“I wastryingto go,” Caleb pointed out, “but you stalled me with a look.”
“I’m not looking at you,” she said, although in fact she continued to fix him within her gaze.
Why not?he wanted to demand. But being a mature adult (despite all evidence to the contrary), he said instead, “Alas for you, missing out on this ravishing beauty.”
“There is no need to be like that,” Amelia replied, imperturbable.
“Like what?” He could feel his eyes darkening with a genuine intensity of emotion, and the stiffness of Amelia’s expression confirmed it. Turning back to Vanity so abruptly the girl jolted, he smiled at her again. “What do you think I’m like?” he asked, earnest and charming while his subconscious shot darts at Amelia behind him.
“Uh—” Vanity began hesitantly.
Caleb flung his stare back at Amelia. “People who make accusations should do so unambiguously.”
Amelia replied with a slow blink, the kind that reduced misbehaving students to tremorous wrecks requiring the support of the nearest chair. Caleb himself was made of sterner stuff, however, and remained upright (although it must be acknowledged that, as he watched the glide of her eyelashes, he became more upright than was strictly comfortable under the circumstances).
“Maybe we should just go…” Vanity attempted. But she might as well have been a professor lecturing last thing on a Friday afternoon for all that they listened to her.
“I should think your behavior is clear to everyone without me needing to describe it,” Amelia said.
“Just admit that you left your thesaurus at home,” Caleb answered tartly.
Three plates on the table exploded.
Caleb and Amelia ducked with the speed of people well used to tableware being more dynamic than is the norm. Alarmed shouts echoed through the room.“Oh my God!”Vanity cried out, stumbling backward. Cutlery began to levitate, flashing with a blue tint of light along their silver handles.
Straightening, Caleb and Amelia looked at each other, irritation replaced by professional excitement.
“An eructation of perceivable thaumaturgic energy,” Amelia said. “Do you have a thaumometer at hand?”
“Why would I need it?” Caleb said. “I canseethe magic.”
“Hm,” Amelia responded, as if one’s senses were an inadequate source of information, regardless of the teacup hoveringright before her eyes. “This building must stand on a deposit of thaumaturgic minerals.”
“Or something in the room is enchanted,” Caleb suggested.
Amelia shook her head. “Unlikely. An object of such potency would be too valuable to be sitting in a third-rate pub.”
“Hey!” exclaimed a nearby waitress with indignation.
Amelia turned to apologize but stopped abruptly upon seeing a dessert trolley begin to glide across the room. No one was pushing it, but this was of minor concern compared to the fact that it glided two feet above the ground.
“Well, that takes the cake,” Caleb drawled.
Amelia gave him a look so unamused she might have been mistaken in that moment for Queen Victoria.
“I see my joke landed as flat as a pancake,” Caleb said. “By God, Professor Tarrant, you’re a tough cookie to break.”
“For goodness’ sake,” she muttered. “If you don’t—”
Thwack.
A large custard pie, having leaped up from the trolley, slammed itself against a framed portrait of the prime minister. It would have incited roars of laughter had the pub been a pantomime theatre or the House of Commons; as it was, horrified cries rang out.
And then the chaos really began.
Pastries began shooting off the trolley, pelting diners and, in some cases, bursting into flames midair. People clambered from their chairs and ran for the door, screaming, shoving tables and each other. A pavlova detonated, bombs of cream flinging through the room.
Caleb felt someone clutch him from behind and looked around to discover Vanity huddling wide-eyed against him.Disengaging her gently, he grasped her shoulders, shaking them a little to focus her attention. “Miss Tunnicliffe!” he shouted over the cacophony. “You need to evacuate the room.”
