“Man and wife.”
Charlotte and Alex staggered to a halt. Lady Armitage, looking up from gazing with adoration at her new ball and chain (and the young man attached to it), smiled cheerfully and waved at them. Dressed in mauve, and with lilies overflowing her grasp, she looked as happy as any woman observed in the middle of her favorite hobby.
Tom had a more furious response, but since he was gagged it came out as mere annoyance.
“I see you found Kitty,” Lady Armitage said through her smile.
“Kitty?” Charlotte asked, bemused.
Lady Armitage twirled a finger at the gun Alex was aiming toward her.
“You name your gun?” At that moment, Charlotte realized Miss Dearlove had been right: piratesweremad. “Well, hand over my amulet or else Kitty will be shooting you.”
“And Tom,” Alex added. “Er, that is, Kitty won’t be shooting Tom; what I meant—”
“Now see here!” This from the vicar—Lady Armitage showing no concern at the choice of being robbed or shot. “You cannot interrupt a sacred moment like this!” He lifted a hand to gesticulate, and the chain binding him to a table leg rattled obtrusively. Candles set upon the table trembled, and a vase of lilies threatened to topple. But the vicar did not notice. “Have some respect for true love!”
Alex stared at him in amazement. Charlotte, however, only had eyes for the amulet. “Give it to me, madam,” she said, striding forward and presenting her hand, palm up, for delivery.
“Never!” Lady Armitage avowed.
Charlotte’s patience, driven to its limit, and smelling coffee somewhere in the room, abruptly snapped.“Proximare!”she incantated. The amulet rose on its chain, straining toward her.
“Be careful,” Alex said, but it was too late. Magic stretched throughher body, pressing against bones and muscles. She felt her feet rise off the floor. The amulet flew violently to her.
Unfortunately, Lady Armitage came with it.
The two women crashed. Lilies scattered everywhere. Candles toppled from a nearby table, and the table went too, cloth, tea service, and all. Charlotte fell backward, the pirate atop her, and as they smacked against the floor she immediately rolled over to exchange their positions. But she had not factored in Lady Armitage’s hooped petticoat. Once it started rolling, it did not stop. The women flipped over each other several times before being halted by a wall. Immediately, Charlotte began pulling at the amulet, and Lady Armitage began pulling at Charlotte’s hair, and the only thing that prevented it from being a catfight was that Alex could not see a clear enough shot to fire Kitty.
Behind them, a candle flame got about its business with quiet dignity, burning a hole through the fallen tablecloth to the carpet beneath. Several new flames leaped up, spreading across the floor. Vicar Dickersley, who had collapsed to his knees as the table fell, began whimpering as he tried to clamber up and away. He liked to consider himself a religious man (always a bonus in his job), but really, martyrdom by fire would be the final straw today.
“Free Tom!” Charlotte shouted to Alex. Granted, it sounded more likefee om,since Lady Armitage was smacking a hand against her mouth, but Alex understood. He quickly evaluated the situation and decided she did not need his help. Holstering Kitty, he hurried over to the captive groom and used Lady Armitage’s pen knife to slice through the wrist ties. At once, Tom pulled the gag from his mouth and gasped a desperate breath.
“She put the key to our chains in her bodice!”
Alex glanced at Lady Armitage. Charlotte was sitting atop her, tugging furiously at the amulet while Lady Armitage attempted tobreak her wrists. Charlotte’s hair had come free of its bindings and tumbled everywhere; Lady Armitage’s had shattered a fallen teacup. As Alex watched, the pirate snatched a porcelain shard and began using it to saw at a long strand of Charlotte’s hair. He cringed, for even as a male he recognized the battle was about to explode. There was certainly no acquiring a key under those circumstances.
Suddenly, the candle’s fire, having got all its notes together, and with a deep, excited breath, stepped forth onto the stage—or, more precisely, a velvet sofa that was covered in shawls and cushions. With an ironically chilling rush of sound, the whole thing went up in flames.
Vicar Dickersley swooned. Tom grasped the chain attaching him to a table, tugging on it as if that could in any way help. Charlotte and Lady Armitage had resorted to slapping each other’s hands wildly. Two footmen rushed into the room—and as Alex pulled the chisel from his boot and threw it at them, rushed right back out again. They slammed the door hard behind them. A tall standing candelabra shook at the reverberations, then toppled against some drapes, which promptly caught alight.
Alex looked around at the chaos and grinned. “Now,” he said to himself with satisfaction, “it’s starting to get fun.”
22
assault with a deadly teacup—lady armitage wins—blood, smoke, and tears—taking flight—tom has an awakening—alex does the forbidden thing—charlotte is no heroine—the moment of choice
Charlotte knew her own happiness. She wanted nothing but the amulet—or, to give it a more fascinating name, total dominance over the fate of England. Granted, she intended to be good in the most outrageous fashion by destroying said amulet, but that did not detract from the central fact: as Prophesized Heir of Beryl Black, the choice was hers to make. It would be the pinnacle of her duty. And if she represented it as a magnificent victory over the Wisteria Society, it might just appease witchy tempers that were bound to erupt when the Wicken League discovered that not only had she been in cahoots with a pirate but she hoped to go on cahooting with him in the future.
Absolutely, she needed that amulet.
Unfortunately, Lady Armitage disagreed.
They wrestled and slapped each other until the lady pirate managed to stab a teacup shard into Charlotte’s arm. Pain rushed through her like a cold wave, smashing everything in its way.
At first she could not understand what had happened; she saw theshard protruding from her arm but did not recognize it; she forgot entirely about amulets and maniac pirates. A moment later, Lady Armitage yanked the shard away and the pain rushed back out, dragging any last fragments of sense with it. Charlotte collapsed onto the floor. Her vision went white, then red, then stayed red. She realized dimly that she was looking at flames.
Lady Armitage hauled herself up, muttering something about annoying girls who did not respect their elders. “You’re worse than Cecilia!” she yelled at Charlotte. “At least she did not stain my favorite dress with her blood!”
