“If you could assassinate her, how would you do it?”
The asparagus on Mrs. Etterly’s fork flopped to the plate. “I—er—goodness me. Shoot her, probably?”
“I see.”
“Er. Um.” Mrs. Etterly made an effort to rally. “I hear you are newly back from the Continent, Mrs. Blakeney. How do you find England these days?”
“Oh, I have an excellent map.”
The pirate lady appeared to choke, although she was not at that moment eating anything. “Well, that is certainly a helpful thing to have. If I may say so”—she leaned closer, whispering—“you also have an excellent-looking husband.”
“I do,” Alice agreed, and touched her cheek without thinking. She could still feel the little ache where he had kissed her. “According to science, Mr. Blakeney’s face has the kind of symmetry that is universally considered handsome.”
“Oh well, if you are going to speakscientifically,” Mrs. Etterly said with a smile, “I’m sure there are many chemistry terms that would be quite suitable.”
Alice considered this. “True. Mr. Blakeney is after all comprised of organic matter.”
“I meant thebondbetween you two.”
“Oh.” Alice glanced across the table to where Daniel appeared to be demonstrating a stabbing technique, much to the amusement of the lady beside him. In a flash, Alice remembered the way he’d felled the thief Merv, all smooth competence, not even breaking a sweat. And then she began wondering what he would look like if hehadbroken a sweat—if he’d pulled off his coat, jacket, and shirt, and thus bare-chested had wrestled with Merv, perspiration glinting on his swelling pectoral muscles, hair—
She felt a peculiar rushing through her body, and thought with alarm that perhaps the mushrooms had disagreed with her.
Essie Smith leaned over to join the conversation. “Were he my husband, I’d be applying bonds quite tightly, if you know what I mean.”
Her eyebrows bounced, and Mrs. Etterly responded with a laugh. Alice realized there was a silent conversation occurring alongside their words, one for which she possessed no dictionary.
“There, there.” Mrs. Etterly patted Alice’s shoulder (and stole her earring). “We’ve made poor Mrs. Blakeney blush. Alias! Er, I meanalas. I hope we didn’t spook you too much, dear.”
“Of course we didn’t,” Essie said with a grin. “Mrs. Blakeney may look young and sweet, but I suspect she has a secret wealth of intelligence behind those private eyes of hers, and is no doubt tapped in to our intentions. Aren’t you, dear?”
“I—” Alice began. She had no idea what the rest of her sentence might contain, but that did not matter, for Mrs. Etterly interrupted her before she needed to produce another word.
“Maybe, Essie, maybe. ButIsuspect she’s not as wicked as she could be. Talk to your handsome young husband about bedsteads and bonds, Mrs. Blakeney. Investigate it thoroughly with him. I’m sure together you will uncover interesting results.”
“Thank you for that advice,” Alice murmured, and hastilyproceeded to eat an artichoke heart despite it having touched the creamed corn—anything to escape the torture of small talk.
Over her head, Mrs. Etterly and Essie smirked at each other.
The company separated after dinner, ladies returning to the drawing room to drink tea and discuss such feminine concerns as fashion (what exactly should a lady wear when robbing a bank?) and lip rouge (which shade was best for writing ransom notes?) and recipes (could one substitute belladonna for digitalis in poisoned wine?). The gentlemen remained at the table to trade risqué jokes and ideas for scrapbook layouts.
But Daniel waylaid Alice as she was heading for the drawing room. As he stepped up beside her, she smelled his now-familiar scent of quality soap, and inexplicably blushed. Perhaps the warm gas lighting in the hallway was to blame for this, or perhaps her sudden vision of Agent B seated in a bath, rubbing soap against his bare skin.
“Madam,” he said, “I perceive you are rather tired. It has been a long day; shall we retire early?”
Alice recognized the code forShall we go upstairs and snoop around rooms in search of the secret hidden weapon?
“I am tired,” she agreed. “Thank you for the suggestion.”
“I spy our pretty young couple sneaking off,” Mrs. Etterly said as they went.
“Good luck achieving molecular combustion!” Essie called after them.
Arm in arm they walked upstairs until reaching the first floor, whereupon they immediately stepped away from each other, brushing nonexistent lint from their clothing.
“Jane’s sitting room is in the west wing,” Daniel said. “This way.”
They strode along the corridor. Anyone seeing them would havebeen impressed by their cool, authoritative aura, the sort that suggests guns are hidden in secret pockets and arrest warrants can be immediately produced if required. All that was missing was a slow-motion effect, rousing soundtrack, and recollection on their part that they were supposed to act like swaggering pirates. Coming to Jane’s sitting room, they found the door locked.
