Prudence (Page 47)

Lady Kingair was dressed in a way that suggested all sense of style had been sacrificed on the altar of practicality. Her gown was made of sensible muslin in deference to the heat, with copious pockets and a wide leather belt from which dangled various useful objects including a magnification lens, a medical kit, and a bar of soap.

Lady Kingair stopped in front of the two girls. She was not confused by their similar appearance. She focused on Rue, narrowing a pair of awfully familiar eyes. Those eyes were the same as the ones Rue saw in the looking glass each morning before breakfast. Eyes that were such a pale brown as to be almost yellow. Rue’s father’s eyes. Rue’s eyes.

“Good evening, auntie. We meet at last,” said Sidheag Maccon, Lady Kingair.

Rue played along. “Niece!” she said, tempted to throw her arms around the woman. She held back because hugs were not acceptable conduct at garden parties, even among family members. Maybe in the Americas, but not here, not even at the fringe of the empire.

Rue continued, eyes twinkling. “What a pleasure to meet you at last, niece.”

Lady Kingair seemed taken aback by Rue’s enthusiasm. “My, but you are different from your parents.”

“What a lovely thing to say!” crowed Rue, even more delighted to meet this long-lost relation. Because it seemed to unsettle her relation, Rue acted even more bubbly. She bounced a bit on the balls of her feet and coloured her gestures with awkward, barely supressed energy – like Spoo.

Lady Kingair shook herself slightly. “And how is old Gramps?”

“Paw was fine when we left London – topping form, really.”

“Oh indeed? Isn’t he getting a little… old?”

Rue blinked at her. What is she implying? All werewolves were old, except the newly made ones, of course. “You’d never guess it to look at him.”

“Of course not. But I didn’t intend to ask after his appearance, more the state of his soul.”

Rue didn’t understand the question and so misdirected it. “He was in good spirits when I left London.”

Lady Kingair tilted her head, as much as to say she respected Rue for avoiding all direct questions.

Rue accepted the unspoken accolade and said, “But I am remiss. Please allow me to introduce my travelling companions. This is the Honourable Primrose Tunstell and Mr Lefoux, and that is Professor Tunstell.”

“Indeed? Fine company you keep, auntie.”

“Primrose, Quesnel, this is my great-great-great-great-niece, Sidheag Maccon, Lady Kingair. I think that’s the right number of greats.”

Prim and Quesnel made polite murmurs. They did not find the relationship confusing, having grown up among vampires. Very strange things happened to family trees once immortals got involved. The Tunstell twins experienced similarly baffling relationships regularly. Their mother had been bitten to immortality when she was only a few years older than they were now. Primrose and Aunt Ivy looked, in effect, like sisters. Eventually, as Prim got older, her mother would look younger than she, like a daughter, and then a granddaughter. Vampires and werewolves had all sorts of rules in place to stop such things, but Ivy Tunstell had been made vampire by accident. And Rue’s entire existence was a massive mistake. Lady Kingair had been made werewolf under even more unusual circumstances.

We are all of us, thought Rue, not exactly meant to exist. It made her feel a kinship beyond blood with this acerbic Scotswoman.

“Let us be candid, auntie. Are you here to order us back to London?” demanded Sidheag.

That was when Rue realised that there was something more behind her parents’ refusal to host the Kingair Pack or visit Scotland. Something had gone wrong between them, something sinister, before Rue’s birth.

However, it didn’t stop her from ribbing her relation. “Order you to town, Lady Alpha? Why on earth would I do that? Everyone seems so eager to keep you out of London.” Rue could imagine the carnage should this pack and her father’s pack try to occupy the same city while at odds. London was big, but it wasn’t that big.

“But you are here at your father’s behest?”

“Which father?” Rue could play this game happily until the sun came up.

The Alpha werewolf lost a little of her aggressive posture. “I have always wondered which one would have the most influence. Well, if you aren’t here for us, why are you in Bombay, Prudence Maccon?”

“It’s Prudence Akeldama. And this is just a pleasure jaunt, esteemed niece. Dama gifted me with this lovely little airship and I thought I might see a bit of the world. I heard India was pleasant this time of year.”

Lady Kingair rolled her eyes. “Double-talk, nothing but double-talk. It’s like being back in finishing school.”

“If I may be of service, Alpha?” said a smooth voice. And out of the pack of large, kilted Scotsmen slid a slight Englishman as calm, quiet, and nondescript as any civil servant wandering the House of Commons. His urbane nature made him as incongruous and as appealing as cheese in a pickle shop.

Lady Kingair relaxed and glanced at the man almost affectionately. “Yes, you’re far better at arranging these kinds of things, aren’t you, Beta?”

Prim dismissed the man instantly as uninteresting and stepped forward to engage one of the largest and best-looking of the kilts in conversation, clearly having decided that Rue had this encounter well in hand. Quesnel stayed fixed at Rue’s elbow, although blessedly disinclined to open his mouth.

The unassuming Englishman gave Rue a little bow. He had sandy hair and pleasing if unmemorable features arranged under a small set of spectacles. His evening attire was perfectly appropriate to the place and venue but nothing more, with no hint of modishness. Everything about him was simple, unadulterated, and proper. Rue was not surprised that she hadn’t noticed him when the pack first entered the room. He hadn’t wanted her to.

“How do you do, Lady Akeldama?” said the man. “Professor Randolph Lyall, at your service.”

Rue had heard somewhat of Professor Lyall. She knew he had been her father’s Beta but left when she was too young to remember. He’d gone off to take up the mantle of Kingair Pack Beta, and Uncle Rabiffano, newly made werewolf at the time, had taken his place at Rue’s father’s side. Professor Lyall wasn’t spoken of often by the London Pack, but when they did it was with a respectful wistfulness. Even Uncle Channing, who didn’t really like anyone but himself, hadn’t a bad word to say about Professor Lyall.