Sophronia did not feel any better. She thought she might rush to Professor Braithwope’s quarters and offer up her blood. She felt she should admit her guilt to Lady Linette. She wanted to do penance. Instead, numb with horror, she allowed herself to be shuffled along to a ball.
In no time whatsoever, those who had been invited to Monique’s ball, a select group of almost half the school and all the visiting Bunson’s boys, disembarked. A veritable herd of hansom cabs awaited them.
Sophronia, Sidheag, Agatha, Dimity, Pillover, and Lord Mersey crammed into one together. Felix arranged it so he could sit between Sophronia and the door.
“How are you this evening, Miss Temminnick?” He was looking quite handsome. His evening dress was impeccable—crisp whites and silken blacks.
Sophronia could hardly believe such a man as this held her in genuine regard. “Well enough, Lord Mersey,” she replied, uncomfortable with his proximity. She could feel the warmth of the length of his thigh against hers, even through all her skirts.
“Still upset, Ria, my sweet? Your gentle heart moved by this evening’s calamity?”
Sophronia studied him from under her eyelashes. “Yes, I must admit, I was shaken. To see a man fall like that.”
Felix patted her gloved hand. “Not a man, a vampire, and they are made of stern stuff. You must rise above it.”
Unfortunate choice of words, thought Sophronia. “Oh, yes, thank you for such kind thoughts.”
“To be sure, Ria, my dear. You lean on me if you are feeling unwell. Don’t tax yourself this evening. And I demand the dinner set and the last dance, in order to better see to your health.”
Dimity, on Sophronia’s other side, stiffened at this audacity.
Sophronia pretended to blush. She couldn’t blush on cue yet, but she could pretend. She lowered her eyelids and fanned herself with her free hand. “Lord Mersey. You already have the third. That would be three dances. I think not. As to the dinner, I said I would think about it.”
“Well?”
“I’m still thinking.”
Felix looked appropriately chastised.
Such games we play, thought Sophronia, rather tired of the whole thing. As if I didn’t have to hedge and speak in code most of the time, I must now do it as part of regular social interactions. No wonder Mademoiselle Geraldine’s has such success training the female aristocracy to be intelligencers. It’s most of our life already. For some inexplicable reason, in a horse-drawn carriage on the way to a ball, sitting in close proximity to another boy, Sophronia found herself thinking of Soap. He never plays any games with me.
Felix was pressed against her side, but she found herself thinking of Soap’s long arm about her waist. She crushed the upwelling of warmth ruthlessly. Soap is a friend. I don’t want to destroy that. I don’t want to change us. Some small traitorous part of her whispered back. Then what do you want?
They arrived, and Lord Mersey gallantly helped them all to descend from the carriage. Sophronia was first, so that by the time he had finished, she was already making her way into Walsingham House with Dimity. Felix was left to escort Agatha or drop the girl’s trembling hand and run after Sophronia in a most unseemly manner.
Walsingham House Hotel was beyond lavish, and the Frond Court Tea Room was particularly grand. Monique’s family must be very wealthy or very optimistic, for no expense was spared. The entire venue was decorated in a gold-and-cream tea theme. There were cream roses nested in large gold sugar bowls. The everyday chandelier had been replaced with one of lavish crystal in the shape of a massive teapot. No one but Monique had been permitted to wear gold, and she glided, in regal superiority, among the attendees in their muted pastels. A string quartet, sufficient but not boastfully large, sat in one corner near a raised dancing area. Long, lace-covered tables arrayed along one wall groaned under bowls of golden punch and cream-colored nibbles. The punch was served in teacups, the comestibles on saucers. All the food was made to look like tea cakes, whether sweet or savory. This got a mite confusing, but everything tasted delicious.
Sophronia did not want to be impressed, but she was. It made her sister Petunia’s coming-out ball seem provincial by comparison.
Several guests had already arrived—enough young men to make up the numbers, some elderly ladies to act as chaperones, and a full service of flaxen-haired, arrogant fops who could only be Monique’s relations. As the room began to fill, Sophronia noticed a bevy of dandies, slightly older and more refined than might be expected, take up position near the punch. The vampire Lord Ambrose lurked to one side. Captain Niall stood in the opposite corner. He saw Sophronia’s group enter, his top hat tilted in Sidheag’s direction like an arrow of inquisition. Sidheag nodded at him shyly.
