“You’re right. Gresham would have been older than you, but you could have crossed paths.”
“Father won’t look into it thoroughly. He’s been distracted recently. He’d check the name Temminnick and not a whole lot else. Whatever your father does for the government, it obviously does not impede Pickleman policies. So I’m allowed to attend.”
Felix’s father, Duke Golborne, was something terribly high up in the Picklemen as well as a peer. The Picklemen were, so far as Sophronia could tell, evil. Not that there was anything especially wrong with being evil. But this evil seemed particularly centered on monopolizing political control and undermining everyone else’s power but their own, and that Sophronia didn’t like. She was finding, as she grew older, that she was rather fond of balance… in all things. “Oh, indeed. And what has been distracting the duke of late?”
“Now, now, Ria, you think I don’t remember that look of yours?”
“What look?”
“Not unlike a hound on a scent. A very pretty hound, of course.”
Sophronia sighed. “I know, it’s my worst giveaway. I’m mostly good at schooling my features for anger and love and suchlike emotions, but curiosity gets the better of me.”
Felix, clearly thinking of Sophronia and Sidheag’s spectacular rescue infiltration of the Westminster Hive, added sarcastically, “I should say that it does so in more ways than one.”
“Now, now, my lord, you know it’s part of my charm.”
Felix looked as if he doubted it. “You do wear breeches well.”
“They are comfortable and mobile. Why should you boys have all the fun?”
“Next thing you’ll have me in stays.”
Sophronia was surprised to find she rather liked that idea. She thought Felix would look well in a corset, perhaps a black-and-blue one to match his eyes and hair. “Would you like to try? You might fit one of Sidheag’s.”
Felix actually blushed. “Oh, now, I say!”
“It was only an offer.”
Their conversation remained a great deal livelier after that, ranging on topics of interest both evil genius and finishing related. Sophronia even successfully teased him about Pickleman politics, and he looked as if he might have been second-guessing the Picklemen’s interests. Or at least actually thinking about the implications. Eventually, they moved toward the front of the cart to include Dimity and even Pillover in their conversation. The boys managed to put any animosity aside for the duration of the trip. It helped that tea and sandwiches plus hard-boiled eggs and winter apples were consumed. It was hard to be antagonistic over the comfort of food on a rainy day.
SESSION 6: MASQUERADING MECHANICALS
It was a pleasant trip, in the end, despite the weather and the conveyance. They arrived at Sophronia’s family estate early that evening. It was too late for tea, although Frowbritcher, the mechanical butler, laid out a reserve for the weary travelers.
The engagement party was Mrs. Temminnick’s opportunity to exhibit her hostess technique. With eight children, thrift was a matter of course, but this was her eldest son and no expense was to be spared. There were floating lanterns ready to launch as soon as the sun set. There were freight carriers full of goods and errand boys on donkeys arriving at an alarming rate. Sophronia was relieved to see that there were no cheese pies. Mumsy had borrowed extra mechanical staff from the neighbors as well. Sophronia spotted six clangermaids and two buttlinger models of the latest design, certainly not belonging to her family. Frowbritcher, who ordinarily had the most regal of bearings, as it were, seemed shabby next to the shiny new technology. Extra tracks had been laid down in the public areas of the house, crisscrossing the sitting room and card parlor and bordering the ballroom in artful waving patterns.
After tea, the girls and boys separated to change for the main event. Pillover and Felix were bound to be quicker and so were instructed to attend the other gentlemen in the billiard room once their toilette was complete. The young ladies were put in with Sophronia’s sisters, a milling, giggling throng of primping and gossip.
All attention instantly turned to Sophronia and Dimity, much to Petunia’s annoyance. Petunia was Sophronia’s nearest older sister and, in consequence, a trial.
“Oh, Sophronia, is it true?” asked one of Petunia’s silly friends.
“Of course it’s true, isn’t it always,” replied Sophronia, depositing her shawl and sundry unnecessary luggage in a pile on a settee. Bumbersnoot, lost under the mounds, seemed content to stay quiet. Dimity put her assorted garments on top.
Petunia bustled over, clucking. “What on earth has happened to your hair, sister?”
“I traveled all day in an open cart in the rain!” Sophronia snapped.
Petunia always treated Sophronia as if she were still ten. At Dimity’s startled look, Sophronia realized she was usually better at holding her temper, and took a deep breath, reaching for her training. She would outclass her sister if it killed her.
Petunia continued to cluck and fuss. Soon a gaggle of girls joined her, attacking Sophronia’s flattened locks with curlers and rags, pins and puffs, falls and flowers. Sophronia stood composed under their siege. Of course, she knew what they wanted of her, but she was not going to make it easy. She allowed them to guide her to a chair in front of a looking glass without offer of information.
Dimity, ignored, drifted to a corner and popped open her carpetbag to extract her costume. It was a modification of her favorite gold ball gown. She’d ordered a new evening bodice for it and added crystals about the neckline in a gearlike pattern. The shape of the skirt, paired with copious gold jewelry, including an ornate tiara, made her look like the queen of mechanicals. It was a lovely effect with her pale complexion and riotous curls—Dimity did not need the benefit of curling tongs. Having donned a smooth mechanical-like mask, she looked enchanting, entirely guileless, and completely trustworthy. She had learned well how to manipulate with clothing. There was something so unthreatening about household mechanicals. Dimity had managed to trade on that fact and still look regal. Sophronia wished she could carry off such a costume.
Sophronia let her sister’s friends fuss. Only she knew that her hair was destined to be scraped back into a severe bun. Best let them have their fun. Behind the group, on the settee, Bumbersnoot awakened. Their pile of garments was weaving erratically. Sophronia drew attention away from him by answering questions.
“Sophronia, what we want to know is, is it true that you’ve brought two eligible members of the peerage with you?” Petunia had no subtlety.