Curtsies & Conspiracies (Finishing School, #2)(81)

Sophronia’s group burst out of the front door of the hive house and ran down the street pell-mell. Dimity brought up the rear, as she was overburdened with a fluffy ball gown and a recent faint.

Captain Niall, still a wolf, bounded toward them. His attached top hat tilted coquettishly.

“Please, get Dimity and Pillover to safety,” said Sophronia to the werewolf. “Sidheag, you, too. No point in all of us getting into trouble.”

Without protest, the three climbed up onto Captain Niall’s furry back. Behind them, a host of people poured forth from the hive, the likes of which had never been seen in the neighborhood before. The group included Picklemen, disheveled and covered in soot; Madame Spetuna, who seemed to be doing her best to trip everyone up; the Duke of Hematol, a vampire without hat or jacket; and a goodly collection of frantic drones. The queen herself, of course, could not leave the hive.

Captain Niall should have sprung away at that juncture, but he did not. He growled at Sophronia and Soap, who stood alone on the pavement. Soap clutched Bumbersnoot in his arms.

Sidheag explained the werewolf’s behavior, “He won’t leave anyone behind. It’s not the military way.”

“We don’t fit!” protested Sophronia.

“I’ve an idea,” said Dimity, hopping back off and pulling down her petticoat right there in a public street. She’s come a long way, has Dimity, thought Sophronia proudly.

Dimity handed the stiff horsehair garment to Sophronia. “Use this as a sling.” She climbed back on.

With a shrug, Sophronia and Soap sat down in the street on top of the skirt. Embarrassed by her own temerity, Sophronia curled about her tall friend, Bumbersnoot between them, wrapping up in the big purple petticoat like a cocoon.

Soap said, “I’ll get you all over with soot, miss,” clearly mortified by such intimacy.

“That’s all right, Soap. It’s Preshea’s jacket and Sidheag’s clothes.”

Captain Niall gathered up the edges in his teeth and levered. They were only a hairbreadth above the ground, but it was enough.

Thus burdened, the werewolf leapt away, looking more ridiculous than he ever had or ever would again in all his long life.


Duke Hematol, being a vampire, might have caught up to them. But fair sportsmanship must be considered. Technically, they had gotten away, right and proper. Plus the duke was not the kind of man to go running after anyone through the streets of London without his coat and hat. Lord Ambrose might have followed, but he was still at Monique’s ball. If Hematol had given chase, Captain Niall would have been required to fight him, and that would have been far too messy. Why involve the werewolves in such a shameful business? It was, in the end, impolite to borrow another man’s children. So the Duke of Hematol returned to his queen empty-handed.

Consequently, the overburdened werewolf attained the safety of Mademoiselle Geraldine’s without incident. His passengers tumbled off his back, or out of the petticoat sling, and then climbed up the rope ladder with a collective sense of giddy freedom.

“I cannot believe that worked,” said Sidheag, her Scottish accent broadened by shock.

“Do you two have any idea how ridiculous you look?” said Dimity, still appalled by the dandy outfits.

“That was jolly,” said Soap, grinning widely and hoisting Dimity’s purple petticoat over one shoulder.

Vieve was waiting for them. “What happened? Tell me all!”

“Well,” said Dimity, “where to start? I was held hostage by a vampire queen!” She and Pillover and Sidheag all began talking at once and on top of one another, detailing the events of the last few hours.

Sophronia stood silent, clutching her mechanimal reflexively to her breast.

Soap shuffled over to her. “Are you well, miss?”

Sophronia was embarrassed to find herself shaking.

“Oh, now, miss.” Soap put his arm about her, awkwardly patting her back. As if she hadn’t just spent a sling ride wrapped about him like a streetside doxy. “There, there.”

Sophronia turned her attention on Bumbersnoot. She was enjoying Soap’s comforting embrace too much for her own peace of mind. She’d liked it in the sling, too. He did have very nice muscles. And he smelled good under all that soot. To distract herself, she mock chided the mechanimal. “Bumbersnoot, you horrible creature! Premature exploding is not done!”

Ticktock, ticktock went Bumbersnoot’s tail, back to normal speed.

“Oh, now, miss, he did his best,” Soap joined in.

“Thank you for rescuing him, by the way.”

“Thank him with a kiss,” suggested Sidheag, coming over. She had left the storytelling to Dimity and Pillover and was watching Sophronia and Soap through narrowed yellow eyes.

Sophronia tried to back out of Soap’s embrace, but his arm tightened. She looked up in confusion. His laughing brown eyes were unusually serious.

“Go on,” encouraged Sidheag.

Sophronia stood up on tiptoe, intending to peck him on the cheek.

Soap leaned in, grabbing her chin gently, and kissed her. A proper kiss, on the lips.

Sophronia blinked and sputtered. His lips were very soft.

Sidheag said, “Excellent.”

“Good night, miss,” said Soap, and before Sophronia could recover her faculties, he wisely scampered off. This left Sophronia with one hand pressed to tingling lips and no plan, for once in her life.