Having played the appropriate ode to Her Majesty, the band struck up a waltz. Titters of shock permeated the room, excitement from young ladies and disapproval from chaperones. To have a small band was elegance; to commence a ball with a waltz was very daring indeed.
Nevertheless, Monique’s first partner, Lord Dingleproops, led her gamely out onto the floor, and after a stanza or two, others followed. Lord Mersey accosted Sophronia, who gave him her hand willingly, despite her earlier reticence. He was the best-looking boy in the room and probably the highest ranking. With Dimity swinging happily around on some dandy’s arm, a man almost as sparkly as she, and Pillover doing his duty by Agatha, Sophronia felt she might as well take to the floor. Besides, she was tolerably certain Felix wasn’t getting the dinner dance, so she might as well take advantage of his interest. Even Sidheag was whirling about in the arms of a boy taller and gawkier than she.
Felix was an excellent dancer, his hand warm and firm at the small of her back. His frame was a little tight, drawing her in close enough for disapproval, but there was such a crush the chaperones did not notice. Sophronia looked up into his eyes for long moment before lowering her gaze and allowing him time to recover. He did seem a little breathless for a waltz that was limited in aestheticism by the size of the venue and the number of dancers.
It was for him to open dialogue, which he did after they had learned each other’s rhythm. “You’re a wonderful dancer, Ria.”
“Mademoiselle Geraldine’s takes such things seriously.”
“Ah. And how many ways do you know to kill me, while we dance?”
“Only two, but give me time.”
“You have lovely eyes. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“What rot. They are a muddy green. What are you about, Lord Mersey?”
Felix sighed, looking genuinely perturbed. His air of ennui was shaken. “I am trying to court you. Truth be told, Miss Temminnick, you make it ruddy difficult!”
“Language, Lord Mersey.” Sophronia felt her heart flutter strangely. Am I ready to be courted?
“See!”
“Bunson’s and Geraldine’s don’t mix. We practice, but we don’t finish, not with each other.”
“It’s happened before.”
“You mean the Plumleigh-Teignmotts? Yes, but they both had to give it up.”
“Give what up?”
“Their training.”
“I’m not asking you to marry me, Ria. I’m asking you to let me court you.”
“To what end, exactly, if not marriage?”
Felix winced.
“I’m not willing to stop learning. Are you?” Despite her guilt over Professor Braithwope’s fall, as she said it Sophronia knew this was true. “As I understand it, we serve different masters.”
“Precisely why it might be fun.”
“I will not be used as some boyish excuse for rebellion.”
“You see what I mean? Difficult! I like it.”
“You’re a loon.”
“And you’re a silver swan sailing on liquid dreams.”
Sophronia giggled. “Stop that. This is getting us nowhere.”
“So may I court you?”
Sophronia looked over his shoulder, feeling dizzy. From the waltzing, of course. She stalled for time and then…
“Where’s Dimity?”
Felix was thrown by the sudden switch in topic.
“And Pillover! Where’s Pillover?”
Sophronia scanned the crowd frantically. There was the dandy who had been dancing with Dimity; he was now dancing with Agatha. The Plumleigh-Teignmott siblings were gone! Sophronia looked to the back of the crowd near the punch bowl. Lord Ambrose was also gone. Sidheag was still with her tall partner. Captain Niall lurked on the sidelines, his eyes on Lady Kingair with an odd expression in them. With no time to analyze any of it, Sophronia broke away from Felix.
“Are you leaving me in the middle of a dance again?” She’d done exactly the same thing to him the night they danced at Petunia’s coming-out ball. He grabbed for her arm. “I’ll stop being silly. I promise.”
“This is not a cut, Felix. I must go fix something.”
“Why is it always your problem to fix, Ria?”
“Because I see that there is a problem when no one else does.”
With nothing more to say than that, Sophronia Angelina Temminnick did the rudest thing she had ever done in all her life: she left a high-ranking peer of the realm standing alone in the middle of a waltz. For the second time of their acquaintance. Oh, dear, she thought, he might never forgive me.
Sophronia was just in time. She saw the hem of Dimity’s gown, a strikingly bold peach-and-brown pattern not unlike a sun-bleached tiger, disappear inside a private carriage outside the hotel. She could also hear the sound of muffled yelling.
The driver struck up the horses but not before Sophronia hiked up her skirts, ran down after them, and leapt up to the back step, a place ordinarily occupied by footmen in livery. It was not a perch designed for a ball gown, nor were any meant to stand there when moving at speed, but Sophronia held on. No one is kidnapping my Dimity!
