The Parasol Protectorate Boxed Set (102 page)

Lord Akeldama did not take the hint. “Oh, yes?”

“Felicity has joined the National Society for Women's Suffrage,” Alexia said placidly.

The vampire proved instantly helpful. “Oh, yes? I understand Lord Ambrose is a frequent contributor.”

Alexia nodded her understanding at last. “Lord Ambrose, is it? Oh, Felicity, you do realize he is a vampire?”

Miss Loontwill tossed her curls. “Well, yes, but an
eligible
vampire.” She glanced at Lord Akeldama from under her lashes. “And I am getting ever so old!”

He was instantly sympathetic. “Of course you are. You are already what? All of eighteen?”

Miss Loontwill sallied on. “But then I was quite taken with the rhetoric.”

Alexia supposed a young lady so swayed by the Parisian fashion papers might be persuaded by a decent oratory display.

Felicity continued. “Why shouldn't we women vote? After all, it's not as though the gentlemen have done so wondrous a job
of things with their stewardship. I do not intend to offend, my lord.”

“No offense taken, my little
buttercup.
”

Uh-oh,
thought Alexia,
Felicity has been given an epithet. Lord Akeldama likes her.

The vampire continued. “I find such struggles adorably commendable.”

Felicity began pacing about in a manner Alexia had to admit not unlike her own good self when seized with a particularly inspired
argument. “My point precisely. Don't you want the vote, Alexia? You cannot be content to allow that buffoonish husband of
yours to speak for you in matters political. Not after the way he has behaved in the past.”

Alexia declined to mention at this juncture that she already had the vote, and it was one of only three on Queen Victoria's
Shadow Council. Such a vote as this counted a good deal more than any popular ballot might. Instead, she spoke a different
truth. “I have never given the matter much thought. But this still does not explain how you have ended up on Lord Akeldama's
doorstep.”

“Yes, little snowdrop.” Lord Akeldama took up a perch on the arm of the settee, watching Felicity as a parrot might watch
a drab little sparrow that had strayed into his domain.

Miss Loontwill took a deep breath. “It is really not my fault. Mama did not endorse my endeavors with regards to Lord Ambrose.
So I have been liberating myself from the house after bedtime by means of the servant's entrance. You used to have some success
with this approach, Alexia. Don't think I didn't know. I believed I could accomplish such a thing undetected.”

Alexia was beginning to understand. “But you miscalculated. I had help. Floote's help. I cannot imagine Swilkins being sympathetic
to the Ambrose cause.”

Felicity grimaced in agreement. “No, you are perfectly correct. I did not realize how vital the approbation of one's butler
is in allowing for nocturnal autonomy.”

“So let us get to the crux of the matter. Has Mama tossed you out?”

Felicity got that look on her face that said whoever was at fault in this scenario it was probably Felicity. “Not exactly.”

“Oh, Felicity, you didn't. You walked out?”

“I thought, since you were taking a house in town, perhaps I might come to stay with you for a little while. I
understand the company will not be nearly so refined or elegant as that to which I am accustomed, but…”

Lord Akeldama's forehead creased ever so slightly at
that
statement.

Lady Maccon cogitated. She would like to encourage this new spirit of social-mindedness. If Felicity needed anything in her
life, it was a cause. Then she might stop nitpicking everyone else. But if she stayed with them, she would have to be taken
into their confidence regarding the living arrangements. And there was another thing to consider. Should Felicity be exposed
to a werewolf pack in all its ever-changing and overexposed glory while still unmarried?
This is the last thing I need right now. I can't even see my own feet anymore. How can I see that my sister is properly chaperoned?
Alexia had found pregnancy relatively manageable, up to a point. That point having been some three weeks ago, at which juncture
her natural reserves of control gave way to sentimentality. Only yesterday she had ended breakfast sobbing over the fried
eggs because they
looked at her funny.
The pack had spent a good half hour trying to find a way to pacify her. Her husband was so worried he looked to start crying
himself.

Alexia copped out, embarrassed to have to do so in front of Lord Akeldama. “I shall have to consult my husband on the subject.”

The vampire jumped in with alacrity. “You could stay here with me, little bluebell.”

