And nearly got run down by a conga line of dancing pirates.
10
the misery of joy—a dangerous conversation— one bed too many—private eyes—rude awakenings
There is an order of mortal on the earth who do become youthful in their old age, and around whom everyone else is at risk of dying before middle age from sheer exhaustion. The Wisteria Society ladies were such an order—or, more accurately,disorder.
Alice had never met people so dedicated to the pursuit of happiness. She could not approve of this, nor of their determination to drag her along—literally, in the case of the conga. Oh sure, when off duty she enjoyed such pleasurable activities as giving the bedroom a good sweep and rubbing the entire body of her silverware collection until it shone. But wanton cheerfulness was like reading a book without first checking how it ended. The risk of surprise was simply too great.
Therefore, she was relieved when the pirates’ conga line finally ran out of steam and she could sneak away with Daniel. Being alone in a bedroom with him would secure against any form of pleasure.
They were almost to their door when a pair of housemaids, ladenwith folded sheets, noticed them. Gasping excitedly, the young women hurried over.
“Is it true?” one asked in a loud whisper.
Alice and Daniel frowned with automatic disapproval. “Is what true?” Alice asked.
“Are you them?”
“A and B,” the other maid clarified. She was surveying Daniel with such heated interest it could only be considered a miracle that her stack of laundry didn’t combust.
“A.U.N.T.’s greatest agents!” the first added, bouncing on her heels.
Alice glanced around to ensure they were alone in the corridor. “You are being indiscreet,” she chided.
But neither woman listened. Indeed, she’d barely finished speaking when the first said, “We heard you hijacked Miss Darlington’s house on the way here.”
“No—” Alice began.
“We heard you shot six thieves in St. James,” said the other.
“No—”
Suddenly, Daniel reached out and removed the topmost sheet from the laundry of the woman nearest him. As everyone watched nervously, he unfolded it by half, realigned the corners, and refolded it with such precision its edges could probably be used to slice bread. He set it on the stack once more.
Pallid and trembling, the maids hastened away without another word.
“It seems they are giving any twit a license to kill these days,” Daniel murmured irritably as he turned back toward the bedroom door.
“I should have shaken better sense into them,” Alice said, “but frankly felt too tired to stir myself.”
Entering the bedroom at last, Alice locked the door and stood justsoaking in the dimly lit quiet. As she inhaled on a slow count to three, she heard Daniel do the same. Together at four, they exhaled. Then Daniel checked behind curtains while Alice inspected under the bed, looking for thieves, tigers, or dust balls.
Eventually Daniel turned and, pressing the heel of his hand against his brow, looked at Alice in a way that suggested he was still seeing Mrs. Ogden’s bustle jiggling as the elderly pirate conga’d in front of him.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“Hurt?” No one had ever asked Alice such a thing before, and she struggled to process it.
“From before, when we were upstairs.”
“Oh. Not at all. Captain O’Riley and Miss Pettifer laughing at the idea of you marrying me in no way wounded my feelings, or—”
“I meant physically. Did the tiger hurt you?”
“No, I managed to escape without harm. However, Frederick Bassingthwaite’s hair oil splashed in my eye several times while doing the conga. Frankly, I knew this mission would involve danger, and a tiger in a bedroom was apropos, butdancing—?!”
They both shuddered.
