Etiquette & Espionage (Finishing School, #1)(60)

“What are you—?” The Scotswoman was clearly startled.

So was Dimity, who, with a little eep! noise, followed.

Sophronia braced herself, put her hands on her hips, and faced Lady Kingair. Mademoiselle Geraldine’s did not encourage unequivocal confrontation under any circumstances. But Sophronia had a feeling that it was necessary with Sidheag.

“You must stop being so afraid of us,” she said.

Of all the things Sidheag had been expecting, this was clearly not one of them. The taller girl actually sputtered. Finally she managed, “Afraid? Afraid!”

“Sophronia, what are you doing?” hissed Dimity, backing away from both girls.

“Sidheag, whether you like it or not, you are stuck here for years. Slouching about like a grump won’t get you anywhere. You might as well learn what is being taught and attempt to get along with some of us.”

“It’s all chattering behind one another’s backs. I dinna ken how females manage it.”

Dimity said, timidly, “Like it or not, Sidheag, you are actually a girl.”

“For my sins.”

Sophronia had an idea. Perhaps Sidheag simply wants to be included in something. With a guilty look at Dimity, she asked, “How good are you at climbing, Lady Kingair?”

Sidheag was startled by the change of topic. “Do ya ken that’s what I mean? Why ask me an obscure question? Why not tell me forthright what you think we should do and why it might help?”

Sophronia wondered, what with Vieve skulking about, how she ended up at a finishing school surrounded by girls who would rather be boys. Well, except Dimity, of course.

Dimity said, even though the conversation had already moved on, “What’s wrong with liking girly things? I like petticoats and dancing and perfume and hats and brooches and necklaces and—” Her eyes glazed over slightly as she contemplated sparkles.



She seemed likely to continue in this vein for some time, so Sophronia interrupted her. “I have someone I think you should meet, Sidheag. By way of a coal supplier.”

Dimity blinked. “How could coal possibly help, Sophronia? Are you cracked?”

“Have faith, Dimity. Well, Sidheag, can you climb?”

“Of course.”

“Tonight, then?”


Which was how Sophronia ended up introducing Lady Kingair to a group of sooties.

“Good evening, miss!” Soap grinned at her as she climbed up through the hatch. She’d tried to visit once every other week ever since the school had gone to gray. Soap, as a result, was only becoming more and more familiar, and more and more captivating. Sophronia would rather she didn’t enjoy his company so much—he was so very dirty, and so very unsuitable, and so very boy, but there it was: liking him couldn’t be helped.

“Good evening, Soap, how’s the boiler room treating you?”

“Topping, miss, topping! You’ve brought a friend. You’ve never brought a friend afore now. I figured you didn’t have any. Save us, a’course.” He chuckled.

“This here is Miss Maccon. Sidheag, this is Soap, and these are the sooties.” Sophronia made a wide gesture to include both the small collective hovering around Soap and the others scurrying back and forth behind him. She didn’t give out Sidheag’s title, afraid Soap and the others might be cowed by rank.

Sidheag didn’t object to the demotion. She’d climbed up through the hatch and inside and was looking around with eyes as big as saucers. “What is this place?”

“Boiler room, miss. Ain’t it grand? Lifeblood of the ship down ’ere. How-d’ye-do? I’m Phineas B. Crow. But most calls me Soap.”

Sidheag grinned at him. A real grin, with no caution or stiffness to it. That’s more like it, thought Sophronia.

While Soap pointed out the wonders of the boiler room to their new visitor with great pride, Sophronia turned to the other sooties. She emptied her pockets of the treats and nibbles she’d filched at high tea the day before, passing them out to the waiting group. It had taken her a few visits to realize the sooties were not, in fact, fed so well as the students, instead subsisting mainly on porridge, bread, and stew.

She pretended to be fully absorbed in distributing tiny lemon tarts so that Soap could work his inexplicable charm on Sidheag. No one could help but like Soap. Anyone not immediately set against him for the color of his skin or his station in life was bound to enjoy his company. And Sidheag might be many things, but Sophronia didn’t think her particularly bigoted.

The tarts were Dimity’s idea of reform. Sophronia had agreed to distribute them to the sooties so long as Dimity agreed not to try anything else altruistic. Nevertheless, Dimity had watched her creep out that night with an expression that was part fear and part jealousy. “Why take Sidheag, but not me?”

“But Dimity, you can’t climb.”

“I could try!”

“And you don’t like getting dirty.”

“I could wear my oldest dress.”

“And you aren’t interested in boiler rooms.”

“But they clearly need my help! If I am to be a proper {o b1"> lady I must practice charitable endeavors as soon as possible. I want to be good.”

“Be sensible instead!”

Dimity had only pouted.

So Sophronia was stuck passing out lemon tarts. She was paying so little attention to Sidheag and Soap that when the scuffle started, it took her a moment to react. They were fighting! Oh, no, did I misjudge Sidheag?