understand. But walking into Northangerland Abbey alone is insane.”
“It was my”—she paused to shuffle away from the dueling couple, who were dancing around each other, swords clashing—“my childhood home. I know all the secret doors and passageways.”
“And so does Morvath. You will be captured within—Oply, lift your hand more—within minutes. The Queen will send a squad—”
“And you know how that will end. But one person, trained in stealth, could slip in and do all kinds of damage before she was noticed. Tom, be careful not to step on my hat.”
“If I take you to Windsor—”
“I will escape.”
“Yes, you undoubtedly will. Very well, madam, I shall take you to Lady Armitage instead.”
Cecilia elevated one eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”
They lifted their guns to the sky as Constantinopla shoved Tom through the space between them. The boy staggered but regained his balance and rushed back to re-engage the fight. Cecilia and Ned aimed their guns once more at each other’s faces.
