“Everyone did.” Pilar tickled Loup’s nose with the tassel. “And it’s not my fault I was an early bloomer. When you did a year or so later… God, I can’t believe I didn’t notice now. Not until the day of my aunt’s funeral, when my uncle tried to drag me back home with him. You stopped him, remember?”
“Vividly.”
“I hugged you.” She abandoned the tassel to run her hand along the sleek curve of Loup’s back. “I was just so glad you’d made him let me go, you know?” She shook her head. “Except I didn’t want to stop, and nothing’s ever been the same since.”
Loup laughed. “Pilar, does this conversation still have anything to do with our bratty client? Because you’re so getting your smolder on.”
“Umm… no?” Pilar raised her eyebrows. “You okay with that?”
“Yep!”
TWENTY-FOUR
The party took place at a château on the shore of Lake Geneva.
The sea battle took place on Lake Geneva. A mixed crew of actors and security team members boarded a scaled-down model of an eighteenth-century brig at the jetty. The sailors looked jaunty and the officers looked impressive in their velvet doublets trimmed with gold braid and tricorn hats, an effect only slightly marred by the radio earpieces several of them wore.
Waiting to board, Rose Danielson shivered with anticipation. She wore an elaborate period gown and her cheeks were flushed with pleasure.
“It will be such an exciting voyage, don’t you think, Tip?” she said to Loup, standing beside her in her cabin boy’s costume.
“Huh?” Loup blinked.
The girl’s nostrils flared. “You’re to say ‘yes, mistress,’ or ‘yes, mum’!”
“Yes, mum,” Loup said obligingly. “Sorry. I didn’t know I was Tip.”
“Tip is a perfectly good name for a cabin boy, don’t you think?”
“Yes, mum.”
The captain, who was an actor, escorted Rose aboard the ship personally, giving her his arm and behaving unctuously. Her flush deepened. Loup padded obediently behind her diminutive mistress, alert and attentive. Henry Kensington, the first mate, gave her a subtle nod.
Once they were aboard, the captain gave the order to hoist sails. Up went the sails, while a discreet motor purred into life.
“Forward go we to seek our fortunes in the new world!” the captain shouted.
On the shore, a crowd of partygoers in period attire shouted, “Huzzah!”
Rose leaned over the railing, waving a kerchief. “Goodbye, Papa! Goodbye! Don’t weep for me, Papa!”
He blew her a dozen kisses, looking profoundly worried.
“Idiot,” Loup murmured under her breath.
The girl gave her a sharp glance. “What’s that you say, Tip?”
She returned a look of wide-eyed innocence. “Nothing, mum.”
They chugged toward the center of the lake. The actors fawned over Rose, making a show of being attentive toward her. She blushed and giggled, reveling in the attention. Loup stuck close to her side, scanning the crew intently.
Right on schedule, the scaled-down pirate galleon glided into view, bearing swiftly down upon them.
“It’s Mick O’Malley!” the captain cried. “Man the starboard guns!”
There was a booming sound and a puff of smoke. The pirate galleon tacked, then essayed a smoky boom of its own.
Rose squealed.
Pyrotechnic effects on the brig’s rigging sizzled and guttered, failing to ignite. Members of the crew glanced at one another.
“We’re hit!” the captain called, ignoring evidence to the contrary. “It’s every man for himself!”
Actors began diving overboard.
“I pray you, kind Tip, don’t leave me.” Rose clutched Loup’s arm. “I fear the pirate captain’s cruel intentions.”
“No, mum.”
The girl eyed her. “You feel… odd. I don’t care for it.”
“Good.”
Amid a bit of staged swordplay, Diarmuid McDermott vaulted aboard the ship in character as Mick O’Malley. He was a handsome young man with a thick shock of fair hair and vivid green eyes. He tilted his head back and issued a full-throated laugh, breaking it off at the sight of Rose. “But what is this?” he asked, wondering. “Is it a woman or a child? So young, and yet so valiant! I profess myself quite overcome.”
Rose blushed violently. “Good sir…”
“No, no!” He sank to his knees, pressing her hand between his. “You are exquisite. You are beyond compare. This life does not suffice to sustain you. You must come with me and be my pirate queen. And I shall issue my personal amnesty for all your crew!”
“All—all right,” she stammered. “Come, Tip!”
“Yes, mum.”