Felicity brightened. “Oh, why—”

Lady Maccon put her foot down. “Absolutely not.” Of all the people Felicity should not be overexposed to, it was Lord Akeldama,
on the basis of cattiness alone. If left
together for too long, the two of them might actually take over the civilized world, through sheer application of snide remarks.

A tap sounded on the drawing room door.

“Now what?” wondered Alexia.

“Come in! We are unquestionably
at home,
” sung out Lord Akeldama.

The door opened and Boots and Biffy entered. Both were looking dapper and well put together as behooved a current and former
drone of Lord Akeldama's, although Biffy had a certain aura that Boots lacked. Biffy was still the same pleasant-mannered
fellow with a partiality for modish attire and the figure to show it off, but something had altered. There was a slight smudge
on his cheekbone that no drone of Lord Akeldama's would ever show to his master. However, seeing the two stand together, Alexia
didn't think it was entirely the smudge's fault. There was no vampire sophistication to Biffy anymore—no high-society shine,
no sharpened edge. Instead he sported a slight air of embarrassment that Alexia suspected all werewolves felt deep down. It
sprung from the certain knowledge that once a month he would get naked and turn into a slavering beast whether he liked it
or not.

Lord Akeldama's inquisitive expression did not waver.
“Darlings!”
he said to the two of them, as though he had not seen them in years. “What exciting tidbits have you brought me?”

Miss Loontwill looked with interest at the two young men. “Oh,” she said, “I remember you! You helped my sister plan her nuptials.
You had that marvelous idea about a groom's cake. Stylish, two cakes. Especially for my sister's wedding—she is so very fond
of food.”

Biffy knew his duty and hurried forward to bow over Felicity's proffered hand. “Sandalio de Rabiffano, at your service, miss.
How do you do?”

Alexia, who until that moment had never before heard Biffy's real name, gave Lord Akeldama a startled look. The vampire stood
and wandered innocently over to her chair. “Spectacularly Spanish, wouldn't you say? Moorish blood some ways back.”

She nodded sagely.

Biffy returned Felicity's hand. “I cannot take credit for the cake, miss. It's an odd little American custom.”

Felicity flirted outrageously. “Oh, well, we won't tell anyone
that,
now, will we? Are you still in Lord Akeldama's employ?”

A brief flash of hurt passed over Biffy's pleasant face. “No, miss. I've been transferred to your sister's household.”

Miss Loontwill clearly thought this a most beneficial arrangement. “Oh, have you,
indeed
?”

Alexia interrupted any continued flirtation. “Felicity, go next door and wait for me in the front parlor. Order tea if you
must. When my husband returns, I'll discuss your request with him.”

Felicity opened her mouth again.

“Now, Felicity.” Lady Maccon was at her most dictatorial.

Much to everyone's surprise, including Felicity's, Felicity went.

Lord Akeldama tilted his head at Boots and gave a little nod after the retreating girl. With no verbal exchange required,
Boots trotted obediently after Felicity. Biffy looked on wistfully. Alexia surmised that he was not yearning for Felicity's
continued company but was regretting
the fact that he could no longer obey Lord Akeldama's commands.

She brought him back around sharply. No sense in letting him dwell. “Biffy, did you have something to tell me or Lord Akeldama?”

“You, my lady. I am pleased to report that you have been successfully moved. The new house awaits your perusal and, hopefully,
approval.”

“Excellent! I should—Oh wait. Lord Akeldama, I keep meaning to ask. And while I'm in your company, if I may?”

“Yes, my little
syllabub
?”

“Do you recall, I was describing those porcupines to you? Or overgrown hedgehogs, or whatever their species inclination, from
several nights ago? I was thinking, they were also ever so slightly vampiric in propensity. Their speed and their old dark
blood and their susceptibility to the lapis solaris. Is that possible, do you think—vampire porcupines?”

Lord Akeldama's eyes lit with amusement. “Oh, my dearest girl, what
will
you think of next? Weregoats? Be on your guard, for at full moon they shall creep into your coat closet and eat up all your
shoes!”

Biffy hid a smile.

Alexia was not in the mood to be mocked.

