Curtsies & Conspiracies (Finishing School, #2)(26)

Pillover glanced up from his plate of sausage. “What a revolting spectacle.”

Sophronia privately agreed and contemplated breaking from her normal dietary routine and eating a sausage in order to cope.

Monique, mistress of the British Empire at that moment, seemed willing to gratify all sycophants. Most of the older girls, cronies of hers, were told right off that of course, she could not do without them in attendance. A few of the middle girls were told they might be allowed in, but the debuts—who shared her table and chambers—were left in suspense.

Preshea, at Monique’s right hand, smirked, anticipating an invite. “Can I pass you the butter, Monique? Would you care for a little more tea, Monique?”

Agatha looked terrified and Sidheag indifferent; they’d rather not be invited. Dimity kept glancing in Sophronia’s direction as if she wished they were on speaking terms so they could discuss this new kink in the workings of life.

Lord Dingleproops, Monique’s dining companion, paid her marked attention—to her evident enjoyment. Sophronia felt sorry for Dimity. Whatever false hopes he had once given her must now be crushed.

The ordeal of breakfast eventually ended. As they rose and made their way toward the exit, Sophronia snaked up behind her erstwhile best friend and whispered, “I shouldn’t be too upset. Lady Dimity Dingleproops sounds quite ridiculous, anyway.”

Dimity smothered a giggle and turned, eyes animated, prepared for a bit of a gossip—in that instant all ill feelings were forgotten. But Agatha, of all people, swooped in and linked arms with Dimity, practically dragging her away down the hall.


Through the course of that day, Monique became increasingly intolerable. She had Preshea and others running errands for her, bringing her little gifts. She would send one girl off and then make some snide comment about the poor thing’s appearance and lack of funds. Then she was all sugar when the girl returned, bearing a posy of violets or glass of barley water.

By the time Professor Braithwope’s etiquette class rolled around after sunset, everyone was beginning to show strain. The boys escorted the girls to the vampire’s door, but they had a lesson with Professor Shrimpdittle instead. Their presence made Monique worse. She latched herself onto Felix’s arm when he tried to leave her.

“Abandoning me to monsters, my lord?”

Felix chuckled. “Now, now, Miss Monique, I’m not so bad as all that. I never said they were monsters, only predators.”

“You’re so wise,” simpered Monique, still clutching.

Lady Linette paused in the hallway at the sight. “Miss Pelouse! How can you be so forward? Have you learned nothing? Lord Mersey, let go of her this instant!”

Felix lounged against the wall insolently, still attached to Monique. “I’m afraid, my lady, you must persuade her to let go of me.”

“It’s my ankle, Lady Linette. It’s feeling poorly,” professed Monique.

“Oh, is it? Should I send you to matron?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t trouble yourself. It isn’t that bad.”

“I’m certain it isn’t. Now, let go of the young viscount this moment and behave like a proper lady!”

Monique, pouting prettily, let go of Felix and marched into the vampire’s classroom with no sign of a limp. Felix made good his escape with a wink at Sophronia. Sophronia, smiling at both the rebuke and the wink, followed Monique.

Monique sat down on a fainting couch next to Preshea, and before anyone else could take the opportunity, Sophronia sat down on her other side. She wasn’t really planning anything; she only wanted to make the older girl uncomfortable.

Monique didn’t register Sophronia at first, engaged in an animated discussion with Preshea. The topic appeared to be Lord Dingleproops’s chin and whether its absence was all that important to the state of the Empire. When she turned to her left to find Sophronia sitting there primly, Monique twitched and made as if to rise.

But Professor Braithwope started class, so the blonde contented herself with turning her back on Sophronia. Sophronia had Bumbersnoot the reticule with her and placed him on the carpet behind her feet, well concealed by copious skirts.

If asked afterward, she would have explained, that there was no technical way to train a mechanical into any action outside its initial basic protocols. So it must have been without her knowledge that Bumbersnoot made his way from her skirts to Monique’s. She could never have known he would belch steam up the older girl’s drawers and deposit a pile of ash on her very expensive pink kid slippers. Never have known.

Monique got the most peculiar expression on her face and let out a muffled squawk.

She leapt to her feet and turned to glare at the obvious culprit. “Sophronia!”

Realizing that Bumbersnoot must have done something, Sophronia used her foot to shift him back to his starting position behind her own skirts and looked up innocently at the raging Monique.

Professor Braithwope whirled from where he was demonstrating entering and exiting a hive house with grace and concealed weaponry. He’d been using an arrangement of unstable top-hat boxes as steps and was not happy at being distracted. The act of whirling caused him to go through the side of one of the hatboxes in a manner most clumsy for a vampire.

“Sit down this moment, Miss Pelouse!” he barked.

“But Sophronia squirted steam up my drawers!”