Prudence (Page 42)

“Very good, ladies. I should say one gets accustomed to it, but I’ve been stationed here for nearly three years and I have yet to acclimatise.”

Primrose was impressed. “Three years? I should never have guessed.”

“You flatter me.”

Rue grabbed her friend by the elbow and popped up her parasol with purpose. Things were about to get sappy – she saw all the signs.

Reluctantly, Prim did the same. “Will we see you at the garden party, Lieutenant Broadwattle?”

“I anticipate our renewed acquaintance with pleasure,” replied the young man smoothly.

Prim continued, because she was a flirt, “As do I.”

The officer blushed and stood hastily when they did. “Welcome to India, Lady Akeldama, Miss Tunstell.” He bowed them off.

Rue and Prim twirled about, conscious that they looked as well in their expensive dresses retreating as they had done arriving, and returned across the mudflats to their gently bobbing airship.

“Must you make every man we meet fall in love with you?” Rue wanted to know, without rancour.

Prim gave this serious thought. “Yes. It’s a point of pride, you see?”

“Ah, well, carry on then.”

“Oh, but didn’t he have fine eyes? The finest, I think, I ever saw.”

The problem with Primrose was she also fell in love back. Rue could do nothing more than pat her friend’s arm sympathetically.

Everything was still and quiet on board the Custard. The decklings, cocooned in their hammocks, snored softly, and everyone else was down below in quarters. Only Spoo and Virgil sat watch, crouched under the parasol at the helm, playing a lazy game of pumpernickel and bickering softly.

They stood to attention as Rue and Prim moved slowly up the gangplank.

“All right, you two?” Rue inquired.

“Tip-top, Lady Captain,” said Spoo.

“Surviving well enough,” added Virgil, which earned him an ear-boxing from Spoo.

“Delightful company you’re keeping, Virgil,” grinned Rue.

“Delightful,” answered the valet, deadpan.

Spoo boxed his ears again, harder.

“Ow, now look here!” He turned on her.

Spoo put both hands behind her back and whistled a little tune.

Rue hustled Prim belowdecks before they were called to arbitrate.

Rue settled in for tranquil repose, difficult as that might be in the dark, oppressive stuffiness of her cabin. Graceful and well-appointed as it may be, it was not made for Indian weather. Nevertheless, she attempted to ignore both the heat and increasingly strident tones of the two directly over her head.

Then the tenor of the argument shifted. There came a yell that was by no means normal squabbling, and a loud thud.

Rue leapt out of bed, wearing nothing but her thin shift, grabbed her mother’s parasol, and climbed up the captain’s ladder to the quarterdeck. She emerged blinking into the late afternoon light to find Spoo sitting triumphantly on the head of someone while Virgil resided on the legs. Both of them were rising up and down, as if riding a wave, as the individual in question convulsed in an effort to de-seat them.

“What on earth?” Rue asked.

Virgil’s eyes widened at her scanty attire. “Why, Lady Captain! What are you doing above boards dressed like that?”

Spoo was not perturbed.

Rue was beginning to suspect that nothing perturbed the girl. “Spoo, report!”

“Intruder, captain! We caught the blighter trying to sneak straight up the gangplank.”

At the mention of the word “captain”, the blighter in question stilled. He was clothed in plain unbleached material shaped into a very baggy shirt and some even baggier trousers. More of the same was wrapped about his head, face, and neck. Or what Rue could see of his head from under Spoo’s bottom.

“Spoo, get off him, do.”

“You’re sure that’s wise, captain?” Spoo’s expression suggested that she sincerely doubted Rue’s ability to defend herself with only a parasol.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Spoo got off.

The man turned to look at Rue. He had beautiful large almond-shaped eyes and copper skin. Too beautiful. And awfully familiar.

“You? How did you follow us so quickly? Percy will be so sad. He thought we were making especially good time.”

The lady in question drew off her head wrap and spat out some bit of Spoo that had lodged in her teeth.

Spoo and Virgil gasped. Possibly because they now knew they sat on a woman, more likely because she was so beautiful. It spoke volumes for Virgil’s presence of mind that he did not move from her legs – stunning female or no, she was still an intruder.

Miss Sekhmet said in that cultured British accent with only a hint of lilting foreign tones, “Really, children, was that strictly necessary?”

Rue popped open her parasol and used it as a shield to hide her indecent apparel. “We haven’t been here very long,” she said mildly. “We were not expecting visitors.”

The woman sat up and attempted to shed Virgil from her legs.

Virgil did not budge and, after hopping about indecisively from foot to foot, Spoo joined him there, doubling the burden.

Rue contemplated telling them to get off, but Virgil looked quite militant in protection of his Lady Captain and Spoo seemed to be having far too much fun. So Rue let them stay, wondering how her unexpected caller might cope with rascals intent on military occupation of her lower extremities. It was almost pleasing to see such a very elegant female so very put upon.

Miss Sekhmet stopped trying to remove the parasitical small persons after finding them quite tenacious. She wrapped herself in dignity and sat there, talking to Rue as though there were nothing amiss and she commonly found herself on the deck of a ladybird-shaped airship with younglings tenanting her person.

“I warned you, metanatural, about India.”

“So far, Miss Sekhmet, this moment has been the most unpleasant thing to occur here. And you, I hasten to add, are the one at the disadvantage, not I.”

The woman wrinkled her aristocratic nose. “Oh, do tell them to get off. I’m not going to harm you. If I were, I’ve already had ample opportunity.”

Rue arched an eyebrow. “Are you going to be any more forthcoming, or do you intend to persist in mysterious warnings?”

Miss Sekhmet huffed in annoyance. “It is a matter of some” – she glared at Virgil and Spoo – “delicacy.”

“You have a message for me?” Rue hazarded a guess.