Lord Akeldama recovered his much-vaunted poise. “My darling
toffee button,
you can be quite the widgeon upon occasion. Animals do not have souls. How could they possibly? Next thing you know, I'll
be petitioning Countess Nadasdy to bite old fatty there so I can have company into my dotage.” He gestured to his cat. The
chubby creature had delusions of being a vicious hunter but could never master anything more taxing than a pillow tassel.
Or, on
one recent and memorable occasion, one of Ivy's hats. Lady Maccon shuddered at the recollection. Why had she thought she could
bring Ivy to tea with a vampire? Her dearest friend may have taken to the stage of late, but she was still not ready for intimate
exposure to Lord Akeldama's brand of drama. Nor was Lord Akeldama entirely capable of withstanding intimate exposure to one
of Ivy's hats. After that tea, Alexia had been forced to admit that Lord Akeldama and Ivy Tunstell were like plaid and brocade,
utterly incompatible even in complementary colors.

At which juncture someone else came into Lord Akeldama's drawing room, only this time without announcement of any kind save
a minor bellow.

“Good gracious me,” said Lord Akeldama, sounding like some dowager countess of old Georgian inclination. “What has my house
become? Charring Cross Station?”

Biffy looked to Lady Maccon, resplendent in her tentlike gown of eyelet lace and blue satin bows. “More akin to a dirigible
landing green, I should think, my lord.”

Alexia, who found her condition even more ridiculous than anyone else, was moved to smile at such a comparison. She had, of
late, been feeling inflated.

Lord Akeldama chuckled softly. “Ah, Biffy, I have missed you, my dove.”

The individual who had entered, unannounced and unbidden, observed this exchange with a frown.

Lord Akeldama turned upon him with mild censure in his sharp blue eyes. “Lord Maccon, if you are to stay here, and I believe
that
is settled for the moment, we really must train you in the fine art of knocking before entering a room.”

The earl was gruff in his embarrassment. “Oh, yes.
Upon occasion, I find it hard to remember details of etiquette.” He swirled his cloak off. It landed on the back of a side
chair before sliding off and falling to the floor.

Lord Akeldama shuddered.

“Lord Akeldama. Wife. Pup.” Lord Maccon nodded. His tawny eyes concerned, he moved to bend over Alexia. “Everything still
corked up?” he asked her in one ear.

“Yes, yes, don't fuss, Conall.” Alexia would have none of it.

“Everything else squared away?”

“I was just about to perform the inspection. Hoist me up, would you, please?”

The earl grinned, braced himself, and offered her one massive hand. Alexia grasped it in both of hers and he levered. At her
preternatural touch, he lost supernatural strength, but he was still powerful enough to handle Alexia—even in her inflated
dirigible state.

“We will have to be
seen
going next door, I suppose. And we will have to determine a way to sneak back into this house later tonight.”

“Such skulking and folderol, all for the sake of appearances,” grumbled Lord Maccon.

Alexia bristled. She'd been through quite a hellish time when her husband had booted her from his bed and company. Society
had ostracized her all because she
appeared
to have been indiscreet. “Appearances are everything!”

“Hear,
hear,
” agreed Lord Akeldama.

“Very well, wife. We must determine how to get you from our balcony to Lord Akeldama's.”

He wore an expression Alexia suspected greatly. She glared at him. “You will find me a gangplank, thank you very much. I will
not be flung, husband.”

Lord Maccon looked a tad surprised at that. “Did I indicate I intended any such activity?”

“No, but I
know
how you get.”

Conall was nonplussed by such an unwarranted accusation.

Alexia continued. “Oh, yes, and I should warn you. There's a surprise waiting for us in our new front parlor.”

Lord Maccon grinned wolfishly. “Is it a nice surprise?”

“Only if you're in a very good mood,” hedged his wife.

*   *   *

The ghost was in that space again, that insubstantial void. She thought she might float there forever if she could simply
stay still. Still as death.

But reality intruded. Reality from her own mind, however little of it was left. “You have to tell someone. You have to tell
them. This is wrong. You are mad and yet even you know this is wrong. Put a stop to it. You have to tell.”