The carriage careened through the streets at a dangerous pace, slowing only when traffic demanded. After a relatively short distance, they drew to a halt on a quiet domestic avenue. Sophronia jumped down and to the side, turning her head away from the carriage and pretending to walk along the pavement as if out for a stroll. Alone. In a ball gown. The door to the carriage opened behind her. She could not turn without arousing suspicion, so she proceeded at an unhurried pace until she was around the far corner of the street. Once there, she inched up close to the last house and peeked back around, cursing a fashion that dictated young ladies wear pale colors and big puffed skirts. She was undeniably visible.
Her position afforded her the opportunity to watch the carriage draw around to wait, having disgorged its contents. Sophronia ruminated. Lord Ambrose, who does he belong to? Is he a rove like Professor Braithwope, or is this a hive house? How do I find out? I don’t even know which part of London I’m in. A number of fashionably dressed individuals came and went, as if it were visiting hours. The visitors were not dressed for dinner, and they did not stay long. Sophronia observed for some three-quarters of an hour, hoping for an indication of… something.
Eventually, a young man in full evening dress sauntered up to the house. He had a nondescript face, good-looking enough, with a clean, straight nose and no mustache. He took off his hat to salute whomever opened the door. In the light cast by the hallway, Sophronia recognized him. He was the man who’d tried to get the prototype from Monique and the Pickleman at Petunia’s ball. The man from Westminster. Sophronia had thought him a government employee, but now it was clear that this man was a Westminster Hive drone and this was the hive house. Lord Ambrose must be a member as well. The hive wanted Dimity and Pillover. Oh, dear, I did hope it was the Picklemen. Vampires complicate matters, being all supernatural and hard to sneak around. So the vampires wanted to press matters with Dimity’s parents. The Plumleigh-Teignmotts must be the only ones who knew how to make the guidance valves. The vampires wanted to either manufacture and sell the technology or destroy it.
Sophronia was wise enough not to take on a hive alone and without preparation. Dimity and Pillover were on their own until she could return with reinforcements. Sophronia could only hope that her two friends would be of no use to the vampires dead. Oh, Dimity, please remember some of your training.
She turned her attention to hiring transport, but the roadways were quiet—not a single hansom to be seen. Then a fly came careening down the cross street, drawn by matched white geldings and driven by two dandies of the highest order. One might even have called them fops, their trousers were so loud and their collar points so high. Sophronia glanced away; she did not want to be thought a light skirt. She had no time for shenanigans.
To her horror, the fly drew up next to her.
“What ho, little miss!” yodeled one of the dandies. His hair was a lovely pale gold, his face almost iridescent in the moonlight. He wore an outfit of silver and royal blue, accented with pure white.
The other, a young man with ebony skin like Soap, although with none of Soap’s streetside aura, looked to his companion. “My lord, we are very close to Westminster. Should we be stopping in their territory?” His outfit was all soft peaches and dove grays with cream, a perfect compliment to the other’s clear colors.
“For a brief moment, I think, Pilpo, dear. They are accustomed to my sport.”
“But, my lord…”
The gold-haired dandy smiled at Sophronia, showing a hint of fang.
I spend my whole life without vampires, and in the space of one year I’ve met far too many.
“One of Mademoiselle Geraldine’s girls, methinks,” he said. “You have the aura.”
Sophronia blinked up at him, shocked.
“My dear child, did you think you and yours were the only players?”
Sophronia narrowed her eyes in the direction of the hive house.
“And Westminster,” the vampire added, confirming her suspicions.
Sophronia said, “And Bunson’s, and the Picklemen, and the potentate, and now—who, my dear sir, are you? If you will excuse my asking directly.”
“Oh, I’m not important. Would you like a lift, little lavender bud?”
Sophronia considered this. Lavender bud?
The vampire dandy said, “Normally, my dear dewdrop, I prefer not to interfere. It’s so much more fun to observe. But even I’m loathe to leave an innocent young lady alone and entirely without protection on the streets of gay London-town.”
Sophronia thought on the matter. She might be getting herself into more trouble, accepting a lift from a strange vampire—well dressed though he might be. But he wasn’t threatening, and Dimity and Pillover desperately needed her. Besides, this man was well-informed. Perhaps he might engage in some lucrative conversation.
With a nod, she allowed herself to be helped in by the other dandy, who took up position on the footman’s perch of the fly, allowing Sophronia to sit next to the driver. Said driver gave her a charming, if fanged, smile, and whipped the horse into a trot.
