Bloodhound Bess took exception to this (on general principle, since she did not know whatilluminationmeant, although she suspected it was another rude word), and moments later Alice found herself stumbling back so as to avoid the lady’s sword. She collided with Mrs. Ogden, who was disputing the pronunciation ofBaroquewith Lysander Smith by means of shouting“Barro-kew! Barro-kew!”and bashing him around the head with her purse.
“Hey, watch it!” the elderly pirate complained as Alice knocked against her.
“I beg your pardon,” Alice said. But Mrs. Ogden swung about, aiming her purse toward Alice’s head even as Bloodhound Bess moved closer—
And suddenly Daniel was there, standing between Alice and the two pirate women, his arms crossed and his disapproval more daunting than a drawn weapon.
“Ladies,” he said. “I’m sure you do not mean to threaten my wife.”
At that moment, a freak lightning storm occurred inside Alice Dearlove’s circulatory system.
“My goodness,” Bess remarked dryly as she lowered her sword. “What a romantic gesture!”
“I can look after myself,” Alice said—since, according to the mission dossier, a statement of feminine independence was required at such moments, not dreamy music and a dozen roses displayed by candlelight in her brain.
Bess gave a short, crisp laugh. “Come now, every pirate adores romantic gestures. A man risking life and limb for you? So thrilling! And let us be clear—” She pinned Daniel with a hard look. “Life and limbareat risk here.”
Daniel looked back unflinchingly.
“Frankly, I didn’t think he had it in him,” Mrs. Ogden commented.
“Oh, I suspect there is a great deal of interest under Mr. Blakeney’s cover,” Bess replied. “Come, my dear, let us go attack each other over in that corner, and leave Mrs. Blakeney to handle her—” She broke off, clearing her throat.
“Husband,” Mrs. Ogden supplied.
“Hm,” Bess agreed, and with a smirk she drew the other lady away.
Alice and Daniel stood for a moment in awkward silence, notmeeting each other’s eyes. Finally, Daniel shifted, straightening his already perfectly aligned spectacles.
“Yes. Right. Where were we?”
“Going to search Frederick’s office,” Alice said. “But if we leave now, they’ll assume we’re being—you know.”
“Antisocial?”
“Romantic,”she whispered fiercely.
He gave her a smile so wicked it was as if he’d put on a feathered hat and fascinating boots. Remembering that he’d been butler to a notoriously rakish pirate, Alice wondered just how many vices he had picked up along the way... and whether he might be persuaded to show some of them to her.
“Good,” he said, and tucked her arm around his.
Alice strove to remain tranquil. Over the years, she’d wrestled with men during training, been helped by men into carriages and trains, and even been groped by men who thought she was a naive, powerless servant (and who afterward had much time to dwell upon the error of their ways from a hospital bed). But Daniel Bixby’s physical presence always made her feel like a book whose pages were being riffled.
Now, withmy wifeechoing in her brain as they walked together from the gallery, Alice had to admit herself feeling indeed riffled—by a tornado.
The moment they left the pirates’ sight, Daniel released her. They did not speak as they strode through the castle corridors, and by the time they arrived at Frederick’s office, Alice was sensibly tranquil once more.
“The door is locked,” Daniel reported, tugging on its handle.
“I’m wearing my lockpick as a hairpin today,” Alice said, and patted her coiffure in search of it.
“Allow me.”
Before she understood what he was about, Daniel set a hand against her cheek and used his other hand to slowly withdraw a long copper pin from her hair.
Sticks! Fiddle! The tornado swooped back in again, riffling her so vigorously her brain fell down and had to struggle to get back up again. Her heart tried to outrace the storm. But her eyes were riveted on the sight of Daniel’s temperate face, his lashes casting delicate shadows as he watched himself release the pin. A lock of hair tumbled loose against her throat, and she shivered at its light, stroking touch.
Pressing the sharp point of the lockpick to his fingertip, Daniel smiled. “I should have no problem sliding it in,” he said.
