The Parasol Protectorate Boxed Set (170 page)

“No,” said Prudence.

Conall stepped out into the street. Alexia considered reminding her husband he was naked and then gave up. In Alexandria, they were bound to be a spectacle whatever they did.

She shifted her daughter to her other hip. The baby's eyes were half closed and she was nodding off, the victim of an exciting night. “Come along, then, Prudence, my dear.”

“No,” muttered Prudence softly.

Madame Lefoux said, “Have you ever considered that she might be saying no because she doesn't like her name? She never says no when you use an endearment.”

Alexia stopped, floored by the idea. “Do you think? Is that true, my little puggle?” She used Lord Akeldama's favorite moniker for Prudence.

“Yes,” said Prudence.

“Prudence?”

“No!” said Prudence.

“Goodness, Genevieve, you may be on to something. What should we call her, do you think?”

“Well, she has an excessive number of names. Why not wait until she's a little older? She can choose for herself. Can't you, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” said Prudence, most categorically.

“There, you see? Takes after her mother already.”

“What could you mean by that?” queried Alexia archly.

“Likes her own way, doesn't she?” suggested the Frenchwoman with a dimpled smile.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” replied Lady Maccon with a great deal of dignity. With which she took off at a brisk pace, keeping an eye to her husband's rather distinguished backside as it wandered down the street under the waning Egyptian moon.

A
fter a sea journey only slightly less exciting than the first, Lord and Lady Maccon, their daughter, the Tunstells and their twins, the acting troupe, one nursemaid, five vampires, and seven drones arrived at the port of Southampton on a blustery day in late April of 1876. Such a crowd had mostly taken over the ship and proceeded, in remarkably fine fettle after such an extensive journey, to take over the train to London.

London was ill prepared for such an invasion. It was also not quite the same London as when they had departed.

Lord Maccon, for one, returned to his pack to find that his previous Beta had emigrated to Scotland for an unspecified indenture and that a young dandy of an Alpha waited tentatively in his place.

Biffy handed him a letter from Professor Lyall, tears in his eyes. Alexia, unabashed, read it over her husband's arm.

“My dear sir. I have no means of making amends.
Even an apology would be more an insult, of that I am well aware. I have trained young Biffy to the best of my abilities. He will make a fine Beta, even though, as you may now already have smelled, he has manifested Anubis form. I thought, perhaps, you might take over training him for his next role—your replacement—contingent upon such a time as you leave us for Egypt and a well-earned retirement.”

Upon reading that, Alexia asked, “How did he know your plans? You didn't discuss it with him ahead of time, did you?”

“No, but that's Randolph for you.”

They continued with the letter.

“Our Biffy is part of this modern age. Shifting times require a London dandy for a London Pack. Try not, my dear lord, to see him in light of your own abilities as Alpha. He will never be that kind of wolf. I believe he is what our pack will need in the future, regardless.”

Alexia looked up at Biffy. The young werewolf seemed to be feeling a more intense emotion over Professor Lyall's abandonment than she might have predicted. What had happened while they were in Egypt?

“Biffy,” asked Alexia, because she had no subtlety, “did something significant occur between you and Lyall while we were away?”

Biffy hung his head. “He promised he would come back to me eventually. When we were all ready. Ten, twenty years, he said. Not so long for an immortal. Shifting times, he said.”

Alexia nodded, feeling old. “But it feels like a very long time?”
Ah, young love
.

Biffy nodded sadly.

The earl, sensitive to his pack member's feelings, drew Alexia's attention back to Lyall's letter before she could continue interrogating the young dandy.

The letter continued.

“Don't tell Biffy yet. He isn't ready to know his future. Not the one that I envision for him. But he is ready to learn how to lead a pack, and you, my lord, will be an excellent teacher. Despite everything, I remain faithfully your friend, Professor Randolph Lyall.”

“Ah, so,” said Alexia, looking back and forth between the two gentlemen, their eyes down-turned. “It is an elegant solution,” she said at last.

“He was always verra good at elegant solutions,” said Lord Maccon softly. Then he bucked up. “Well, young Biffy, I suspect with you as my Beta, I'll never again be allowed out without a cravat.”

Biffy was aghast. “Certainly not, my lord!”

“Good to know where I stand from the start.” Conall grinned amiably at the boy.

Rumpet stuck his head in. Rumpet had been brought out of retirement to take over for Floote as pack butler. He'd set up as an innkeeper in Pickering after the vampires took over Woolsey but jumped at the chance to return to his old position. Pickering and innkeeping, as it turned out, were not all he had hoped.

“Lady Maccon, there's a gentleman to see you.” The butler had a certain curl to his lip that in Alexia's experience could only mean one man.

“Ah, show him into the front parlor. If you will excuse me, husband, Biffy, I'm certain you have much to discuss. There is Channing to consider, if nothing else.”

“Oh, blast it. Channing,” muttered Lord Maccon.

Alexia let herself out.

Lord Akeldama sat waiting for her in the front parlor, one silken leg crossed over the other, blue eyes bright and slightly accusatory. He was wearing pea green and salmon this evening, a pleasant swirl of spring colors to counteract the gray weather they'd been experiencing of late.

“Alexia, my
darling
toggle button!”