HOW TO BE A DANDY
The foppish vampire was not very forthcoming, although he found Sophronia’s attempts to extract information highly diverting.
“Are you acquainted with the members of that household?” was her first foray, alluding to the Westminster Hive as they sprang down the street.
He rebutted with, “The house on the corner? Not at all, sweet almond flower.”
“No, the house in the middle. The one with the birches at the front.”
“I know them by reputation, of course, but who doesn’t?”
Sophronia raised her eyebrows at him. “Me. I don’t.”
“Oh, my dear sugarplum, aren’t you precious?”
“Westminster Hive. Lord Ambrose. That’s what I’ve got so far. I don’t suppose…” she trailed off hopefully. He seemed like such a nice, jolly fellow.
The nice, jolly fellow gave a nice, jolly laugh. “Curious as a kitten. Aren’t you, puss? No, dear, no. I think a lift is more than enough interference. As I said, I do try not to participate as a rule. Although, this is unusual hive behavior for so early in the Season. What are they about?”
Sophronia said, hoping for an exchange, “I think it’s all to do with Mr. Giffard’s new dirigible.”
“Do you indeed? And how is poor Aloysius Braithwope?”
“Not well, last I heard.”
“Ah, dear, that’s only to be expected with such an unfortunate mustachio.”
“You know him?”
“We all know one another, puss-puss.”
“What do you want?” Sophronia was moved to exasperation.
“Me? Stockings and breeches to come back into fashion. I do so miss seeing a man’s calves.”
Sophronia swallowed down a startled giggle as the fly drew up in front of Walsingham House Hotel. “No, vampires. What do you vampires want?”
The blond fop looked at her, cocking his beautiful head to one side like a bird. “The same thing you want, my kitten.”
What do I want, right now? Information. Is that all the vampires are after? Information.
Pilpo jumped down and offered her his hand. A sweet flash of a smile crossed his face.
Sophronia stepped down and turned back to look up into the fly.
“There’s a difference between us, you realize?”
“Indeed? Oh please enlighten me, kitten.” The vampire’s blue eyes sparkled in excitement.
“I only want information. You people want to control it.”
The blond threw his head back and laughed. “So wise for one so young. Most diverting! I must remember you, little puss-puss. Normally, I don’t bother with the fairer sex. I think I might make an exception in your case.”
“Thank you for the compliment, but I’d really rather you didn’t.” Sophronia hadn’t meant to catch his eye. The last thing she needed was a vampire interfering in her life.
“Now, now, don’t close all your doors, kitten. When you are Finished, remember me. I believe I might even take on the potentate for your indenture. Such sharp little claws as Geraldine’s can provide will look lovely on you, and only I can make certain that they have diamond sparkles.”
Sophronia said nothing to that. He was right, best not to close all doors. After all she was only recently considering how expensive her chosen profession might be. Wealthy patrons were not easy to come by, and she had a feeling this one would at least not expect a connubial relationship.
She said only, “Thank you very much for the lift, kind sir.”
“I am at your disposal, kitten.”
He was away before she could ask his name or his consequence. Nor, she realized, had she been afforded the opportunity to give him hers. I suppose he will know how to find me, if he wants.
Sophronia trotted up the steps and back into the hotel, the odd encounter forgotten as she concentrated on the task at hand.
The ball was still in full sway, which was odd to Sophronia. She had the feeling ages must have passed, but a lively reel vibrated the floorboards of the Frond, and the celebration had continued despite her. She spotted Lady Linette instantly. The music teacher wore a bright pea-green-and-pink gown, vivid among the pastels of the young ladies. She was in conference with the potentate and Captain Niall. They all had worried expressions on their faces, and Sophronia wondered if her absence had been noted.
She was making her way over to them when a hand grabbed her arm.
“Where have you been?” hissed Felix.
“Not now, Lord Mersey!”
“You cut me. On the dance floor. Again. Miss Temminnick, you owe me an explanation.”
Frustrated, Sophronia merely said, “Come with me if you must. I only have time to say this once.”
They pushed their way through the crowd, ending up in front of the group of teachers.
Sophronia curtsied. “Lady Linette, Captain Niall, and Mr. Potentate, sir, please excuse the interruption.”
“Yes, Miss Temminnick?”
“Dimity and Pillover Plumleigh-Teignmott have been kidnapped by the Westminster vampire hive.”
“Miss Temminnick, what a shocking accusation!” Lady Linette clasped her hand to her breast.
