“What, even in the dark of a broom closet? Er, for example.”
“Light was coming in through the crack at the bottom of the door.”
“And a gentleman is adept at translating a lady’s eyes, is he?”
“A gentleman of experience is, yes.”
“Experience but no”—she surveyed the length of his body—“house.”
The signor bristled. “I can assure you, madam, that my real estate is of substantial—”
“Excuse me,” Lady Armitage said before this conversation became too titillating even for her. “Why is Cecilia Bassingthwaite standing in my drawing room?”
“You told me to bring you her finger,” Signor de Luca replied.
“Yes, but not attached to the rest of her person!”
“Captain Lightbourne has difficulty understanding what a lady tells him,” Cecilia explained, pouring tea into three delicate cups. “Tells him with words, that is, not some supposed look she gives when she has a headache and did not sleep well.”
“It’s a common fault in men,” Lady Armitage said. She silently figured what angle the knife might take between her wrist and Signor de Luca’s heart. “Modern patriarchy shows a shameful lack of respect toward women.”
Cecilia nodded. “Only last month I robbed a man and tied him to his horse, and he did not bid me good afternoon as I sent him on his way.”
“Shocking! I can’t tell you how many men have insulted me over the years.” (Actually, it was seventeen, but she only knew this because she kept her apothecary receipts.)
“What we need is female suffrage,” Cecilia opined as she laid lemon slices, cut into the shape of flowers, atop the tea.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Lady Armitage argued. “We suffer enough as it is.”
“I meant voting rights for women, Aunty,” Cecilia explained. “Too many men believe they rule the world.”
“I think—” Signor de Luca began, but the women turned their gazes like weapons upon him, and he took a hasty, instinctive step back. “Never mind.”
“Take this fellow, for example,” Lady Armitage said, tipping her head toward Signor de Luca. “Can’t even rob a house properly. Whereas if you or your dear, blighted Aunt Darlington were in charge, it would be halfway out of town by now, with me hanging beneath from my laces.”
“I have your key!” Signor de Luca reminded her, holding it up as proof.
She grinned. “You haveakey, Signor.”
“I—what?”
“That is the key to the place where my actual key is kept.”
He narrowed his eyes at her menacingly. “And where is that, madam?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No,” Cecilia said, walking over to hand him a teacup. “You really don’t.”
“I—I demand—”
“Besides,” Cecilia continued, returning to the tray. “Aunty Army will help us once she hears what has happened.”
“Aunty Army?” Signor de Luca stared at her incredulously. “This is the woman who paid me to kill you.”
“I’m sure Cecilia isn’t offended by a little thing like that,” Lady Armitage said.
