“Thank you, Floote.”

The butler took a very firm grip on Felicity’s arm and began leading her off.

“Oh, and, Floote, please send someone to check around the rubble of the Westminster Hive house right away, before the scavengers get there. I believe I accidentally dropped my parasol. And there might be some nice bits of art lying about.”

Floote didn’t even flinch at the knowledge that one of the most respected residences in London was now in ruins. “Of course, madam. I assume it is now permitted to give out the address?”

Lady Maccon gave it to him.

He moved smoothly off, dragging the protesting Felicity behind him.

“Sister, really, this is uncalled for. Is it the tooth marks? Is that what has you overset? There are only a few.”

“Miss Felicity,” Alexia heard Floote say, “do try to behave.”

Boots, finished mooring down the dirigible, came up next to Alexia and offered her his arm. “Lady Maccon?”

She took it gratefully. The infant-inconvenience really was being quite troublesome at the moment. She felt as though she’d swallowed a fighting ferret.

“Perhaps you could take me to the, uh, closet, Mr. Bootbottle-Fipps? I feel I ought to lie down. Just for a moment, mind you. There is still a loose hive to deal with. I suppose I should try to determine where Countess Nadasdy has gone. And Madame Lefoux, of course. She should not be allowed to rampage.”

“Certainly not, my lady,” agreed Boots. Who clearly felt, as Alexia did, that rampaging under any circumstances was uncalled for.

They had barely made it off the roof and down the staircases toward Lord Akeldama’s second best closet when a panting drone appeared before them. He was a tall and comely fellow with an affable face, a mop of curly hair, and a loose, floppy way of walking. He also had the most poorly tied cravat Alexia had ever seen within walking distance of Lord Akeldama. She looked with shock at Boots.

“New drone,” Boots explained to Lady Maccon before turning amicably to face the young man.

“What ho, Boots!”

“Chip chip, Shabumpkin. Looking for me?”

“Rather!”

“Ah! Need a mo’ to see her ladyship squared away properly.”

“Oh, no, not just you, my dear chap. Looking for Lady Maccon as well. Care to follow?”

Alexia looked at the young man as though he had crawled from somewhere smelly. “Must I?”

“ ’Fraid so, your ladyship. Himself has called an emergency meeting of the Shadow Council,” explained the drone.

“But it’s full moon—the dewan can’t attend.”

“Several of us pointed this out to him. Niggling detail, said he.”

“Oh, dear. Not at Buckingham, I hope?” Alexia clutched at her stomach, appalled at the very idea of any further travel.

The dandy grinned. “In his drawing room, madam. Where else?”

“Oh, thank goodness. Have Floote follow me there, would you, please? Once he’s finished with his current line of business.”

“ ’Course, Lady Maccon. My pleasure.”

“Thank you, Mr., uh, Shabumpkin.”

At which Boots straightened his spine, took a firmer grip on Alexia’s arm, and guided her carefully down the next few sets of stairs and into Lord Akeldama’s infamous drawing room. Once there, Shabumpkin nodded to them amiably and gangled off.