Sidheag raised her head, saying something soft in reply. Captain Niall responded with a gentle squeeze to the arm. Overcome once more, Sidheag crumpled, shoulders heaving. The werewolf whisked her off, his supernatural speed used in sympathy for once, into the darkness of the moor and away from prying eyes.
Sophronia, Dimity, and Agatha were left once again without their friend, alone at the top of the stairs. At least Sidheag’s behavior had not been observed. The shame of it, to show weakness and then affection, with a teacher!
Dimity’s hand was pressed to her mouth, her eyes widened against sympathetic tears. Agatha looked almost as shaky as Sidheag, so that Sophronia slipped an arm about her waist. They stood like that for a long time until a polite cough caught Sophronia’s attention.
“Miss, we need to crank up the stair.”
Sophronia turned to find Soap, standing shipside.
He looked about to crack one of his customary cheeky smiles. But the moment he saw her expression, he schooled his own and flitted over to join them. “What in all aether’s happened? Sophronia, are you hurt?” Usually he was punctiliously formal. They must look truly upset for him to call Sophronia by name.
“We don’t know.” A great deal of frustration colored Sophronia’s voice.
Soap’s eyes bored into hers, as if they were alone. “Not you?” His gaze flicked to her bandaged arm.
Sophronia shook her head. “No, I’m well. Just a little scrape with a fan. It’s Sidheag.”
Dimity tugged at her sleeve. “I’m sure this is a private matter! Hush.”
“Soap is her friend, too.”
Dimity bit her lip, uncomfortable with sharing anything that had so traumatized Sidheag with an underling, or a boy, or an outsider. Despite Soap’s ongoing friendship with Sophronia, Dimity was too much a lady not to see him as all three, all the time.
Dimity hissed, “Sidheag is Lady Kingair. I know that mostly we forget she’s all over titled, being Scottish and such, but still, should Lady Kingair be friends with a sootie?”
“Oh, Dimity, don’t be so snobbish. Sidheag can choose her own friends. And he might know something.”
Soap was clearly chuffed at Sophronia’s ready defense. Still, he responded to the meat of the matter. “Know something? About Lady Kingair? Not recently. Why, is she unwell?”
Sophronia shook her head helplessly. “Something has gone pear shaped. She received a pigeon and now she’s gone off into the moor with Captain Niall.”
“And she was crying. Sidheag. I shouldn’t have thought it possible,” whispered Agatha.
Soap considered. “Pigeon, huh? I’ll see what I can dig up. And now, before we all get into trouble, would you mind backing away from the stair, please? We have orders.”
Much sobered, the three made their way at a run to their next lesson. They had Lady Linette, and even with an emotional crisis of epic proportions, it wasn’t done to be late to a lesson with Lady Linette. They couldn’t even claim fashion as an excuse—Lady Linette forgave tardiness on account of style. But all three of them had grass stains on their gowns, and Sophronia’s sleeve was ripped and bloody. They were certain to get into trouble.
“Girls, why are you so very late?” Lady Linette’s blonde curls were perfectly arranged to spill over one shoulder in a style ill suited to a woman of her years. She wore too much face paint and a dress overly poufy and of that exact shade of pale green that became no one. But Lady Linette overdressed with purpose. She was actually prettier and younger underneath, and would be quite the thing if she actually dressed her age, gave up rinsing her hair, and forayed into jewel-toned fabrics. For a reason Sophronia had yet to fathom, Lady Linette did not. She kept up the facade, and the girls, who had now mostly figured out that it was one, kept it with her. This, too, was part of their training.
Lady Linette’s anger, however, was not faked. She turned it on Sophronia. “Explain yourself, young lady.”
“Stairway wasn’t working well. It started to go up while we were still on it, caused quite a ruckus. You might want to have it checked next time you have a mechanic in.”
“Oh, indeed?”
Sophronia knew that the sooties would back her up in her fib, so long as she could get to them first. I guess I’m visiting the sooties this evening.
Lady Linette probably knew it, too, for she didn’t pursue the reprimand. “I suppose that explains your abysmal attire as well?”
All three girls nodded.
“Well, don’t let it happen again. You should have allowed time to change. You’re old enough not to be overset by misbehaving stairways.”
They all bobbed simultaneous perfect curtsies and chorused in unison, “Yes, Lady Linette.”
“Or misbehaving vampires?” muttered Sophronia, under her breath.
Lady Linette flicked a curl at her. “Now that you have reminded me, Miss Temminnick, please stay after class. I must have a chat with you about that thing on your wrist.”
In the time it took Lady Linette to say it, Sophronia had unbuckled the hurlie behind her back and passed it surreptitiously to Dimity.
“Of course, Lady Linette.”
Lady Linette gestured for them to sit. In her classroom, seats were made up of plush ottomans and sofas. They resided alongside velvet curtains and tables covered in gold brocade. The room had a definite boudoir-of-ill-repute feeling.
As it turned out, this was well suited to their lesson.
Sophronia and Dimity took a vacant love seat at the front, Sophronia dislodging a large, fluffy cat with a scrunched-up face. The cat gave her a disgusted look. Or seemed to; it was hard to tell with that face.
Agatha scuttled to the back, sitting alone on a hassock, as if she were truly in trouble. She slouched and stared at her feet, until Lady Linette reprimanded her and then began the lesson.
“Ladies, it has been decided that you are now old enough for lessons in the fine art of seduction. And so we will begin with multidirectional flirting. Few of you will have the opportunity to practice on boys for a good while yet, since we are no longer keeping company with Bunson’s.” She turned suddenly to Sophronia and Dimity. “Except you ladies, of course. I understand Miss Temminnick’s brother has recently acquired a fiancée? And that you two have leave to attend his engagement masquerade?”
They nodded.
“Well, pay close attention, then, masquerade balls are ideal practice grounds.” She turned back and began instruction.
“She’s still angry about it,” hissed Dimity to Sophronia.