Part 13 (2/2)

”And?”

Miss Hisselpenny opened her eyes, still blus.h.i.+ng furiously, and looked at her married friend. ”Is one supposed to enjoy kissing?” she practically whispered.

”I believe it is generally thought to be a pleasant pastime. You read novels, do you not?” replied Lady Maccon, trying desperately to keep a straight face.

”Do you enjoy doing... that that with Lord Maccon?” with Lord Maccon?”

Lady Maccon did not hesitate, credit where it was due and all. ”Unreservedly.”

”Oh, well, I thought it was a little”-Ivy paused-”damp.”

Lady Maccon c.o.c.ked her head to one side. ”Well, you must understand, my husband has considerable experience in these matters. He is hundreds of years older than I.”

”And that does not trouble you?”

”My dear, he will live hundreds of years longer than I as well. One must come to terms with these things if one fraternizes with the supernatural set. I admit it is hard, knowing we will not grow old together. But if you choose Tunstell, you may eventually have to face the same concerns. Then again, your time together could be cut short, as he may not survive metamorphosis.”

”Is that likely to occur soon?”

Lady Maccon knew very little about this aspect of pack dynamics. So she only shrugged.

Ivy sighed, a long, drawn-out exhalation that seemed to encompa.s.s all the problems of the empire. ”It is all too much to think about. My head is positively awhirl. I simply do not know what to do. Don't you see? Don't you comprehend my cacophony?”

”You mean catastrophe?”

Ivy ignored her. ”Do I throw over Captain Featherstonehaugh, and his five hundred a year, for Mr. Tunstell and his unstable”-she shuddered-”working-cla.s.s station? Or do I continue with my engagement?”

”You could always marry your captain and pursue a dalliance with Tunstell on the side.”

Miss Hisselpenny gasped, sitting fully upright in her outrage at such a proposal. ”Alexia, how could you even think think such a thing, let alone suggest it aloud!” such a thing, let alone suggest it aloud!”

”Well, yes, of course, those damp kisses would would have to improve.” have to improve.”

Ivy threw a pillow at her friend. ”Really!”

Lady Maccon, it must be admitted, gave little further thought to her dear friend's dilemma. She transferred all the most delicate doc.u.ments and important smaller instruments and devices out of her dispatch case and into the pockets of her parasol. Since she was already known as an eccentric parasol-carrier, no one remarked upon its continued presence at her side, even well after dark.

Dinner was a strained affair, stiff with tension and suspicion. Worse, the food was horrible. True, Alexia had very high standards, but the fare continued to be ghastly. Everything-meat, vegetables, even pudding-appeared to have been steamed into flaccid colorless submission, with no sauce, or even salt, to bolster the flavor. It was like eating a wet handkerchief.

Felicity, who had the palate of a country goat and tucked in without pause to anything laid before her, noticed that Alexia was only picking at her food. ”Nice to see you are finally taking measures, sister.”

Lady Maccon, lost in thought, replied with an unguarded, ”Measures?”

”Well, I am terribly concerned for your health. One simply should not weigh so much at your age.”

Lady Maccon poked at a sagging carrot and wondered if anyone would miss her dear sister were she to be oh-so-gently tipped over the rail of the upper deck.

Madame Lefoux glanced up. She gave Alexia an appraising look. ”I think Lady Maccon appears in fine health.”

”I think you are being fooled by her unfas.h.i.+onable robustness,” said Felicity.

Madame Lefoux continued as though Felicity hadn't spoken. ”You, on the other hand, Miss Loontwill, are looking a touch insipid.”

Felicity gasped.

Alexia wished, yet again, that Madame Lefoux were not so clearly a spy. She would be a good egg otherwise. Was it she who had tried to get into the dispatch case?

Tunstell came wandering in, full of excuses for his tardiness, and took his seat between Felicity and Ivy.

”How nice of you to join us,” commented Felicity.

Tunstell looked embarra.s.sed. ”Have I missed the first course?”

Alexia examined the steamed offering before her. ”You can have mine if you like. I find my appet.i.te sorely taxed these days.”

She pa.s.sed the graying ma.s.s over to Tunstell, who looked at it doubtfully but began eating.

Madame Lefoux continued talking to Felicity. ”I have an interesting little invention in my rooms, Miss Loontwill, excellent for enlivening the facial muscles and imparting a rosy hue to the cheeks. You are welcome to try it sometime.” There was a slight dimpling at that, suggesting this invention was either sticky or painful.

”I would not think, with your propensities, that you would be concerned with feminine appearances,” shot back Felicity, glaring at the woman's vest and dinner jacket.

”Oh, I a.s.sure you, they concern me greatly.” The Frenchwoman looked at Alexia.

Lady Maccon decided Madame Lefoux reminded her a little bit of Professor Lyall, only prettier and less vulpine. She looked to her sister. ”Felicity, I seem to have misplaced my leather travel journal. You have not seen it anywhere, have you?”

The second course was presented. It looked only slightly more appetizing than the first: some unidentifiable grayish meat in a white sauce, boiled potatoes, and soggy dinner rolls. Alexia waved it all away in disgust.

”Oh dear, sister, you have not taken up writing, have you?” Felicity pretended shock. ”Quite frankly, all of that reading is outside of enough. I had thought that being married would cure you of such an unwise inclination. I never read if I can help it. It is terribly bad for the eyes. And it causes one's forehead to wrinkle most horribly, just there.” She pointed between her eyebrows and then said pityingly to Lady Maccon, ”Oh, I see you do not have to worry about that that anymore, Alexia.” anymore, Alexia.”

Lady Maccon sighed. ”Oh, pack it in, Felicity, do.”

Madame Lefoux hid a smile.

Miss Hisselpenny said suddenly in a loud and highly distressed voice, ”Mr. Tunstell? Oh! Mr. Tunstell, are you quite all right?”

Tunstell was leaning forward over his plate, his face gone pale and drawn.

”Is it the food?” wondered Lady Maccon. ”Because if it is, I entirely understand your feelings on the subject. I shall have a conversation with the cook.”

Tunstell looked up at her. His freckles were standing out and his eyes watering. ”I feel most unwell,” he said distinctly before lurching to his feet and stumbling out the door.

Alexia looked after him for a moment with her mouth agape, then glared suspiciously down at the food set before them. She stood. ”If you will excuse me, I think I had best check on Tunstell. No, Ivy, you stay here.” She grabbed her parasol and followed the claviger.

She found him on the nearest observation deck, collapsed on his side against a far rail, clutching at his stomach.

Alexia marched up to him. ”Did this come over you quite suddenly?”

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