Etiquette & Espionage (Finishing School, #1)(13)

“Ladies!”

Monique colored becomingly. “Captain.”

“Winds are fierce this evening. Can’t float down for a pickup. You ladies will have to wait until after sunset, then I’ll give you a lift.”

“Oh.” Monique’s delicate little nose wrinkled. “Must we?”

The young man’s cheerful expression didn’t falter under the weight of her dissatisfaction. “Yes.”

“Oh, very well.” Monique gave the man her hand and he helped her down.

He did not turn to accompany her, instead looking inquiringly at Dimity and Sophronia. “Ladies. No time like the present.”

Dimity gathered up her little basket, also blushing furiously, and put her hand into the man’s large one.

He helped her down and returned for Sophronia. “Miss?”

Sophronia busily checked the cab for any forgotten items.

The young man observed this with a twinkle in his dark eyes. “Cautious girl.”

Sophronia didn’t dignify that with a reply. She hadn’t pinpointed the particulars yet, but there was something odd about this man, aside from his being adorable.

Outside, the wind was biting, and the great airship was even more impressive. The horses were restless, rolling their eyes and straining against their traces. The coachman fought to hold them. There seemed to be no reason for their panic. The young man strode forward to pay the driver. This only terrified the animals further. The coachman managed to take possession of his fare and keep hold of the reins, but only by dint of real skill. Then he turned his steeds around and let them have their way, careening across the heath at a breakneck speed.

Dimity sidled up to Sophronia and whispered, “Isn’t he simply scrumptious?”

Sophronia pretended obtuseness. “The coachman?”

“No, silly. Him!” Dimity tilted her head toward their new escort.

“He’s a little old, don’t you feel?”

Dimity considered the age of the young man. He was, perhaps, one-and-twenty. “Well, I suppose. But Monique doesn’t believe so. Look at her flirting! Shameless.”

The man and Monique were discussing the lack of luggage. With animated hand gestures, Monique described its loss, their recent attack, and their subsequent escape. She downplayed Sophronia’s part and accentuated her own. Sophronia would have defended herself, but there was something about the way Monique told the story that was about more than ego.

“She’s hiding something. Has been all along—and not only her real identity.”

“A brain?” Dimity suggested.

“And he isn’t wearing any shoes.”

“Oh, I say! You’re right. How peculiar.”

“And the horses were afraid of him. Every time he got close, they shied.”

“But why?”

“Perhaps they have equine standards—an abhorrence of bare feet.”

Dimity giggled.

The man, apparently tired of Monique’s tales, came to join them.

The older girl trailed behind him and finally remembered her manners. “Girls, this is Captain Niall.”

Dimity bobbed a curtsy. “Captain.”

Sophronia followed suit a second later with a much less tidy curtsy and a much less pleasant “Captain.”

Monique said, “Miss Dimity Plumleigh-Teignmott, full credentials, and Miss Sophronia Angelina Temminnick, covert recruit.” Her lip curled.

The man touched the brim of his top hat and bowed to each in turn.

Captain Niall had a nice smile, and Sophronia liked his boneless way of moving. But she had a sinking suspicion he wasn’t wearing a cravat under the greatcoat. Also, it looked as if his top hat was tied under his chin like a baby’s bonnet. Since she figured it might be rude to point out the man’s deficiencies in attire to his face, she said instead, “I do hope the coachman finds his way back to civilization safely.”

“Commendable conscientiousness, Miss Temminnick, but I shouldn’t trouble yourself.”

Behind them, the sun had completely set. The airship, drifting away, began to fade into the misty, purpled sky, becoming increasingly difficult to see.

“Back in a jiff.” The young captain ambled down a little gulley, disappearing behind a large rock.

The ladies could still see his top hat bobbing, but nothing else, and that only for a moment. The hat began to melt down and out of sight. Was he crouching? It was difficult to hear anything above the wind, and Sophronia’s ears were already starting to ache from exposure, but she thought she could detect a moan of pain.

Then, out from behind the rock, trotting up the gulley, came a massive wolf. A rangy beast with dark, mottled, black-and-brown fur and a fluffy, white-tipped tail.

Dimity let out of a squeak of alarm.

Sophronia froze, but only for a moment. Werewolf! said her brain, putting everything together in one split second. The lack of shoes. The full greatcoat. Now he was coming at them.

She turned and ran straight for the nearest coppice of trees, thinking only in terms of safety. She ignored Monique’s instructions

The werewolf leapt after her far faster than any normal wolf ever could. Not that Sophronia had ever met such a monster before. She had heard the rumors about supernatural speed and strength, but she had hardly given them credence. This werewolf proved all the fairy tales true. Before she had gone more than a few paces, he caught up to her and jumped over her head, twisting in midair and coming to rest facing her and blocking her path.