Curtsies & Conspiracies (Finishing School, #2)(36)

“Little bit of one, yes.”

The young man looked with interest at Sophronia’s opponents, one holding a collapsed Dimity, one bleeding from a gash to the arm, and the third bleeding from a wound to the back.

“My dear Ria, you hardly need my help.”

“Hardly.”

“Have I told you recently how much I admire a capable woman?” As he spoke, the young lord reached inside his coat and produced the most remarkable gadget. It wasn’t very big and was rather flat, which explained how he could keep it in his coat without upsetting the lines, but it was extremely evil looking. It was long and sharp with multiple attachments and a nozzle blackened from extruding some toxic substance. It looked highly flammable and quite deadly. Vieve would have been enthralled.

The ruffians were suitably impressed. They stopped.

“Put down the young lady,” said Felix.

The man holding Dimity hesitated.

Felix was an aristocrat and accustomed to instant obedience. “This moment!” He swung the weapon to aim at the man and Dimity. “I assure you, I am a very good shot. I will most certainly hit you, not her.”

“What is that thing?” quavered the ruffian.

“Oh, this?” Felix was casual. “This is a ballistic exploding steam missile fire prong. It’s my latest invention, and it’s very, very good at being deadly.”

That did it. The ruffian holding Dimity dropped her once more, and she flopped becomingly, like a sleeping princess from a fairy story.

The man who had been hurlied said to the other two, “We ain’t paid enough for this.”

The others apparently agreed. “Leave it.”

With little more to-do, the three ruffians dashed away into the forest.

Sophronia and Felix looked at each other.

“Nice prong,” said Sophronia after a moment.

Felix grinned and waggled his eyebrows lasciviously. “Thank you for saying so.”

Sophronia was instantly suspicious. “You mean that isn’t a ballistic exploding steam missile fire prong?”

“No such thing, my dear Ria, but it certainly sounds wicked, doesn’t it?”

“Then what is it?”

He handed the evil-looking object over. “Ah, a portable boot-blackening apparatus with pressure-controlled particulate emissions, and attached accoutrement to achieve the highest possible shine. For the stylish gentleman on the go.” He presented his own well-turned-out leg, proving that his boots were as shiny as could be, despite exposure to the outside environment.

Sophronia looked down the barrel of the thing and, accidentally, pulled the trigger. A fine mist of boot black hit her in the face, making her squeak, sputter, and drop the object.

She pulled out her handkerchief to repair the damage but left the apparatus where it lay in the leaves. “Automated shoe-shining kit?”

“Shoe-shining prong.” Felix picked it up and moved closer to her. “You are unhurt?”

Sophronia nodded, still trying to clean her face.

After a moment, Felix took the handkerchief away from her and began to tenderly remove all trace of the black. Sophronia submitted to his ministrations in a momentary lapse of training. Her mind went blank, and she couldn’t determine how to extricate herself from the intimacy. She was not prepared for tenderness.

A small cough and rustle of leaves interrupted the tête-à-tête.

Dimity was awake.

Sophronia grabbed her blackened handkerchief from Felix and ran to kneel next to her friend.

“What happened?” wondered Dimity.

“You fainted.”

“Yes, I know that.”

“And then Felix… uh… Lord Mersey came to our rescue with a shoe-shining kit.”

“Sophronia, have I told you recently that your explanations often lack a certain panache?”

“Well, you will keep fainting during the best bits.”

Felix ambled over. “How are you feeling, Miss Plumleigh-Teignmott?”

“Oh, perfectly topping, Lord Mersey. I’m always topping. And you?”

“Tolerably well. Shall we rejoin the rest of the party?”

“Jolly good idea,” said Dimity, accepting his hand up and his offer of an arm.

He offered his other arm to Sophronia. “Ria?”

Sophronia took it, not wishing to be churlish.

“Now, ladies, do we say anything of this to anyone?” he asked, not being trained by Mademoiselle Geraldine’s into the custom of never saying anything unless instructed otherwise.

“Of what, exactly?” wondered Sophronia.

“I fainted. I’ve no idea what you are on about,” added Dimity.

“Ah,” said Lord Mersey, “quite. I see,” just as if he did quite see.

Dimity and Sophronia looked at each other. Dimity nodded. Now, they both knew for certain that someone was after Dimity and Pillover. I hope their parents can shed some light on this situation, thought Sophronia. Or Dimity and I are going to have to take some seriously restrictive precautions. She was already planning ways to booby-trap their room of an evening.





THE SOOTIE CHALLENGE





Soap, where did you go after you let us off for the picnic?” Feeling she ought to take every advantage of the general befuddlement of a day spent groundside, Sophronia had decided to visit the boiler room that very night.