Indeed, at that moment a stiff woman in an even stiffer black dress held out her own besom and, with a flick of her wrist, caused a thin broom to appear from its interior. She marched over and began sweeping the shards of the marble bust with such vigor, the employee scuttled fearfully aside. As he watched her work, another witch slipped behind him and, whispering the incantation, directed his wallet to float from his jacket pocket into hers.
“Teamwork. How fascinating,” Cecilia murmured, as if she had just witnessed fairies dancing through the chamber. “What a shamethat, due to the feud, it would be more trouble than it’s worth to invite you to afternoon tea. Otherwise I’d certainly be eager to have a conversation with you about that device, the elevation of bicycles, and other interesting topics.”
“Alas, I myself am fated to be the next leader of the Wicken League,” Charlotte replied. “Therefore I ought not be talking to you even now. Otherwise I’d ask your opinion of Erasmus’sThe Praise of Folly,which you have been perusing. But I’m afraid I’m required to despise you. And as I see my Aunt Plim nearby, I must bid you good—”
She stopped, her heart thudding as she realized Miss Plim was in conversation with a certain tall, dark-haired gentleman whose briefcase she currently held in her hand. Even as she stared at them, Miss Plim’s mouth puckered with disapproval at something Captain O’Riley told her. She looked past him to Charlotte, and her brow furrowed above her little round spectacles.
“Oh dear,” Cecilia murmured. “I perceive you may be in trouble.”
“Not at all,” Charlotte replied with a perfectly calm facade. “That is my aunt’s regular expression of pleasure.”
“And that is Alex O’Riley she’s talking to. Just as I know you were on that bicycle yesterday, I also know he was the reason why.”
“Miss Bassingthwaite, I must venture to say you are far too clever for anyone else’s good.”
“Yes,” Cecilia replied complacently. “So I have been told before. In this case, it is merely that my housemaid happened to witness the scene. But I do understand about aunts. And I know Alex. He’s not malicious, but he is—well, a man. Goodness knows they cannot be relied upon for rational behavior.”
“That is true.” Charlotte hesitated, biting her lip. “I think I’d better...”
“Run away to America?” Cecilia suggested.
Miss Plim lifted two fingers and flicked them brusquely, summoning Charlotte to her side.
“Unfortunately,” Charlotte said with a sigh, “I doubt it would be far away enough.”
And tightening her grip on the briefcase, she went to face her fate.
4
our heroine is handsome, clever, and rich—however, so too is our hero—fire!—mr. darcy is not disturbing—charlotte flees—not exactly pemberley—the mystery of male anatomy—something in the air
Charlotte Pettifer had lived twenty-one years in the world with a great deal to distress and vex her, but Alex O’Riley was the worst of all. How vile of the man to make trouble simply because she absconded with his briefcase... and caused him to be assaulted... and, um, assaulted him herself. No doubt he thought he could get away with such behavior because he was a male with a big sword, several knives, and dark-rimmed blue eyes that could only be described as beauti—
Charlotte pressed her lips together in an effort to stop herself from gasping at her own train of thought. She could not afford to let Captain O’Riley rattle her again, especially not in sight of two dozen witches and pirates, primary amongst whom was her Aunt Judith. Getting rattled in front of Aunt Judith would lead to Disappointment. And every instinct in Charlotte’s body had been trained at an elite level against Disappointing Aunt Judith.
Besides, Charlotte was better than him. Smarter, as evidenced by thebriefcase in her possession. Tidier in dress and mind. He was not even wearing a tie today! Why, she could see part of his chest through the open upper buttons of his shirt... could glimpse dark ink thereon...
Goodness, but electrical lighting made a room hot!
Charlotte straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and marched up to Alex O’Riley (and, er, Miss Plim).
“Hello, Aunt,” she said in a tone that communicated no interest whatsoever in the pirate’s conversation—or the pirate himself, for that matter.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him smirk.
“Hello, Charlotte,” Miss Plim said. Her syllables tapped like a sharp fingernail against Charlotte’s composure. “Captain O’Riley has just been telling me the most interesting tale about you.”
“You shouldn’t listen to him, Aunt. He’s a pirate.”
“Nonsense, dear. I would not be caught dead talking to a pirate.”
“But Aunt, have you not noticed his earring? Boots? The extensive collection of weaponry about his person?”
Miss Plim sniffed. “A lady does not look at a man’s person, Charlotte. Besides, if he is a pirate, which I doubt, I’m sure he can’t help it.”
Charlotte’s eyes slipped momentarily out of focus as she tried to process this. Perhaps Miss Plim equated piracy to an unfortunate infectious disease? Charlotte could certainly agree with her there. “In any case, whatever he told you is a lie.”
“I see.” Miss Plim glanced at Alex. He shrugged, and Charlotte knew if she looked upon his face she would find a crooked smile there. Just as well she had no intention of looking. She would rather perish than do so!