Good technique, thought Sophronia.
The potentate looked down at her out of sharp green eyes as if she were some kind of bug in his tea. “I highly doubt that. Why on earth would the hive involve itself? I have everything under control.”
“Have you any evidence?” asked Captain Niall, looking less doubtful.
“Only my own eyes. I followed Lord Ambrose’s carriage to the house itself.”
“The hive house? You can’t possibly know its location.” The potentate would not believe a word of it.
“It wasn’t difficult. I simply used the skills I have been taught. I know it’s the hive because I recognized some of the members.”
“Prove it!” demanded the potentate.
Quietly, cautious of being overheard, Sophronia described the hive house in detail, including the birches in front and the nondescript nature of the street. She did not recount her odd encounter with the fop vampire. Somehow she did not think this would help her cause.
“That proves nothing,” said the potentate, “except that this child somehow knows what the Westminster Hive looks like.”
“And how would she know that, if she hadn’t visited it?” Felix wanted to know. He believed her. But then Sophronia was beginning to suspect that he would automatically believe the worst of any vampire.
The potentate looked down his long nose at the boy. “And who, may I ask, are you?”
“Golborne, sir, Lord Mersey.”
“Picklemen’s get? I should have known they’d be mixed up in this.” The potentate turned on Sophronia. “You working for them, little girl?”
Lady Linette stepped in at that. “My lord potentate! Miss Temminnick is only at the beginning of her training. She isn’t working for anyone… yet!”
The potentate was unconvinced. Glancing over the crowd of dancers, he said, “Ah, look, there’s Ambrose. He can sort this out.”
Lord Ambrose was lurking at the edge of the crowd, looking as if he never left. The potentate summoned him over with a rude crook of the finger. The other vampire responded, a pleasant expression on his handsome face.
Of course, Lord Ambrose denied the accusation. “The Plumleigh-Teignmott children, you say? I suspect the father will have removed them, Lady Linette. I understand he is back working with the Picklemen.”
“No!” gasped Lady Linette. “He never. His wife would never countenance it!”
“Oh, yes, indeed. She’s helping.” The handsome vampire shook his head in mock regret. “Shrimpdittle has been most forthcoming. I excused myself to read this report on his interrogation.” His lip curled. “He claims the Plumleigh-Teignmotts are intending mass production of the crystalline guidance valves for sale to the British market. The Picklemen want controlling concerns.” He handed over a bit of rolled parchment paper. “I bet that upsets the government’s plans, eh, potentate?”
Sophronia glanced at Felix. The boy’s face was inscrutable.
She realized that if the Picklemen were backing Dimity’s parents’ research, then the Westminster Hive had been trying to stop them all along. They’d used Monique to try to steal the original prototype months ago, and when that didn’t work, they’d started trying to kidnap Dimity and Pillover. But my school and the potentate are also involved. Are they mere bystanders, simply trying to ensure that the technology work properly? Or are they trying to gain control of the valves for the Shadow Council and the British government? The Picklemen stood to make a great deal of money off those valves and control who had access to them. Westminster Hive clearly didn’t like that idea and obviously didn’t trust the potentate to put a stop to it. So they were trying to get hold of the valve technology themselves. Even if vampires could never travel in the aetherosphere, Sophronia suspected they would love to control which humans could.
She opened her mouth to protest, to explain this, but Lady Linette shushed her firmly. Good manners forced Sophronia into disgruntled silence.
Lady Linette perused the contents of Shrimpdittle’s confession. “I should think Mrs. Plumleigh-Teignmott would at least have notified me of the family’s intent to remove the children from my supervision.”
“You know scientists, easily distracted.”
Lady Linette looked again at the paper. “Are they really sending Shrimpdittle into exile?”
Lord Ambrose nodded. “The continent, as I understand.”
“Ah, well, I suppose he couldn’t be allowed to teach anymore.”
Sophronia felt an intense sensation of relief. At least Shrimpdittle wasn’t to be imprisoned or hanged, simply consigned to the wilds of Switzerland. She glared at Lord Ambrose. I could confront him directly, accuse him of the kidnapping, but they’re bound to believe an adult over me. I’ve no real proof.
Blast good manners. She made the attempt. “But I saw—”
“You were obviously mistaken,” interrupted Lord Ambrose.
Sister Mattie entered the ball and came bustling over to them. “My dears, Professor Braithwope is awake and lucid. He is asking for you, my lord potentate.”
