“Oh, no, really? And after the drones did such a lovely job with it.”
“We had to lock him somewhere, and that room has no windows.”
“I understand. But claw marks are murder on wallpaper.”
“Too true, Lady Maccon.”
Professor Lyall drifted away and, because he was Professor Lyall, managed to corral one of Lord Akeldama’s drones, just awakened, to help Lady Maccon dress.
Boots stuck his head in before catching sight of Lady Maccon still abed. The head instantly retreated and a back was presented in the doorway.
“Oh, dear me, most sorry, Lady M. Can’t be me. Couldn’t handle it a second time. Not that noble. I’ll go rustle up someone a little more suitable to assist you. Shall I? Be back in a jiff.”
Mystified, Alexia began the laborious process of squirming herself around and lurching by stages out of bed. She was just standing when Lord Akeldama came traipsing merrily into the room. “Top of the evening to you, my blooming marigold! My lovelorn little Boots said you could use a bit of twisting up, and I thought since I was awake I might avail myself of your delicious company and provide much-needed assistance simultaneously.”
Lord Akeldama himself was not yet properly dressed for the evening. His affected monocle was absent, as were the obligatory spots of rouge on his alabaster cheeks and the ridiculous spats about his ankles. Nevertheless, even in his least formal attire, Lord Akeldama excelled.
“But, my dear friend, your knees!”
He was wearing royal blue breeches of watered silk, a damask waistcoat of white and gold, and a quilted velvet smoking jacket ornamented with brandenbourgs. His trousers were of such very fine quality, Alexia was quite aghast that the vampire should even consider playing at lady’s maid, for he might have to kneel—on the floor!
“Oh, phooey, you know me, darling—always open to an adventure à la toilette.”
Lord Akeldama was a man who Lady Maccon very much doubted had had much to do with dressing—or undressing—ladies on a regular basis, yet he seemed more than equal to the task. In the early days of her pregnancy, Alexia might have managed it herself, rejecting her corset and selecting a carriage dress or some other gown that fastened up the front. However, at this point, she couldn’t even see her own feet, let alone touch them. So she acquiesced to this very strange new form of servant.
“I suppose it was courteous of Professor Lyall to think to send someone in. But really, if a gentleman who is not my husband is to see me bare, why not him?”
Lord Akeldama sashayed over to her, scooping up her underthings along the way. He tittered at the very idea. “Oh, my darling pea blossom, your professor might enjoy it a little too much. Like my poor Boots. And they are both gentlemen of principle.” His hands began nimbly dealing with ties and buttons.
“What could you possibly be implying, my lord?” Lady Maccon asked this from within a chemise partly stuck over her head.
The vampire pulled the fine muslin down and smoothed it out over her belly with a little pat. His other hand was on her naked arm, and the contact turned him human in that moment. His fine, sharp fangs vanished, his pale white skin flushed slightly peach, and his lustrous blond hair lost a mote of its brilliance. He grinned at her, his face more effeminate than ethereal. “La, honeysuckle, you are well aware that we here are all, in our own special way, deviants in our penchants.”
Lady Maccon thought about Lord Akeldama’s drawing room with all its gilt and tassels. Even knowing this was not the vampire’s point of reference, she nodded. “Oh, yes, I noticed.”
Lord Akeldama rarely shrugged, for this upset the fall of his jacket, but he looked as though he would have at this juncture. Instead, he flounced over to the side of the room where Alexia’s clothing hung on a long rack and began perusing various gowns, eyeing each with a discerning eye.
“Not that one,” said Alexia when he paused overlong, considering a green and gold stripe.
“No?”
“The décolletage is too low.”
“My dearest girl, this is a good design point, not a bad one. You should accentuate your best features.”
“No, honestly, my lord, these days I—how to put this?—overflow. It’s terribly incommodious.” Alexia made a kind of flip-forward gesture with both hands at her bosom area. Always substantial, that particular region had expanded to near scenic proportions over the last few months. Lord Maccon was delighted. Lady Maccon found it ridiculous. As if I weren’t well enough endowed to start with!
“Ah, yes. I do see your point, periwinkle.” He moved on.
“You were saying, about Professor Lyall?”
“What I mean to articulate, honey bee, is that there are levels of deviation. Some of us are, shall we say, more experimental than others in our tastes. In some, I believe it is a matter of boredom, in others it is nature, and for still others it is indifference.” The vampire’s tone of voice was filled with the usual airy flippancy, but Alexia had a feeling this was something he had studied much over the centuries. Also, Lord Akeldama never doled out information without good reason.
The vampire continued to prattle on as he sorted through her wardrobe without looking up at her, as though he were having a conversation with the dresses. “So few are lucky enough to love where they will. Or unlucky, I suppose.” Finally, he selected a walking outfit comprised of a ruffled purple skirt, cream blouse, and square cropped Spanish jacket in mauve. Despite the fact that there was very little trim, something about it clearly appealed to him. Alexia was delighted with this choice, as the outfit coordinated with one of her favorite hats, a little mauve bowler with a purple ostrich feather.