Imprudence (19 page)

“
Chérie
, you're doing fine. Don't take anything Aggie says seriously. She's still here after all. If she really hated it, she'd leave.”

“Am I too enthusiastic and incautious?” Rue rubbed her gloved hands together as Quesnel steered her towards the spiral staircase with one hand to her elbow.

“I happen to adore your enthusiasm.”

“But is it a valuable trait in a leader?”

“Stop worrying. Aggie's prejudiced. She doesn't like your mother either.”

“I understand people not liking my mother. She's impossible. But I thought I was easier to suit.”

“You're amiable,
chérie
. Aggie likely finds your charm suspicious.”

“I have charm? She won't be mean to Primrose, will she? Prim couldn't take it. She's not equipped to accommodate verbal abuse from rampaging freckles.”

“Fortunately, Primrose never visits the boiler room.”

“I shall try to keep it that way. Aggie could destroy her with a single barb.”

Quesnel sighed. “She resents your position in society.”

“What
position
?
Circus freak?”

“Pardon me?” Quesnel was actually shocked.

Rue shook her head. Despite her vaunted carefree nature, Aggie's hostility stung. “You mean to say, you never wonder why I remain unmarried?”

Quesnel was taken aback. “No.”

“Metanatural,” Rue explained succinctly.

“What has that to do with it?”

“Good old Rue, fun for a laugh, but who would want to marry that? No idea what kind of creature she might birth, or become herself. Bad bet. Not even human.”

“Don't be ridiculous. No one thinks…”

“Oh, yes, they do. It's fine. I've made my peace with it. And, yes, I have powerful parents, but most of the time that's a hindrance. Who'd want to marry into either household without ulterior motive? How do I trust any offer as genuine? I'm defined by my supernatural relationships.”

“And me, where do I fit in?”

“It's not like you want to marry me. Oh, don't look so upset. I'm not fishing for an address. I'm only pointing out that who I am is tempered by
what I am
in the eyes of society. I'm liminal to the aristocracy, just as I'm liminal to the supernatural set. Not quite a member, not quite on the outside either.”

Quesnel cocked his head. “Is that why you like captaining a dirigible so much? It's your place?”

“Although now it seems I'm not good at it.”

“What did I say? Ignore Aggie. She's bitter. That's her personality flaw, not yours.”

“You're sweet to comfort me.” Rue patted Quesnel as they emerged into the hall of the midship level.

Quesnel lowered his voice. “I would, you know.”

“Mmm?”

“Marry you.”

Rue kissed his cheek absentmindedly. “Chivalrous, darling, but we both know you don't really mean it.”

With which Rue drifted towards her private chambers.

She gasped when he caught her hand and pulled her into his arms. The mid-level hallway was empty, thank goodness. Rue smiled against the sweet insistence of his mouth.
Such a nice boy, trying to make me feel better.
It worked. His kisses were distracting – a soothing balm to her wounded feelings. There seemed a desperate intent behind them, as though he were trying to make her understand something. Her own worth, perhaps? His hands were firm against her waist. He also had learned much during their French lessons – what she liked, how she preferred to be touched.

He leaned back against the wall, pulled her against him, braced and eager.

Rue was contemplating inviting him to her room, although it was mid-shift and certainly not an ideal time for canoodling.

All of a sudden, he pushed her away to the other side of the hall – she was adrift, bereft.

Lady Maccon was coming out of the library. Fortunately, she had her nose in a book and hadn't witnessed their embrace.

By the time she looked up, they were a respectable distance apart, only a little rumpled.

“Infant. Mr Lefoux.”

“Mother.”

“Lady Maccon.”

Rue said, “That book I was telling you about? I believe Percy has a copy. Would you like to… ?”

Quesnel followed her lead with the consummate skill of a natural charlatan. “Yes, indeed.”

Lady Maccon gave only a slight rolling of her eyes to indicate her suspicions.

Rue suppressed a giggle as Quesnel guided her into the library.

A cursory glance about the stacks proved the room to be empty.

Quesnel had her back in his arms in a trice. “Where were we?”