Loup watched the costumed movie star help her client navigate the tricky crossing to the pirate ship, then vaulted over effortlessly, landing on her bare feet.
The dashing pirate captain eyed her. “Oh, my. You’re something else, aren’t you?”
“Nope.” She adjusted her red stocking cap. “Security, that’s all.”
“Rightio.”
After a bit of byplay in which the pirates hailed Rose as their pirate queen, the pirate ship sailed to the jetty. The brig ostensibly limped behind it, having retrieved several drenched actors. The crowd greeted their arrival with cheers. Hugh Danielson swept his daughter into his arms as she disembarked, then shook Diarmuid McDermott’s hand and thanked him for bringing her back safely.
“They made a botch of it, Papa,” Rose said in a more subdued tone than she might have used if her movie idol hadn’t been present. “The fire and smoke didn’t go. It was terribly disappointing. You’ll have someone dismissed for this, won’t you?”
“Absolutely, pet.”
Henry Kensington’s voice crackled in Loup’s ear. “Land team, are we secure for arrival?”
“Affirmative,” came the reply.
“Sea team, four square and perimeter,” Henry said. “Loup, stay close to the target.”
She touched the transmit button. “Affirmative.”
Rose pouted. “Whoever are you talking to, Tip?”
“Ah… First Mate Kensington, mum.”
“Well, I don’t care for it!”
Loup gave her a look, warning her not to push it.
Inside the château, they adjourned to the great hall on the second floor. It was a splendid space with vast windows and a high, vaulted rococo ceiling. Even in daylight, the spectacular crystal chandelier blazed. Henry Kensington relaxed visibly, feeling better about his team’s security now that they weren’t on open water and exposed. Waitstaff in contemporary black-and-white garb struggled to circulate through the throng.
“They’re too slow!” Rose complained. “Tip, fetch champagne for Captain O’Malley and myself.”
“You sure, mum?”
“Papa said I might have two glasses. I would like the first one now.”
Loup threaded her way through the crowd to Pilar’s station at the far end of the hall, cutting to the head of the line. “Sorry,” she apologized. “It’s for the birthday girl. I need two glasses of champagne, Pilar.”
“Everything go okay out there?” Pilar asked, relieved to see her.
“More or less. The fireworks fizzled.” Loup wrinkled her nose. “Still smells like smoke, though.”
“To you, maybe.” Pilar handed her two champagne flutes. “Back to your mistress, cabin boy.”
“Aye, aye.”
By the time she returned, Rose and McDermott had already been served. “Never mind.” He quaffed his first glass while well-wishers greeted his pirate queen, then surreptitiously downed the two that Loup had brought. “I could use something with a wee bit more bite.” He glanced longingly in the direction of Pilar’s station. “Tell her ladyship I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
Several minutes later, Rose noticed his absence and glanced around to spot him leaning on the counter of the bar, flirting with Pilar. “I knew I didn’t want her here!” She stamped her foot. “Tip, fetch him back!”
“Don’t want to leave you unattended, mum.” Loup pushed the transmit button. “Pilar, please send the nice pirate captain away.”
A few members of the security team hid smiles. Diarmuid McDermott returned with a glass of whiskey, weaving very slightly.
“Forgive me, my English Rose,” he said smoothly. “I do but wish to toast to your beauty!” He hoisted his glass and drank.
She lifted her chin. “You’re not what I expected.”
He lowered his glass and gave her a rakish grin. “Do you not read the tabloids, love?”
While servers circled the tables, pouring ice water in preparation for the early dinner, a band in Regency attire began to play. McDermott handed his glass to Loup and bowed to Rose. “Let me make it up to you on the dance floor, my lady.”
Loup shifted to get a better angle, watching them dance. Other couples joined them. The flush returned to Rose’s cheeks—but then, it was unseasonably warm and growing warmer in the crowded hall.
And she still smelled smoke.
She sniffed her clothing, then the clothing of a startled actor in pirate costume. There was a lingering trace of smoke and a corditelike smell from the botched special effects. Not the same smell. Loup moved closer to the balcony, where a handful of guests were smoking cigars. It wasn’t that, either.
“Henry,” she said into her earpiece. “Can you come here a second?”
He made his way to her. “What is it?”
“I smell smoke.”
“Probably just from the special effects.” He lowered his voice, conspiratorial. “We arranged for them to flub the big one for safety’s sake. Dear Papa was in on it.”