Lady Linette nodded. “You’d best get along then, my lord.”
The potentate agreed. “Ambrose?”
“Oh, no, I’ll remain here. A ball with such tempting morsels is so very diverting.”
Lady Linette slapped his arm flirtatiously with her fan. “Now, now, keep your fangs to yourself, good sir.”
Lord Ambrose bowed to her. “Of course, dear lady, but perhaps you would honor me with a dance?”
“La, sir, how charming.”
He whirled her off onto the floor, both of them dancing expertly.
Sophronia realized she was on her own in mounting a rescue attempt. She began cataloging her options. I require supplies and a change of clothes. There was nothing for it; she would have to return to the airship. Plus I’ll need the hive house’s actual address. She looked at Captain Niall. The werewolf was the only adult who might help her. I’ll wager he knows the location. She started planning. Sidheag would be useful as well.
“Would you mind a little company on your drive back?” Sophronia looked with wide eyes at Sister Mattie. “I find I am rather bored with this ball.”
Everyone looked at her as though they had forgotten her existence.
Sister Mattie said, “Are you certain, dear? It looks like quite the treat.” Her tone was wistful.
Felix protested as well. “But I had two more dances with you.”
“How kind you are, dear Lord Mersey, but another time? Perhaps you might escort me out?” Sophronia used her best wheedling tone.
Felix had no choice. As a gentleman, he could do nothing but offer her his arm. He did so with grace if not alacrity.
Sophronia added, “And I believe Lady Kingair would also like to depart.”
Captain Niall, who was looking at Sophronia out of the corner of his eye, said, “I think I’ll be going as well.”
The potentate offered Sister Mattie his arm, and they pushed through the crowd. Captain Niall followed, grabbing at Sidheag’s sleeve in a lightning-fast move.
Sidheag left off her position, lurking partnerless near a potted palm, and trailed along with only mild confusion. She was game for anything that removed her from a ball. Plus, as she had once said to Sophronia, “Life’s always more interesting when I chum about with you.”
“What’s going on?” She craned her neck back and whispered to Sophronia.
“I’ll explain when we’re more secure.” Sophronia glanced meaningfully at the potentate’s back.
“Where’s Dimity?” Sidheag asked.
“Otherwise occupied.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Exactly.”
Sophronia turned to her escort and said in a low voice, “Lord Mersey, I know you believe my story.” She batted her eyelashes at him purposefully. “I was thinking there might be others who would be… interested… in Dimity’s current location.”
Felix blinked at her.
Lord save me, thought Sophronia, from boys without training. She nudged him with her elbow. “You know. Others.”
“Oh, yes, I see. Well, perhaps after the ball Father might, or…” Felix trailed off, Sophronia’s expression telling him she was profoundly disappointed. “Perhaps sooner,” he amended his speech.
They reached the street where the potentate’s carriage—a landau with footmen in full royal livery—stood waiting for them.
With the potentate, Sister Mattie, and Sidheag safely ensconced within, Captain Niall stood patiently waiting to hand Sophronia up. He was looking particularly well, especially by comparison to the werewolves from earlier that evening. Certainly his top hat was tied on, but he’d forgone the ubiquitous greatcoat for an impeccable black velvet cutaway jacket and matched trousers with a cream brocade waistcoat. His dark hair, longer than was fashionable, was brushed to silken, glossy waves. No wonder young ladies swooned. Felix was handsome in his brooding way, but next to Captain Niall he was boyish.
Sophronia leaned in and kissed Felix gently on the cheek, a reward for good behavior. “Thank you, Felix, for your understanding and your help.” She lowered her eyelashes prettily.
“Ria, you must be the most confusing girl I’ve ever met. You know I’m mad for you?”
“How kind of you to say.” Sophronia gave her hand to the werewolf, and he assisted her inside.
“Good hunting?” commented Sidheag, watching Felix’s retreating back as Sophronia settled in next to her.
“Son of a duke” was Sophronia’s only comment.
The drive back to Hyde Park was fast, tense, and uncomfortable. The potentate spent most of the time lecturing Sophronia on bandying accusations about without proper foundation.
“Imagine a hive interfering in matters of state! Even Westminster wouldn’t dare. You are a stupid, fanciful child. Accusing vampires willfully like that. You’ve been corrupted by association with that Golborne boy!”
Sister Mattie at first didn’t understand what was happening and then tried to defend Sophronia. “But the embroidered cushions did suggest the hive objected. I mean, our intelligencer inside, she indicated that they were upset with Picklemen actions.”