“My lord, how are you?”

“I am here to reclaim my dearest little daughter.”

“Of course, of course. Rumpet, fetch Prudence for his lordship, would you? She's sleeping in the back parlor. Did you miss her, my lord?”

“Like a hat misses a feather, darling! The droney poos and I have been bereft, quite bereft I tell you!”

“Well, she was very useful, in her way.”

“Of course she was. And Matakara—are the rumors true?”

“Where do you think Ivy acquired her new hive?”

“Yes, Alexia, pigeon, I mean to discuss that little incident with you. Did you have to bring them
all
?”

“A new queen, plus five Egyptian vampires and assorted drones? You object to my bringing souvenirs back from Egypt? Everyone brings back souvenirs from their travels abroad, my lord. It is the
done thing
.”

“Well, dewdrop, I don't object
as such
, but…”

Alexia smiled craftily. “Ivy has chosen somewhere in Wimbledon for her hive's location. A little too close for comfort, my lord?”

The vampire arched a blond eyebrow at her haughtily. “Countess Nadasdy is
not
amused.”

“She wouldn't be. Someone is essentially taking on her old role in society.”

“
Ivy Tunstell
, no less.” Lord Akeldama frowned, one perfect crease marring the white smoothness of his forehead. “She is terribly interested in fashion, isn't she?”

“Oh, dear.” Alexia hid a smile. “That, too, is your territory. I see.”

“An
actress
, my little blueberry. I mean, really. Have you
seen
her hats?”

“You paid a call?”

“Of course I paid a call! She is a new queen, after all. Etiquette
must
be observed. But really”—he shuddered delicately—“those hats.”

Alexia thought of Professor Lyall's letter. “It is the modern age, my dear Lord Akeldama. I think we must learn to accept such things as a consequence of shifting times.”

“
Shifting times
, indeed. What a very werewolf way of putting it.”

Rumpet opened the door and Prudence toddled sleepily into the room.

“Ah,
puggle precious
, how is my darling girl?”

Alexia grabbed her daughter's arm before she could launch herself at the vampire. “Dama!”

At Lady Maccon's nod, the vampire bent to embrace his adopted child, Alexia maintaining a firm grip the entire time.

“Welcome home,
poppet
!”

“Dama, Dama!”

Alexia looked on affectionately. “We've learned a few things about our girl here, haven't we, Prudence dear?”

“No,” said Prudence.

“One of them is that she doesn't like her name.”

“No?” Lord Akeldama looked very thoughtful. “Well,
there you have it. I couldn't sympathize more, puggle. I don't
approve
of most people's names either.”

Alexia laughed.

Prudence took sudden interest in Alexia's parasol, sitting next to her on the settee.

“Mine?” suggested Prudence.

“Perhaps someday,” said her mother.

Looking at his adopted daughter thoughtfully, Lord Akeldama said, “Shifting times, my dear
Ruffled Parasol
?”

Alexia did not bother to ask how he might know her secret code name. She only looked him straight on, forthright as always. “Shifting times,
Goldenrod
.”

New York Times
bestselling author Gail Carriger writes to cope with being raised in obscurity by an expatriate Brit and an incurable curmudgeon. She escaped small town life and inadvertently acquired several degrees in Higher Learning. Ms. Carriger then traveled the historic cities of Europe, subsisting entirely on biscuits secreted in her handbag. She resides in the Colonies, surrounded by fantastic shoes, where she insists on tea imported from London.

The Parasol Protectorate books are:
Soulless, Changeless, Blameless, Heartless,
and
Timeless
.
Soulless
won the ALA's Alex Award. A manga adaptation released in Spring 2012 and a young adult series set in the same universe—the Finishing School series—launched in Spring 2013. Gail is soon to begin writing a new adult series, The Parasol Protectorate Abroad (2015).

Vanessa Applegate

T
HE
P
ARASOL
P
ROTECTORATE

Soulless

Changeless

Blameless

Heartless

Timeless

T
HE
S
POTTED
C
RUMPET

Prudence

Imprudence

F
INISHING
S
CHOOL

Etiquette & Espionage

Curtsies & Conspiracy

Waistcoats & Weaponry

Manners & Mutiny

If you enjoyed

THE PARASOL PROTECTORATE: THE COMPLETE SERIES,

look out for

ETIQUETTE & ESPIONAGE

Finishing School: Book the First

by Gail Carriger

It's one thing to learn to curtsy properly. It's quite another to learn to curtsy and throw a knife at the same time. Welcome to Finishing School.

Fourteen-year-old Sophronia is a great trial to her poor mother. Sophronia is more interested in dismantling clocks and climbing trees than proper manners—and the family can only hope that company never sees her atrocious curtsy. Mrs. Temminnick is desperate for her daughter to become a proper lady. So she enrolls Sophronia in Mademoiselle Geraldine's Finishing Academy for Young Ladies of Quality.

But Sophronia soon realizes the school is not quite what her mother might have hoped. At Mademoiselle Geraldine's, young ladies learn to finish… everything. Certainly, they learn the fine arts of dance, dress, and etiquette, but the also learn to deal out death, diversion, and espionage—in the politest possible ways, of course. Sophronia and her friends are in for a rousing first year's education.