“Lady Armitage has the last remaining Society battlehouse,” Ned explained. “It’s fully equipped with cannons and a well-stocked armory, and I know where to find it. We can steal it, use it as a base.”
“What about Starkthorn Castle?”
“Morvath stole its entire load of weapons. It’s nothing now but a big stone house with emptied attics and bored ghosts.”
“Oh.” Her expression wilted.
“I’m sorry, I know it was your maternal family home.”
“Actually I’ve never set foot there. I was only thinking of the loss of all that cannon.”
“I do have a friend who would loan me his house, but there’s no time to track him down. Lady Armitage is our only resource.”
“So you will help me?”
He shrugged. “You’re giving me no other choice. I’m honor-bound by royal order to keep you safe. Or, you know, kill you, but I hope it doesn’t come to that, Sissy.”
“Cecilia. I mean, Miss Bassingthwaite. Where is Lady Armitage located? We have no time to lose.”
“Lyme Regis. I’ll steal a carriage; we can be there tomorrow.”
“No, I’ll steal a carriage.”
“As you wish.”
They stared at each other for a moment longer, then withdrew their guns, holstering them. Ned stepped into the duel, taking the sword from Constantinopla’s hand.
“Watch,” he said to her. “Right hand up, left foot back, and so—” He thrust the sword to block Tom’s, then gave a sharp twist, and Tom stumbled back as his sword was jolted from his grip. It landed on Cecilia’s hat, which exploded in a puff of smoke and feathers.
Everyone stared at it.
“Oh dear,” Constantinopla said after a shocked moment. “What will you do, Cecilia? You’re now exposed to the Great Peril.”
“I’ll protect her from it,” Ned said promptly.
Constantinopla gave him a bewildered look. “From the sun?”
“I—er— Listen, no peril is greater now than Captain Morvath, who will destroy the very foundation of our peaceful civilization if we don’t take quick action!”
“Maybe,” Constantinopla said, “but have you ever tried to get rid of freckles? Not all the lemon juice and bicarbonate in the world is effective.”
Ned blinked. He glanced at Tom Eames, who shrugged helplessly, and then at Cecilia, who stood impassive, emblazoned by the lowering light. Her hair was only barely secured in its braided crown, long, fine strands falling over her shoulders; her face gleamed like polished, unfreckled marble. Suddenly, Ned realized he was the one in peril. He was “a young man and his love lay not truly in his heart but in his eyes”— er, no, the other way around. Then Cecilia’s impassivity slipped a little into suspiciousness as she looked back at him, and he realized he was staring.
“Right,” he said, raising his hand to brush back his hair—unfortunately, the hand that was holding Constantinopla’s sword,thereby nearly eviscerating Tom. “For God’s sake, boy, be more careful where you stand. We shall get on our way. Cecilia, you and I will find a carriage. These two—”
“She can’t go off with you unless she has a chaperone,” Constantinopla interjected.
“Nonsense,” Ned replied. “I am an agent of Her Majesty the Queen. I have the highest morals. She will be entirely safe.”
“Regardless, I must accompany her, for the sake of appearances.”
Ned sighed. “Now, see here, Oply, you are too young for battle. Take lodgings in the village, and I’ll send someone to fetch you.”
“I’m not too young! I’m only three years below Cecilia.” (Tom groaned at this reminder.) “Besides, I’ve trained all my life!”
“I know, I’ve seen what you can do. You’re going to make a fine pirate one day. But not this day.”
“This is discrimination due to my age!”
