Although he hadn’t been joking. She was delicate, and dangerous, and the fact that he was completely seduced by it was going to make things very difficult indeed when the time came to throw her into jail.

Or out of a high window.

Whichever came first.

Leaning forward, he poured more wine into her glass. She might as well have one good night. “Drink up,” he said, smiling, watching her try to blink him into focus, and then sat back again contentedly as the waiter brought their fish. This was going to be fun.

They ate in quiet, commenting only now and again about the excellence of the food or the heat of the room, and Cecilia remained calm, impassive, undisturbed by fears for her aunt or disgust for her dinner companion. Some other woman in the room kept laughing, then weeping, dropping cutlery, then almost falling out of the chair trying to retrieve it, and at one point flinging a piece of duck off her fork halfway across the room while arguing a point about Hiawatha. Cecilia paid her no attention. It would be unladylike to stare. She simply sipped her wine, ate her dinner, and conversed occasionally with Captain Lightbourne, maintaining her usual dignified manner.

When the cheese was finished and it was time to seek a room for the night, she was dismayed by how the hotel lurched as they crossed the dining room. Obviously there was a problem with its stabilizing magic. Perhaps someone was saying the incantation wrong. Cecilia suggested to Captain Lightbourne that they go up to offer their assistance, but he assured her it was unnecessary. Taking her arm, he helped her across the room while other diners watched them in clear admiration of their youth, elegance, and beautiful clothes. Cecilia imagined how amusing it would be to turn at the doorway and wave to them, and Captain Lightbourne laughed as if he had somehow heard her thought and envisioned it too.

“Well, I never!” a woman gasped. Cecilia looked around for her aunt but did not see her. At least, though, it proved Miss Darlington was safe, no doubt enjoying a cup of tea beside the dining room hearth, and Cecilia felt happy to go to bed knowing she need not worry about dear Aunty after all.

Lord Albert’s hat was returned to him, and they proceeded upstairs. Alas, the elevator was haunted by the ghosts of smugglers long lost on storm-tossed seas, and as they traveled up—and down—and sideways for a while—Cecilia tried to recall spells Pleasance used to mutter to ward off troublesome spirits. “Lady Victoria is unwell,” Captain Lightbourne explained to the elevator attendant, which didn’t sound much like a spell, but Cecilia repeated it anyway. Doing so only aggravated the ghosts, however. They shoved her against Captain Lightbourne, and he put his arm around her protectively. Charming man, shame she would have to assassinate him one day soon.