Floote began cleaning up the disarray.
“Pity,” said Madame Lefoux.
Professor Lyall gave the Frenchwoman a suspicious look.
The inventor raised both of her hands defensively. “Not my craftsmanship, I assure you. I do not deal in”—a sudden dimpled grin spread over her face—“coccinellids.”
“I think you had better explain why you’re blaming the vampires, Professor.” Alexia brought the matter back to hand and gave her husband’s Beta a very hard look.
Professor Lyall did explain, starting with his deductions about the poisoning, the missing journal, and the kidnapping attempt, and moving on to his belief that now that Lady Maccon’s pregnancy was in print, and she was no longer officially under the Woolsey Pack’s protection, such incidents were only likely to increase in both frequency and ferocity.
Enchanting. What do I expect next? Hordes of barbaric brass bumblebees? “Why do they want me dead? I mean, aside from the customary reasons.”
“We think it has something to do with the child.” Madame Lefoux took Alexia’s elbow softly in hand, trying to steer her in the direction of the overturned barrel.
Alexia resisted, instead turning to Professor Lyall, her throat tight with pent-up emotion. “So you believe me? You believe that this infant-inconvenience is Conall’s?”
He nodded.
“‘Infant-inconvenience’?” whispered Tunstell to Floote.
Floote remained impassive.
“Do you know something Conall does not?” Alexia’s heart leapt with the possibility of exoneration.
Sadly, the Beta shook his head.
Hope dissipated. “Funny that you should trust me more than my own husband.” Alexia sat down heavily on the barrel and scrubbed at her eyes with her knuckles.
“He has never acted reasonably where you are concerned.”
Lady Maccon nodded, her mouth tight. “That does not excuse his behavior.” Her face felt stiff, as though it were made of wax. An image that brought back some very uncomfortable memories.
“No, it does not,” Professor Lyall agreed with her.
Alexia wished he wouldn’t be so nice—it drove her pathetically close to actual wallowing. “And the only vampire likely to be on my side in this is Lord Akeldama. And he has disappeared.”
“He has?” Madame Lefoux and Professor Lyall said it at the same time.
Alexia nodded. “I was at his house earlier this morning. Abandoned. And that after he asked me to stay with him.”
“Coincidence?” Tunstell looked like he already knew the answer to such an idea.
“That reminds me of an old saying of Mr. Tarabotti’s,” offered Floote, speaking for the first time. “‘Floote,’ he used to say to me, ‘there’s no such thing as fate—there’s just werewolves, and there’s no such thing as coincidence—there’s just vampires. Everything else is open to interpretation.’ ”
Alexia looked at him hard. “Speaking of my father…”
Floote shook his head, glanced at Lyall, and then said, “Classified information, madam. Apologies.”
“I didn’t know you were an agent, Mr. Floote.” Madame Lefoux was intrigued.
Floote looked away. “Not as such, madam.”
Alexia knew Floote of old; he would not budge on the subject of her father. It was maddening behavior from the otherwise exemplary family retainer. “To the Continent, then.” Alexia had given this some thought while in the tea shop. America was out of the question, and vampires were much more vulnerable in Europe—where few countries had followed King Henry’s example and integrated the supernatural set. Perhaps they would not be quite so deadly. Or, at least, have access to fewer ladybugs.
“I do not mean to be rude,” said Professor Lyall, employing the phrase most often used by those who are about to be very rude indeed, “but such travel should commence quickly. It would be no bad thing for you to leave London before the next full moon, Lady Maccon.”
Madame Lefoux consulted a lunar calendar posted on the wall alongside various diagrams. “Three nights from now?”
Professor Lyall nodded. “Preferably sooner. I can use BUR agents to protect you until then, Lady Maccon, but at full moon all of my werewolves are out of commission and my secondary resources are tapped, for I cannot rely on the vampire agents. They will go against BUR orders if under the influence of a queen.”
“You can store your possessions here while we are away,” offered Madame Lefoux.
“Well, that is something. At least my clothing will be safe.” Alexia threw her hands up in exasperation. “I knew it was a terrible idea to get out of bed this morning.”