“More fool, her. You know about what’s going.”

“Not now; everyone is as up on things as I.” This irritated Sophronia.

Vieve dimpled. “Ah, but you’ll never guess what I heard.”

Sophronia brightened. “Oh?”

“One of the teachers is required in London.”

Sophronia was struck, yet again, by how much older Vieve always sounded and acted. One would never have guessed from her speech that she was ten. From her actions, occasionally, yes. She did bounce.

“Which one? Your aunt?”

Vieve shrugged.

“Really, Vieve.”

“Now, now, Sophronia, I told you something interesting, didn’t I? I can’t do all the work.” The girl got distracted. “What is Bumbersnoot up to?”

Bumbersnoot had snuffled over to one side of the room and latched onto a froufrou that had fallen into the corner by the bed. He was dragging it out into the center of the floor and not swallowing it into his tiny boiler.

Sophronia looked at her pet. “He wants to come along.”

“What?”

Sophronia indicated the floof in Bumbersnoot’s mouth with her head. Her hands were busy pinning on the shepherdess hat.

Vieve crouched down and gently extracted the bit of cloth from the metal dog’s mouth. It turned out to be a complex sort of sling, heavily decorated with lace, ruffles, and tassels. Vieve, being mechanically minded, realized it was designed for Bumbersnoot to wear. It covered most of the mechanimal and made him look like a reticule—if a reticule were to be designed with a metal dog head. If anyone asked, Sophronia was prone to explaining her handbag was the latest fashion out of Italy, and she couldn’t fathom how a person of taste didn’t also own one.

“Dimity and I made it for him after Petunia’s ball. The idea worked so well there. Everyone thought he was some fancy new accessory. This way I can take him to classes with me. He likes to get out and about on occasion, don’t you, Bumbersnoot?”

Vieve’s eyebrows were raised almost into her dark hair. Bumbersnoot was, technically, illegal. Not only were students of Mademoiselle Geraldine’s not permitted pets, but unregistered mechanimals were forbidden throughout the British Empire.

“Lesson five five four,” said Sophronia. “Sometimes it is best to hide a suspicious item in plain sight.”

“How do you keep him from smoking or steaming unexpectedly?”

Sophronia completed her toilette and turned to look at Bumbersnoot. Vieve had fastened the sling about him using the various ribbons tied into bows. “He has to behave, or he gets brought back to the room. Usually, he’s pretty good. Speaking of which, I’d better get to class.”

“What do you have?”

“Lady Linette’s lesson on hive society.”

“Then there will be boys with you.”

“As opposed to? I thought they were joining us for all our classes.”

Vieve shook her head, green eyes twinkling. “Oh, no, no. Bunson’s doesn’t fraternize with supernaturals.”

“So they won’t be in lessons with Captain Niall or Professor Braithwope?”

Vieve nodded and handed her Bumbersnoot.

“Oh, I don’t know,” hedged Sophronia, “with boys running around. Is it wise to bring him?”

“He wants to go,” insisted Vieve.

Bumbersnoot flapped an ear.

“Very well. Remember, Bumbersnoot, don’t move.” Sophronia slung the mechanimal over her shoulder so that he dangled near her waist, looking for all the world like the oddest and most eccentric bag any lady of means had ever carried.

In class, Dimity, Sidheag, and Agatha noticed the addition of Bumbersnoot to Sophronia’s attire but said nothing. Sophronia only carried the mechanical when she thought she might need him. Although what defined needing such a ridiculous creature was anyone’s guess. They would assume this was simply another moment when Sophronia knew more than they and intended to show them up.

As if I would do that in front of boys! Sophronia plonked Bumbersnoot down ostentatiously among the other reticules.

Lady Linette’s etiquette class was augmented by four boys, including Lord Dingleproops and his dark-haired friend.

Lady Linette began. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Today’s class is entitled “Faking It with Fangs.” We will go over proper introductions within a hive environment. Please pair off.”

With six girls, Sophronia and Agatha were left out of the first round. Monique made straight for Lord Dingleproops, cutting Dimity off. Preshea chose the dark-haired boy. They made a fetching pair, of a kind in coloring, pleasing proportions, and sulky temperament. Yet, despite Preshea’s uncontested loveliness, the dark-haired boy kept glancing at Sophronia. Which, while complimentary, also gave her an undeniable feeling of smugness. It wasn’t often a boy preferred her over Preshea.

Lady Linette continued, “Queens outrank all other vampires, despite whatever landed title they might hold. Always go to the queen first in any social situation and allow one of her hive-bound vampires to introduce you. After the queen come her hive members, then any roves who may be present. All of these will be men, some landed. Drones—humans indentured to hive or rove—are classed as household staff, with a few exceptions.”

One of the boys said, snidely, “Are you purposefully leaving out the fact that drones are also the vampires’ primary food source?”

Lady Linette snapped, “One doesn’t discuss such utilitarian things!

For today’s practice, the gentlemen will pretend to be hive vampires. Begin!”

Sophronia and Agatha introduced themselves to each other. Agatha was as shy and as nervous as if Sophronia were a real vampire. The mere presence of four young men among them had her aflutter. Poor Agatha was generally overset by anything new, from the advent of a birthday scarf—How to wear it? What to match it with?—to boys wandering willy-nilly into classes.

“So unpredictable,” Agatha whispered.

The scarf, wondered Sophronia, or the boys?

Conversation was allowed to continue for some ten minutes while Lady Linette mingled and made adjustments—to stance, to subject matter, to flirting, to lack of flirting, to eyelash use. She corrected both girls and boys. Sophronia realized, for the first time, that vampires had just as many rules to follow as women in society. Possibly more.