Sophronia perked up at that statement. So the embroidery was code—as I thought—detailing the danger between Westminster and the Picklemen. A spy from Mademoiselle Geraldine’s was trying to warn us from inside the hive. But when Madame Spetuna abandoned her post to infiltrate the flywaymen, there was no one to transport the cushions, and the warnings didn’t make it in time.
But the potentate dismissed this evidence. “Poppycock! I can not believe they would act without at least consulting me!”
Eventually, Sister Mattie merely tried to mollify him with platitudes. “Please, my lord potentate, try to remember that a pumpkin divided against itself cannot gourd!”
Sidheag followed the whole conversation in increasing bemusement, having no idea what was going on. Captain Niall held his tongue, stiff and uncomfortable in a vampire’s carriage. When they arrived back at the airship, the werewolf got out and skulked away into the night. Sophronia had no doubt he would wait for them groundside. He was no fool, Captain Niall.
Back on board, the potentate strode off to visit Professor Braithwope with one last sharp reprimand in Sophronia’s direction.
“You keep your opinions to yourself, little girl!”
Sister Mattie looked at her, face wrinkled with worry. “I’ll endeavor to keep him occupied, dears. But please remember, a lily cannot change its spots.”
As soon as it was safe to speak, Sidheag turned to Sophronia in frustration.
“What on earth is going on?”
“I don’t think much of our school’s patron, I’ll tell you that much,” said Sophronia, glaring at the vampire’s retreating back and sticking her tongue out at it childishly.
“Sophronia!”
“I’ll explain while we change. We have a rescue to mount and a hive house to infiltrate.”
“What?”
“Come on, please!”
“What are we changing into?” Sidheag asked, as they hurried back to their rooms.
Sophronia thought about her encounter with the fashionable blond vampire. “Dandies. We need to look like dandies.”
Sidheag pursed her lips. “I’m not cutting my hair.”
They did their best with the disguises, dressing in a combination of Sidheag’s trousers and their own lace under blouses and velvet vests. Real dandies would have had better-fitting clothing, not to mention superior cravats. The two girls ended up looking like something that came from an underfunded circus.
“We are ridiculous.” Sidheag adjusted her coat in the mirror. “And you don’t have a jacket.”
“Preshea has one of those new little short ones, you know, like the bullfighters of Spain.” Sophronia went off on a raid, returning with a bright red-and-gold bolero of which Preshea was particularly proud. Sophronia put it on.
“God’s teeth,” said Sidheag, succinctly.
They did look preposterous, but Sophronia felt that would throw people off if they were caught. “Here, wrap this blue scarf around your waist, and I’ll do the same with Dimity’s fringed yellow one, and we can say we have been attending a fancy dress ball.”
Sidheag did as she was told. “What will Captain Niall think of us?”
“Does that matter, so long as he gets us there? I do hope we have lessons soon on how to memorize locations. I’m annoyed with myself for not knowing how to get back to the hive.”
“Better to worry about how absurd we look! No one in their right mind would let us into their house. Wait, hive? What hive?”
Sophronia explained about Dimity and Pillover being kidnapped by Lord Ambrose and the Westminster Hive.
“I think the vampires want to force their parents to either stop making the guidance valves altogether or hand control of the technology over to the hive. Dimity’s parents are reportedly working for the Picklemen, and the vampires don’t trust Picklemen. Nor do I. For that matter, I just don’t trust any of them.” While she talked, she stashed anything she could think of that might be useful about her person—smelling salts in the waistcoat pocket, sewing scissors down the front of her corset, ribbon around her wrist, and a perfume-soaked handkerchief up one sleeve.
“I’m confused. Sabotage or not, this is clearly a technology vampires canna utilize.”
“I think that’s why they’re panicking. They’re trying to ensure this mode of travel is under their influence.”
Sidheag understood at that. “Can’t have the prey bouncing about through the aetherosphere all willy-nilly, now can they?”
“Sidheag, you think like a predator.”
The Lady of Kingair glowed in pleasure. “Thank you very much, Sophronia. What a nice thing to say.”
They were discussing whether to climb around the outside of the ship or save time by running the inside corridors but risk the mechanical alarm when Vieve showed up.
“What’s going on?” demanded the scamp.
“Get us to engineering fast and I’ll tell you,” replied Sophronia.
“My pleasure.” Vieve whipped out her obstructor.
