Miss Plim marched along the street, aimed directly toward her like a poisoned arrow.
“Oh hell,” Charlotte agreed.
It was as if Aunt Judith had not stopped pursuing them since being briefly stalled in the ballroom yesterday afternoon. She strode methodically, without weariness or mercy. Her topknot of hair had been knocked aslant, but her elbows were still in working order, jabbing left and right at the people rushing past. And her face was so stormy she could have put out the Armitage House fire just by glaring at it.
“Hell,” Charlotte repeated, the word fluttering madly in her throat.
“Pardon me.”
They turned to see Bixby standing inscrutable beside them. In one hand he presented a silver tray holding two pistols.
“How do you always manage to find me?” Alex asked as he took one of the pistols and passed it to Charlotte.
“One does try to perform one’s job adequately,” Bixby replied.
“Or maybe you’re trying to catch me off guard, so I’ll scream in fright and you can scold me for being noisy.”
“Certainly not, sir,” Bixby said in a tone so deadpan it sounded like it had been bashed to death by laughter.
Alex gave him a dark look. “I’m tempted to make you walk the plank,” he said, taking the other gun and checking its bullet chamber. “But you’d no doubt critique the wood and refuse to walk until I’d hammered all the bolts in properly. Is the house safe?”
“One moment, sir,” the butler replied. He lifted his tray without looking and whacked it against the head of a young man who had been attempting to pick his pocket. The boy crumpled to the ground.
Alex glanced down. “Isn’t that Dominic Etterly?”
“Jonah, the younger son,” Bixby corrected him.
“Good heavens, Joe Etterly, old enough for piracy. I feel ancient. Do me a favor, Bixby, and steal that fobwatch he has attached to his waistcoat.”
“Yes, sir. Also, the house is quite safe, although we will need to repaint the front door. And if I may be so bold as to mention: irascible aunt at two o’clock.”
Alex turned, raising his gun automatically.
Charlotte stared at him in horror. “Surely you don’t intend to shoot my aunt?” she demanded.
“I—”
“Because that is my privilege.” She tried to cock her own gun, thenfrowned and tried again. Alex winced and, taking the weapon, released the safety and cocked the hammer for her before handing it back.
Charlotte might have gone on to shoot Miss Plim, or she might not have; before the decision could be made, the aunt herself arrived. At this point, shooting her would be a decidedly intimate matter—and make an awful mess. Charlotte found herself hiding the gun behind her back like a naughty child caught with forbidden cake.
“Charlotte Pettifer,” Miss Plim declaimed, crossing her arms and managing to look down her nose at Charlotte despite the latter being half a head taller. “I am appalled to find you in such a state—standing on the street in your unmentionables, covered in blood and soot, and worst of all, with your hair unbound! You have been behaving shamefully, not only dragging the good name of your family through the mud, but also the wicked name of witches everywhere. Pirates have begun to consider us approachable! I have received two invitations to tea this morning alone! Such an intolerable state of affairs must cease at once. I require you to return home and make a public denouncement of this—this—” She flapped a hand toward Alex as if naming him would defile her tongue.
Charlotte shook back her hair in a gesture of defiance not quite as powerful as aiming a gun at her aunt’s face, but good enough that it made Miss Plim scowl furiously. “The man to whom you are referring, Aunt Judith, is my friend.”
Miss Plim spat out a laugh. “Friend? What nonsense! I would say you’ve been afflicted with piratic foolishness, Charlotte Judith Pettifer, but sadly there has always been a deep flaw in you, a propensity to delinquency, no matter how hard I have tried to improve you. It makes me sick when I—”
She stopped, her mouth wrinkling up into a knot.
“You’ll notice,” Alex said languidly to Charlotte, although notmoving his attention from the gun he had pressed against Miss Plim’s temple, “I have the safety off, so will be free to shoot when I do this.”
He cocked the gun.
Miss Plim flinched.
“I’m afraid I did not get the memorandum about being friendly to witches,” he said. “Hell, I’m not even friendly to the one I intend to marry. So I’m telling you right now, madam: one more nasty word to Lottie and I’ll ensure you never speak again.”
His expression was so cold, so ruthless, even Charlotte shuddered. Miss Plim huffed in outrage, her nostrils flaring, but no actual words emitted from her pursed mouth. Charlotte could not believe it.