“I believe your lips were here.” Rue pointed. “And your hands here.” She pointed again. “And mine were here.” At the last, she suited her actions to her words.

“What a good memory you have, Lady Prudence.” Quesnel was intent on covering her neck with kisses – what he could reach through the ruffles of her dress.

The library door banged open, interrupting them again. They sprang apart. Quesnel hurriedly buttoned his waistcoat. Rue patted at her ruffles to ensure they weren't in disarray.

“Oh, for goodness' sake.” Percy glared. It was hard to tell whether he was annoyed at having discovered them in a compromising position or annoyed at encountering anyone at all.

“Come for a book, have you? Giving in to temptation at last?” Rue retorted quickly.

“Certainly not! In case you have forgotten, my desk is here. I wasn't going to
read
anything, only look something up.”

He pointed to a corner where he'd pushed some books aside to make room for a tiny escritoire. Above it, he and Virgil had contrived a unique candelabra made up of hundreds of tiny books, on a pulley system that could twirl and raise and lower. The person seated at the desk could access any book he wanted.

“What on earth is that?” Quesnel was entranced.

“My information cloud.” Percy was distracted into an explanation of his own brilliance. “It's an index of sorts. If I swing it like so…”

The door opened again. Primrose entered, followed by Tasherit.

“You most certainly are!” the werelioness was saying.

“I am not!” Prim responded, before noticing she had an audience. “Rue. Mr Lefoux. Percy.”

“Miss Tunstell.” Quesnel gave a slight bow. “Miss Sekhmet.”

“Is
everyone
to invade my library?” Percy wanted to know.

“We were here first.” Rue wasn't about to be bossed around by Percival Tunstell on her own ship.

“I very much noticed. But it's
my
library!”

“You haven't been using it.”

“That doesn't mean you should be fornicating in here. This is a sacred space.”

Primrose turned to Rue. “Fornicating? In a library! Oh, Rue.”

Tasherit remained perturbed by something Primrose had said and didn't care about Rue's indiscretions. Well, to be fair, she wasn't British. She didn't think the same way.

“Wait a moment.” Rue was struck with confusion. “Tasherit, what are you doing awake?”

“Oh, didn't you notice?” Percy was snide. “We've puffed out of the grey. Occupied with something else?” He gave Quesnel a nasty look.

Quesnel issued a smug smile at Percy.

Tasherit said, “Did you know Primrose was engaged?”

The question wasn't addressed to anyone in particular, so Rue, Percy, and Quesnel all nodded.

“Was I the only one not told?” The werecat did not look honoured by the exception. “Odd to be so singled out.”

“I hadn't seen you to tell you.” Never had Rue known Primrose to lie in such a barefaced manner.

“Fiddlesticks!” The word sounded exotic with Tasherit's accent. “You've been avoiding me this entire journey. When I haven't been asleep.”

Rue's, Quesnel's, and Percy's focus bounced back and forth between the combatants as though watching a badminton match.

Prim went on the defensive. “If you wouldn't press me so!”

Tasherit's beautiful face came over all inscrutable. “I enjoy your company. I hardly think that pressure.”

Footnote made an appearance at that juncture, ambling up in a welcoming manner until he spotted Tasherit, at which point his tail bristled up like a bottlebrush and he hissed.

The werecat sniffed. “Well, I know when I'm not wanted.”

Despite Quesnel's and Rue's protestations, she exited the library with graceful finality.

Rue said to Footnote, although she was really addressing Primrose, “You're a bit tough on our stunning friend. She is a valuable member of my crew, you know.”

Footnote subsided into a loaf position, looking like an upended Christmas pudding with interested ears.

Percy leapt to his cat's defence. “He's entitled to his own opinion.”

Rue could hardly argue with that. “You'd best be wary, moggie. She is much bigger than you. Could easily turn you into an Endnote.”

The little black and white tom twitched his whiskers.

Percy said staunchly, “He's tougher than he appears.”

Rue looked at Primrose. Enough time had passed for her to calm down a bit. “What on earth is wrong, Prim?”