As they negotiated the halls at a jog, blasting one mechanical after another, Sophronia panted out her story again.
Vieve believed her without question. “Makes far more sense for the vampires to want to influence Dimity’s parents than old Ambrose’s excuse. Can’t understand why Lady Linette would believe him.”
Sophronia said, “This school has a vampire patron and a vampire teacher. Lady Linette wants to believe him. She wants to believe the potentate has control over the hives and that they aren’t kidnapping her students on a whim. I think Sister Mattie and Professor Braithwope, were he capable, are on our side. Captain Niall certainly is.”
“He would be. Werewolves always suspect vampires.” Vieve nodded gravely.
The sooties, after their conquest of the upper atmosphere, were mostly resting. A minimal crew kept the boilers at temperature—maintaining a steady position, heat for the residential sections, and power to the mechanicals.
The three girls dressed as boys clattered in and through the relative quiet without raising any suspicion. Even if two of them looked like an operatic take on bull-herding Spaniards.
Sophronia hoped Soap was also asleep; somehow she knew he’d be difficult if he found out what she was up to.
“Crikey, don’t you two look as fancy as fleas’ eyebrows!” said Soap, appearing behind her.
“Yes, well, it’s necessary.” Sophronia was short with her friend.
“Necessary? Those trousers are awful tight.” Soap’s eyes were wide. “Not that you don’t fill them out right, miss.” He lost his train of thought. “Oh, blast it.”
Sophronia came to his rescue. “We need to be able to cast doubt on a third party, in case we’re caught.”
“Caught doing what, exactly?” Soap demanded.
Vieve, little blabbermouth, answered him brightly, “Infiltrating a hive house.”
Soap’s dark eyes went worried. “Miss, is that a good idea?”
Sophronia gave up keeping him out of it. “No. It’s a dangerous, vampire-riddled mission, but they have kidnapped Dimity and Pillover.”
“I’m coming,” said Soap instantly.
“Now, Soap, you haven’t the training.” But Sophronia was already reconfiguring her plan to include him.
“And you aren’t finished with yours. At least I’ve experienced life.” The boy was already stripping out of his coal apron.
“Oh, very well. No time to argue. I’m worried about Dimity. She’s good but only in short bursts. Plus can you imagine her in a hive house? All that loose blood lying about.”
Soap said, “Coming, Vieve?”
Vieve shook her head. “Off-ship adventuring is not for me anymore. I’d sooner stay behind and provide the gadgets.”
Sophronia was relieved at that; she really would have had to put her foot down. At seventeen, Soap was grown and able to decide for himself. Vieve was too young to go breaking into vampire hives and too cheeky to take such things seriously.
The three went out the floor hatch, shimmying down the rope ladder.
“So,” said Soap, “where exactly are we going, and how do we get there?”
“My questions exactly,” said Captain Niall, coming up behind them out of the dark.
Sophronia looked at him expectantly. “Westminster Hive. Coming, sir?”
“Oh, really, young lady!” He had changed out of his evening dress to his customary greatcoat.
Sophronia blinked at him.
“Dressed like that?”
Blink, blink, blink.
“With a sootie and Lady Kingair?”
“Someone has to get Dimity and Pillover out, sir. And you can’t do it alone. Now can you?”
“Who said I—”
Sidheag interrupted. “He couldn’t do it regardless. The vampires would know the moment a wolf entered their hive.”
Sophronia made herself look expectant and wide-eyed. “But he can get us there. Sir, you have to help.”
“I do?”
“You believe me.”
“I do.” The werewolf was defeated by such logic.
“And you know where it is, don’t you?”
“I do.” Captain Niall sighed. “I’m going to get in a great deal of trouble for this. Very well, hop on.” With that, he changed form.
Werewolf change is an unpleasant thing to watch, and poor Soap had never seen it before. He yelped as the handsome captain went from being a fine specimen of manhood to a large, rangy wolf with a top hat tied to his head, squatting in a pool of fallen greatcoat.
Sophronia tried not to hear the way Captain Niall’s bones broke and knit back together with crunching noises. She tried not to see the way the man’s silky hair grew down and became fur, spreading like mold over his body.
Soap was quietly and efficiently sick behind a pile of cast-iron pilings. He bravely returned once the change was complete, although he was distinctly uncomfortable with the alteration. “Oh, miss, do we have to ride that?”
Sophronia, who had ridden a wolf only once before, pretended confidence. “It’s actually a pleasant way to travel.”
“I doubt that, miss.”