Charlotte laughed a little at this. Bixby stared ahead expressionlessly.
After a small meal comprising only toast and eggs, baked beans, buttered muffins, fried tomatoes, and kippers, Alex took up the newspapers while Charlotte set about making the beds. She had got as far as gathering the sheets from the floor when Alex’s sudden curse word stopped her.
“What’s wrong?”
When Alex did not reply, so intent was he on reading the front-page article, Bixby supplied an explanation.
“I suspect the captain has just learned that Miss Charlotte Pettifer of Mayfair has been kidnapped by the dread pirate Rotten O’Riley.”
Charlotte stared at the butler. “Kidnapped? I? Outrageous!” She folded a sheet in half and flapped it so briskly it made a loud cracking sound. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alex flinch. “Next they will be describing me as—”
“ ‘An innocent damsel of unimpeachable reputation,’ ” Alex read aloud from the newspaper.
“Confound it!” Charlotte exclaimed. “How am I supposed to blackmail or swindle anyone from here on? They will just laugh at me!”
“Nice picture of you, though,” Alex said.
“Huh.” Charlotte folded the sheet again—at least if you understandfoldas meaningbashed together in a fervent motion that created its own tiny cyclone—and the whole thing slid into disarray. Bixby, stepping over, quietly took one edge and moved back, separating the corners at his end. Charlotte copied him.
“I wonder how they got the information,” Alex mused, drinking coffee as he read.
“It was probably my cousin Eugenia,” Charlotte said, stepping toward Bixby so their sheet edges met. He took the whole thing, made a few quick maneuvers, and handed her back an immaculate rectangle of linen along with a brief, rare smile that seemed to communicate reassurance, kindness, and an admonishment to hereafter leave sheet folding to the professionals. The smile disappeared as soon as Charlotte gave her own in return.
“You think your cousin would betray you to such a degree?” Alex was remarkably astonished for a man who had spent his life amongst pirates.
“Oh yes,” Charlotte said as she set down the sheet. Snatching a pillow, she started yanking the cover from it. “Eugenia has always hated me for having been prophesized as Beryl Black’s true heir before she could be. Besides, she pours the milk into the bowl before the cereal. And calls me Char. There’s no end to her villainy.” She plumped the pillow so hard Bixby winced.
“Maybe you should try to calm down,” Alex suggested.
“I am calm.” The pillow exploded in a cloud of goose feathers.
Alex and Bixby exchanged a wordless glance. Bixby was just stepping forward to take what remained of the pillow from her grasp when a knock came upon the door. Before Charlotte even saw them move, both pirate and butler had guns in hands. Without a word, Bixby hurried over to stand by the door while Alex pressed against the wall so as to peer carefully out the window. They glanced at each other again; Alex made some hand gestures.
“Who is it?” he called out.
“Only the housekeeper,” answered a high-pitched voice. “I have fresh towels for you.”
Alex cursed under his breath. Holstering the gun, he pulled on his coat, slung his sword belt over one shoulder, then took Charlotte by the arm and tugged her toward the window.
“I hope you were right about being able to climb down a building.”
Charlotte frowned. “It’s just the housekeeper bringing towels.”
“Immediately after breakfast, in an English pub?” Alex snorted with bleak humor.
“But—” Charlotte protested.
“There are policemen on the other side of that door,” Alex whispered fiercely. “The innkeeper must have seen the newspaper and tipped them off.”
“Then we must tidy the room before we leave,” Charlotte said, trying to pull out of his grip. “Imagine what they will think!”
“I’d rather imagine it than have them tell me while taking me to prison.” He threw an intense look at Bixby, who nodded in response. Apparently they had been in this situation often enough to need no words. Alex stepped onto a chair as if it were a stair, and then onto the breakfast table, his boots smashing plates and tea cups. Charlotte would have gasped in horror were she not distracted by being hauled bodily up to join him. She carefully nudged a teapot aside as Alex unlatched the window and flung it open.
He took her hand and looked her coolly in the eye, and her stomach flipped with what felt awkwardly like lust and trepidation. “Bixby will divert them,” he said, “then bring the house round. But we have to go now.”
Together, they looked out the window. Twenty feet below lay a paved courtyard that glinted like bared teeth in the morning light.
Alex shrugged casually. “We can jump that.”