Primrose closed her eyes. “Arguing with that woman is like fighting a blancmange. Press too lightly and she only wobbles, press too hard and you get engulfed into her squishy mindset. It's disconcerting.”

Rue muttered, “Blancmanges have squishy mindsets?”

Percy explained the situation to Footnote. “My dear sister doesn't like people she can't manage, organise, and categorise. I'm thinking our feline friend there defies all attempts.”

Prim narrowed her eyes. “No one is interested in your opinion, Percy.”

“Footnote is, aren't you, Footnote?” Her brother did not look up from the cat.

Footnote merped at him.

“Quite right,” said Percy. “You
are
the only intelligent conversation to be found on this ship.”

“Percy, be fair,” remonstrated Rue. “He's the only one you condescend to talk to.”

“And have certain persons steal my ideas again? I think not.”

“For the last time,” said Quesnel, “it wasn't your idea to have stolen.”

Primrose raised both her hands. “Please don't start up again. It's already been a trying day.”

“You don't know the half of it, sister dear. You'll never guess what I caught these two up to.” Percy glared at Rue.

“Unfortunately, I think I can guess. Rue is my best friend, after all.”

Quesnel blinked at Rue. “You told her?”

Rue didn't see what he had to complain about. “Naturally I told her. What good is an education if it is kept to oneself?”

“That sounds like one of my lines.” Percy was, to be sure, ever eager to share his research into the world with the world.

Quesnel looked dubious. “You think she'll benefit?”

Rue followed this reasoning. “Well, yes, if she persists in this foolhardy notion of an engagement. It follows that there will eventually be marriage. To a man.”

“You think she'll go through with it?” Quesnel was surprised.

Primrose interjected. “I am engaged –
of course
I intend to go through with it!”

“You see?” said Rue.

Quesnel raised his eyebrows. “Curious.”

Primrose objected at any whiff of judgement. “No, it is not! I cannot believe you would take Tash… Miss Sekhmet's side. Marriage is the correct course of action for any lady of quality. Just because she has odd notions about independence, and Percy is scared of women, and you two are playing out a protracted bout of scandal doesn't mean I am equally outrageous in my feelings on conjugational formality!”

“Independence, is that what Tasherit calls it?” Rue kept herself from smiling. Prim did seem in some distress. Poor thing, she genuinely felt that she should do what was expected of her. What a horrible way to go through life.

Quesnel turned to Rue. “Like to go somewhere more private and be scandalous some more?”

“Absolutely.”

Without further ado, they made for the door, leaving the twins and Footnote in possession of the field.

Percy rounded on his sister. “You condone Rue's behaviour?”

“What did I
just say
, Percy? Certainly not. But when have I ever been able to dissuade Rue from action in any way?”

“Good point.”

Quesnel and Rue made their way up the aft ladder to the captain's quarters – nowhere else on
The
Spotted Custard
seemed safe from interruption.

Door closed behind them, Rue crowded in close but Quesnel didn't reach for her.

“You've been telling Primrose what we do together?”

“Some. She doesn't want to hear details. Keeps pretending to faint. I've nothing but nice things to say, don't worry.”

Quesnel winced. “While that's kind of you, it's a little odd to know you are reporting on an affair that should be kept private.”

Rue blinked. “Oh dear, have I broken some sacred code? You can't possibly believe that your previous lady friends keep your exploits to themselves?”

Quesnel was blond, so his humiliation was instantly evident above his cravat. “
Chérie
, you are a lady, much as you resent it. As such, we should keep up a pretence of discretion.”

“Prim is nothing if not discreet.”

“What have you told her so far?” Quesnel rubbed his face with one hand, as though to wipe away the blush.

Rue grinned. “That I like your posterior. That kissing can be extended to other parts of the body. That you are very well shaped in all places.”

“Including…” Quesnel gestured to his trousers.

“Especially there.” Rue couldn't help but enjoy his discomfort. All along he held the superior tactical position, being the more experienced partner; this was the first time she'd had the upper hand.