Etiquette & Espionage (Finishing School, #1)(56)

“Student, whot? By George, how’d you get into this section without setting off the alarms?”

“That’s not important, sir.”

“No, I think it might be.”

“Not now, sir. There is a problem, please, sir. It’s Captain Niall.”

“Werewolf, whot? What’s that to do with your getting into restricted areas of the school without a chaperone?”

“No, sir, he’s loose.”

“Of course he’s loose. Loose and leagues away, as he should be.”

“No, sir, he’s here.”

“On the ship, whot? Not possible. Werewolves don’t float.”

“No, sir, below. He’s here, on the moor, directly below, and the others should be returning from the theater soon. I saw him out my window.”

“Girlish fancies.”

“That’s possible, sir, but wouldn’t it be better to check and make certain?”

“Whot, whot? Yes, well. I suppose you’re right.”

“Quickly, sir. They’re due back at any moment.”

“Yes, yes. Where’s my hat?”

The vampire vanished for a split second and then pushed his way out into the hallway.

He was looking a tad disheveled, but he’d pulled on a greatcoat and buttoned it closed to disguise any possible fashion transgressions, and he had boots on his feet, which was more than might be said of a werewolf. Sophronia wasn’t certain, but she believed she might be coming down in favor of vampires as a general rule.

“Where is the blighter?”

“Below the boiler room area, sir. Last I saw.”

“Miss Temminnick.” The vampire tipped his hat and then sped away.

There was no point in even trying to keep up; he moved faster than any human co s and then suld.

Oh, great, thought Sophronia. Now how am I supposed to get back to my quarters?

Vieve’s head reappeared around a bend in the hall. “Need a helping hand, or should I say wrist?” She waved the arm with the obstructor.

Sophronia grinned.


“So there we were, in all our evening’s finery, coming up the path toward the ship, and you will never guess what we observed! It was almost more exciting than the play itself. Although it was a very stirring performance of An Ideal Bathtub.” Dimity’s eyes were shining, her hands clasped together passionately, as she was thrust into the wondrousness of reliving the evening recently passed.

Sophronia, only slightly smudged, in a clean pinafore and her second-best set of petticoats, pretended rapt attention.

They were seated tête-à-tête on the settee while the other girls milled about, nattering about the finery of dress, the play, and the handsomeness of some boy or another—not necessarily in that order.

“Oh, what did you see?”

“Professor Braithwope, in a greatcoat!”

“Presumably he owns outerwear.”

Dimity left off clasping her hands to fiddle at something hanging about her neck.

Sophronia leaned forward. “Dimity, are you wearing two necklaces?”

“I couldn’t decide. But don’t distract me. Where was I?”

“On Professor Braithwope’s greatcoat.”

“Oh, yes. Don’t you believe greatcoats are rather a werewolf’s provenance? Not to mention the fact that vampires aren’t supposed to feel the cold. Anywho, where was I? Oh, yes. Professor Braithwope and his greatcoat were fighting a werewolf! Captain Niall!”

“Oh, how horrid.” Sophronia arranged her features into an appropriately shocked expression. Or what she hoped was appropriately shocked. She wasn’t doing very well in her acting lessons so far. I probably look more like a stuffed squirrel.

Dimity didn’t appear to think so. “Unfortunately, I didn’t see very much of the confrontation.”

“Was the exchange of fisticuffs that rapid? Supernatural speed, I understand.” Sophronia nodded wisely.

“Oh, no, there was blood, so I fainted.”

Preshea came over and stood before them, hands on hips, in nothing but her stays and drawers. So immodest!

“Sidheag caught her. Such a shame, Dimity, that you hadn’t arranged to faint earlier in the evening, when young Lord Dingleproops was paying you so much attention.”

Dimity blushed. “His parents are friends of the family, that is all!”

Sophronia ignored Preshea and looked to the other girls to continue the story where Dimity had fainted out of it. “What happened with the fisticuffs?”

“Not so many fists, actually. More fang and claw,” said Agatha.

“Very well, what happened with the fangicuffs, then?”

“Oh Sophronia, you’re so droll.” Dimity prodded her playfully with one thumb.

Sidheag only smiled dryly and retreated. Monique was pointedly absorbed in exam sorblly with oining a small tear in the trim of one sleeve, and Preshea turned away to do her hair in rags for the night.

Agatha came timidly to Sophronia’s rescue. “Mademoiselle Geraldine also fainted. That freed Lady Linette to order some of the older girls into covert action. They’ve had lessons in group tactics for coordinated social rebuttal. She had them do the fan and sprinkle maneuver, to good effect.”

“Fan and sprinkle?”