Miss Tarabotti peeked out her window directly after she had dressed for bed. She was not certain what it said about her lifestyle that she found it immensely comforting to see an enormous wolf, his brown coat brindled gold and gray, pacing the back alley below her room.
***
“Lord Maccon did what?” Miss Ivy Hisselpenny set her gloves and beaded reticule down with a clatter onto the hall table of the Loontwills' entranceway.
Miss Tarabotti ushered her friend into the front parlor. “Keep your voice down, my dear. And please, for goodness' sake, remove that bonnet. It's positively scorching my eyeballs.”
Ivy did as requested, staring at her friend all the while. She was so surprised by what she had just heard; she did not even have the capacity to take obligatory offense at Alexia's customary hat-related abuse.
Floote appeared with a heavy-laden tray and plucked the bonnet out of Miss Hisselpenny's grasp. He held the offensive article—a purple velvet affair covered with yellow flowers and a large stuffed guinea fowl—between thumb and forefinger and retreated out of the room. Miss Tarabotti closed the door firmly behind him... and the bonnet.
Mrs. Loontwill and the young lady-twills were out shopping, but they were due back at any moment. It had taken Ivy eons to gather momentum that morning, and now Alexia could only hope they remained uninterrupted for sufficient time to cover all the necessary gossip.
She poured raspberry cordial.
“Well!” insisted Miss Hisselpenny, sitting down in a wicker chair and fixing one curl of her dark hair absent-mindedly.
Alexia passed her a glass of cordial and said flatly, “You heard correctly. I said that Lord Maccon kissed me last night.”
Miss Hisselpenny did not touch the beverage, so prodigious was her shock. Instead she set her glass down on a small side table for safety's sake and leaned forward as much as her corset would allow. “Where?” She paused. “Why? How? I thought you disliked him most intensely.” She frowned, her dark brows creasing. “I thought he disliked you most intensely.”
Miss Tarabotti sipped her cordial, being poised and cagey. She did so like to torture Ivy. She relished the expression of avid curiosity on her friend's face. On the other hand, she was also itching to tell all.
Miss Hisselpenny peppered her further. “What exactly happened? Spare me no detail. How did it come to pass?”
“Well, it was a cold night, but there was still one last dirigible in the sky. Floote helped me sneak out the back and—”
Ivy groaned, “Alexia!”
“You said spare no detail.”
Ivy gave her a dour look.
Miss Tarabotti smiled. “After I went to see the hive queen, someone tried to abduct me.”
Ivy's jaw dropped. “What!”
Alexia passed her a plate of shortbread, drawing out the suspense. Miss Hisselpenny waved it away frantically. “Alexia, this is torment!”
Miss Tarabotti ceded to her friend's nervous constitution. “Two men tried to abduct me in a fake hackney cab as I left the hive house. It was actually somewhat frightening.”
Ivy remained silent and enthralled while Alexia detailed the attempted abduction. Eventually she said, “Alexia, you should report this to the constabulary!”
Miss Tarabotti poured them more raspberry cordial from the cut-glass decanter. “Lord Maccon is the constabulary or, more properly, BUR's form thereof. He is keeping an eye on me in case they try again.”
Miss Hisselpenny was even more intrigued by this bit of news. “Is he? Really? Where?”
Alexia led her to the window. They looked out onto the road. A man stood on the street corner leaning against a gas lantern post, his eyes firmly fixed on the Loontwills' front entranceway. He was vaguely disreputable-looking, wearing a long tan duster and the most ridiculous wide-brimmed John Bull hat. It looked like something favored by American gamblers.
“And you think my hats are bad!” Ivy giggled.
“I know,” agreed Miss Tarabotti fervently. “But what can one do? Werewolves lack subtlety.”
“That does not look like Lord Maccon,” said Miss Hisselpenny, trying to make out the features under the hat. She had met the earl only a few times, but still... “Much too short.”
“That is because it is not. Apparently, he departed this morning before I arose. That is his Beta, Professor Lyall, all in all a superior being so far as manners are concerned. According to him, Lord Maccon's gone home to rest.” Miss Tarabotti's tone said she expected the earl to have told her that himself. “Well, we had a busy night.”
Ivy twitched the heavy velvet curtains back to cover the front window once more and turned to her friend. “Yes, well, so it would seem with all that kissing! Which, I must point out, you have yet to address. You simply must tell me. What was it like?” Miss Hisselpenny found most of the books in Alexia's father's library shameful to read. She covered her ears and hummed whenever Miss Tarabotti even mentioned her papa, but she never hummed so loudly she could not hear what was said. But now that her friend possessed firsthand experience, she was simply too curious to be embarrassed.
“He simply, in a manner of speaking, grabbed me. I believe I was talking too much.”
Ivy made the appropriate shocked noise of disagreement over such an outlandish idea.
“And the next thing I knew...” Alexia fluttered her hand in the air and trailed off.
“And do go on,” encouraged Miss Hisselpenny, her eyes wide with avid curiosity.