Etiquette & Espionage (Finishing School, #1)(14)

Sophronia crashed right into him and fell to her back on the rough grass, winded.

Before she could rise, a massive paw descended onto her chest, and a vicious wolf face appeared above her—black nose damp and teeth bared. The face descended and… nothing.

Sophronia screwed her eyes shut and turned her head away, waiting for the deathblow to come from his other massive paw, or for those glistening canines to close about her neck.

Still nothing.

I guess I’m not dead. She cautiously opened her eyes to look up into the wolf’s yellow ones. They crinkled at her, and the beast lolled out his tongue, grinning. His massive, sweeping tail brushed back and forth behind him. She noticed then, much to her shock, that the top hat was still tied securely to his head.

This incongruity served to calm her as nothing else could have. Later, Sophronia was to wonder if this was the reason Captain Niall always wore a top hat, even when he changed—to put people at ease. Or if he believed that, whatever the form, a gentleman should never be without his hat.

She made to sit up. When he refused to let her, she said, “I won’t run again. I’m sorry. You startled me. I’ve never met a werewolf before.”

With a small nod, he backed away.

Dimity offered Sophronia a helping hand up. “Sophronia’s parents are conservatives,” she explained to the creature. She moved cautiously, suggesting that she, too, was unfamiliar with werewolves, for all her progressive upbringing. Or perhaps that is the way one is supposed to behave around them. Sophronia decided to take her cues from her new friend, and stood very slowly.

Monique minced over. “If you are quite done making a fool of yourself, Covert?”

Sophronia snapped back, “I wouldn’t want to make a promise I couldn’t keep.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. I’d better go first, Captain. Show them how it’s done.”

The wolf nodded his furry, top-hatted head.

Then Monique de Pelouse did the most remarkable thing. She sat down sidesaddle on top of the werewolf’s back, as though he were a Shetland pony.

“One holds on, like so,” she explained officiously, burying her hands in the wolf’s thick neck ruff. “Then one leans forward as much as possible.”

Sophronia thought she heard the girl’s stays creak.

The werewolf trotted off, gaining speed until he was nothing but a blur racing across the heath toward the floating school.

Sophronia squinted, trying to follow his movements. He leapt impossibly high into the air, toward the ship. He was a supernatural creature, and clearly very powerful, but even werewolves couldn’t fly. It became clear, however, that he didn’t intend to, for he appeared to have landed mif yve landdair.

“Must be some kind of platform,” said Dimity.

Sophronia nodded. “Suspended on long cords, perhaps?”

Monique dismounted, and Captain Niall jumped down and came racing back to them.

He looked expectantly at Dimity.

Dimity glanced at Sophronia and said, “Oh, dear.”

Sophronia smiled. “If you’re afraid of falling, you could ride astride. It’s much easier to hang on to a horse that way.”

Dimity looked affronted at the very idea.

“It was only a suggestion.”

“You’re very calm.”

Sophronia shrugged. “I’m overburdened by strange occurrences at the moment. I’ll go next, if you like.”

Dimity looked relieved and gestured expansively with one hand.

Sophronia climbed onto the werewolf. Her mother would have had hysterics—leaving aside the whole werewolf steed aspect—at the very idea that a daughter of hers would ride astride! Sophronia merely wrapped both her arms and legs about the wolf. “I’m ready.” His fur smelled of hay, sandalwood, and pork sausages.

He started slowly, accustoming her to his gait—which was not at all like that of a horse!—then picked up speed. Sophronia hunkered down, watching the grass and rocks rush by beneath them. They neared the airship, and with a tremendous bunching of haunches and a surge of power, Captain Niall leapt into the air.

For a brief, glorious moment, Sophronia felt as close to flying as she ever would. The wind lifted her hair and dress; the emptiness of space surrounded her; the ground was far below. Then the werewolf touched down lightly onto a small platform beside a bored-looking Monique.

Sophronia climbed off. “Thank you, sir, most enjoyable.”

Captain Niall jumped back down to collect Dimity.

As Monique was ignoring her, Sophronia examined the workings of the platform. It was made of thick glass, hollowed on the inside like a box, and hung on four chains. These were looped about pulleys at each corner, which meant the whole thing could be raised and lowered as one unit.

She craned her neck, but saw neither hole nor docking structure in the underside of the airship.

A distant shrieking, getting louder and louder, heralded Dimity’s arrival.

As soon as they landed, Dimity stopped screaming—embarrassed—and dismounted. Then she sat down on the platform abruptly.

Monique laughed.

Sophronia hurried to her friend’s side. “Are you unwell?”

“My nerves are a little shaky, I must confess. No, please, leave me until I recover the use of my knees. That was a tad overwhelming.”

“I thought it was quite a wheeze.”