“Pardon me, Lady Linette?”

“Yes, Miss Temminnick?”

“Can rove vampires safely visit a hive? I thought they had to stay in their own territory.”

“Roves can visit for short lengths of time. Think logically, Miss Temminnick. Roves must have an alliance with a vampire queen because only a queen can breed new vampires. Since roves have drones, and drones work for the right to try to become a vampire, they must maintain an alliance with a queen. In exchange for drone metamorphosis, roves perform duties for the queen that the males of her hive cannot. Roves, for example, have much longer tethers and greater mobility.”

Sophronia decided tether length was something to bother Professor Braithwope about. She found the idea of vampire territories intriguing, but there was very little written on the subject. Since vampires perceived tethers as a weakness, this was probably by design. They did love controlling information.

Lady Linette clapped her hands. “Rotate, please. Lady Kingair and Miss Plumleigh-Teignmott, you pair out for this round.”

Preshea made her way to Lord Dingleproops. The young man was clearly charmed by the girl’s precise petty prettiness. Dimity looked disgruntled—she had her embossed missive clutched in one hand and clearly wished to ask Lord Dingleproops about it.

The dark-haired boy made his way across the room to Sophronia, despite the fact that Monique had moved to intercept him. He avoided her with consummate adroitness.

“We meet again, Miss Temminnick.”

“To be perfectly correct, sir, we have never properly met at all.”

He gave a little half smile. “Of course, one must always be correct.”

“Oh, haven’t you heard, sir?” Monique said. “Sophronia is always correct.”

“Is that your given name, Sophronia? Pretty.”

“Sophronia Temminnick. And it most certainly isn’t pretty. It’s a mouthful. Now, shall we do this properly? Lady Linette is watching.”

“Whatever you like, Ria.”

“Miss Temminnick to you,” hissed Sophronia.

The boy smiled wider. His eyes were a very nice shade of blue. “No, I prefer Ria.” He grasped her hand. His thumb made its way inside the top of her glove to caress her wrist. Scandalous.

Sophronia jerked away. “Stop that.” Her heart was racing. Undoubtedly in anger.

Lady Linette was upon them. “Show me.”

The dark-haired boy—I still don’t know his name, pox upon him—stopped smiling and made a very neat bow to Sophronia, as though he were encountering her at a hive house door.

Lady Linette did not look inspired.

Sophronia executed a near perfect curtsy in reply, perhaps a little brief.

Lady Linette called her out. “Why so curt, Miss Temminnick?”

“We haven’t been introduced. I wouldn’t want him to get ideas.”

“You wish to discourage the hive? Did I say we were practicing ways to dissuade a vampire’s interest?”

“You did not direct us to focus on encouragement or reluctance.”

“Very well, proceed.”

The dark haired boy said, “How do you do? My name is Mersey, Felix Mersey.”

Lady Linette interrupted him. “Family names only, young man. What kind of lady do you take her for?”

Felix smiled that quirky half smile. “The best kind, of course.”

Lady Linette was shocked. “Mr. Mersey!”

Lord Dingleproops said, from where he partnered a self-satisfied Preshea, “Actually, my lady, he’s a Golborne.”

Lady Linette was impressed. “Son of the viscount?”

The four boys in the class laughed.

Felix Mersey said softly, “Golborne is a duchy, my lady.”

“And Felix here is the eldest,” added Lord Dingleproops.

Lady Linette looked even more impressed, for that meant that Mersey was a landed title, his father’s second holding.

Sophronia narrowed her eyes. Heir to a duke, is he? No wonder he’s so arrogant. The entirety of Monique’s attention swung in their direction. Felix Mersey outranked everyone else in the room. Monique’s two years older than him, at the very least. She should be looking for someone her own age!

“We call him Felix. Doesn’t hold with titles, do you, Viscount?”

“A luxury only the titled can afford, I’m sure,” said Sophronia.

“Don’t worry, Ria,” a molasses voice whispered near her ear. “You will call me Felix, regardless.”

A fan snapped down between them. “None of that! No vampire would ever be so intimate!” Lady Linette did not hold with obvious flirting. Flirting, yes, but not obvious flirting.

Felix said, pertly, “I object to having to portray a vampire. It is beneath me.”

Lady Linette rolled her eyes and clapped for everyone’s attention. “Now, gentlemen, I understand that Bunson’s predisposition is against any contact with vampires, but the fact is they pervade high society, and you will have to fraternize with them eventually. It is always better to be prepared. And what better way to understand the enemy than to pretend to be one?”

This mollified Felix. Sophronia wondered at the strength of his dislike. With Professor Braithwope, who was a dear, as her primary model, Sophronia was rather more in favor of vampires than against. She’d been raised relatively progressive. She didn’t think her father had any business dealings with vampires or werewolves, but she was tolerably certain he wouldn’t be against such a thing.

“How do you do, Lord Mersey?”

“It is a very great pleasure to make your acquaintance at last, Miss Temminnick. Amusing reticule you have.” Felix gestured to where Bumbersnoot sat, discarded among the other accessories on Lady Linette’s mantelpiece.

“Oh, yes, indeed. A gift from a friend, Italian design. How do you feel about the weather? One might expect rain soon, might one not?”

Lady Linette interrupted, “Weather is only safe with a male vampire. Never discuss the weather with a queen. Since she can not leave her hive house, this is considered a rude reminder of her loss of freedom. Lord Mersey, how would a vampire respond?”

“Rain, in your glorious presence, Miss Temminnick? I hardly think it should dare.”

Lady Linette interjected. “No, no, too much flattery. Only roves would be so aggressive. Miss Temminnick, a rebuttal, if you would?”