They had gone two steps when Cecilia stopped. “Just a moment,” she said, and with a meaningful glance at Lieutenant Fluthian she returned to lock the front door.

Ned grinned. “Her Majesty’s Special Service are not prone to thieving,” he chided.

“Then return my amethyst ring,” she replied.

Laughing, he drew the ring from his jacket pocket. Cecilia reached for it but he clasped her hand and held it steady as he slipped the ring onto her middle finger. The slow, heavy slide of it made his heart stir. Looking up through his eyelashes, he smiled as he watched a blush color her lovely face.

“Are you ever going to return my heart?” he asked softly.

She shrugged. “Maybe for a ransom. Good heavens, is that Constantinopla Brown?”

The young pirate girl was running toward them, her dress a maelstrom of flounces, her massive hair bow flapping as if she was attempting personal liftoff. “You’re here!” she cried happily. “Do you see what I did?”

“Is my aunt Darlington safe?” Cecilia asked at once.

Constantinopla waved a hand at the question. “Of course! Master Luxe, do you see I brought the Queen to your rescue?”

Ned nodded with mild amusement. “I do see, Miss Brown. I also recall telling you to stay in Ottery St. Mary.”

She flushed, but her smile did not falter. “Oh, that was Tom’s fault. He practically dragged me to Windsor.”

“Where is my aunt?” Cecilia asked.

“Somewhere,” Constantinopla replied, not taking her shining gaze from Ned’s face. “In the castle or somewhere. A doctor is attending her. Look at the dress the Queen gave me!”

“A doctor?” Cecilia almost shouted, and Ned squeezed her hand in comfort.

“It’s nothing, just a scratch,” Constantinopla assured her blithely. “You should have seen the other fellow! Master Luxe, the Queen herself let me help fly her castle! I finally have my wings!”

“Is that so?” Ned murmured. He glanced over her shoulder and grinned. “Hello there,” he said.

“Incorrigible lout,” came the reply.

Constantinopla spun about and nearly tripped over herself, curtsying. “Your—Your Majesty,” she stammered.

“Yes, yes,” the Queen said at the end of a weary sigh. “Young lady, would you run and fetch me a parasol while I have a word with Major Candent here.”

Constantinopla was intelligent enough not to glance at the large Chinese paper parasol the Queen was carrying. She bobbed another curtsy and fled. Queen Victoria gave Ned a blank look that twitched at its edges and sparkled in its eyes. His grin deepened. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cecilia staring at him incredulously.

“I never knew a girl more determined to remind me of my majesty,” Queen Victoria said. “The constant curtsying made me quite dizzy.” She looked then at Cecilia. “You, however, are not curtsying at all.”

“Ma’am,” Cecilia said, and held out her hand. Queen Victoria stared at it as if it was a bishop’s wig.

“Your Majesty,” Ned said smoothly, taking a step forward. “May I introduce Miss Cecilia Bassingthwaite, niece of Miss Jemima Darlington, who is a pirate of some ill repute. Cecilia recently resided in Mayfair and has a particular interest in literature. Miss Bassingthwaite, Her Majesty Queen Victoria, Queen of England and Empress of India.”