“It could be worse,” Daniel said. “Imagine if you’d taken the brooch instead.”
Alice brushed loose strands of hair away from her face. “At least this has shown beyond doubt that I am able to take care of myself. Aside from the explosion. And the being flung some distance. And the burning hat. Other than these minor issues, I have proved myself entirely in control. Therefore, I shall be going home alone from here.”
“It would probably be safest,” Daniel agreed. “Thank you for the brief and exciting honeymoon.”
She gave him a bewildered frown, then shrugged. “I will see you later this week.”
She turned to leave.
“Don’t forget your umbrella,” he said. “Littering is an offense.”
He turned in the other direction.
And as they went their separate ways, the clouds burst open, emptying a storm over them.
4
rattleshack—daniel attempts humor, with foreseeable results—harder— creeping damp—spit, fire! spout, rain!— alice is more sinned against than sinning
The better part of valor is deception. Alice, standing beside Daniel in the A.U.N.T. stable yard, looking at the tiny, decrepit cottage that was to fly them to Hampshire, convinced herself she felt not in the least nervous. She also convinced Daniel of this, thanks to the tranquility of her countenance. She convinced the steward who kept handing her insurance disclaimers to sign. And she even convinced herself that she really had convinced them, despite her pallor and the way her pocket fluttered from the tapping fingers inside.
“Just keep all the windows shut and don’t go above thirty miles an hour, and you should—er, youwillbe fine,” the steward said, handing Daniel the key. Behind him, the cottage’s window shutters clattered in the mild breeze and a roof tile fell off. A false flag of piratic nature flapped mournfully, more gray than black.
“What happened to the chimney?” Alice asked, eyeing the cracked brickwork uncertainly.
The steward muttered something about an agent, an opossum, and a stick of dynamite.
“I thought this was a top-priority mission,” Daniel said.
“It is,” the steward replied. “Agent J over there is on a less important mission.”
They looked behind them to where a young man wearing a black tuxedo and desperate expression was trying to kick-start a chicken coop.
“Now,” the steward said, flicking through the papers on his clipboard. “I think we have everything in order. I just need to check your luggage.”
“Why?”
Daniel’s tone would have daunted most men, but the steward was not much more than half a heart and a stack of checklists, and the only thing that daunted him was running behind schedule. “I need to ensure you’re not carrying items that might jeopardize the mission. Unauthorized weaponry and so forth.” He waved his pen in peremptory fashion. “Open your suitcase, please.”
Daniel shrugged. Crouching down, he laid his suitcase flat on the ground and opened it. The steward gasped.
“You cannot be serious!”
Alice peered into the case and almost smiled to see its contents. There must have been two dozen books crammed in.
“What about clothing? Personal accessories?” the steward asked.
Daniel indicated the duffel bag hanging from his shoulder.
“Surely that’s inadequate?”
“I agree,” Daniel said, “but I couldn’t fit in any more books. Hopefully Starkthorn Castle has a decent library.”
The steward shook his head with disapproval, then turned to Alice, flicking his pen at her. “You now.”
She laid down her suitcase and opened it.
The steward rattled the pen against his clipboard.
