Lady Maccon’s minions in this elaborate charade were three younger members of Woolsey’s pack: Biffy, Rafe, and Phelan (Biffy as catcher and the other two as porter and chucker, respectively); the ever-efficient Floote; and a positive bevy of Lord Akeldama’s drones scuttling about arranging everything just so.

After overseeing the tossing, Alexia repaired to monitor the arrangement of her new sleeping chamber. Lord Akeldama’s third closet was quite spacious, almost the size of her bedchamber back at Woolsey. Admittedly, there were no windows, and there were gratuitous hooks, shelves, and rails covering the walls. But there was also enough room for a large bed (specially commissioned by Lord Akeldama to accommodate Lord Maccon’s frame), a dressing table, and several other bits and bobs. Conall would have to make do without his dressing chamber, but since he was prone to wandering around underdressed, anyway, Alexia suspected this would not affect his habits detrimentally. The lack of a proper valet concerned her for about five seconds before she realized no drone of Lord Akeldama’s would allow her husband passage through their hallways in anything less than tip-top, wrinkle-free condition.

Biffy was in his element, free to wander once more the luxurious, colorful, and somewhat effervescent corridors of his former master. Of all Alexia’s acquaintances, Biffy was the most thrilled by the new cohabitation scheme. He was far more comfortable bustling about hanging Alexia’s hats on hooks than he had been for the last five months at Woolsey Castle. One might even have described him as gay, no longer weighed down by the sport destiny had made of his afterlife.

The drones couldn’t have been more excited if Queen Victoria were gracing them with her presence. A female in their midst, a baby in their future, and a room to decorate in the interim—pure heaven. After a brief scuffle over repapering the walls, it was decided, wholly without Alexia’s say-so, that a new carpet and some additional lighting were sufficient to brighten up the closet.

Once Covert Operation Fling Furniture was concluded, the two other werewolves jumped easily from one balcony to the other and came to see if there was anything further their Alpha female wished of them. There was a good deal more, as she readily informed them. She desired the bed be moved slightly to the right and her armoire moved to the other side of the room, and then back again. Also the drones wished to inquire as to the werewolves’ opinion on the matter of stacking Lady Maccon’s hatboxes, and the correct order in which to hang Lord Maccon’s cloaks.

By the end, Rafe wore the long-suffering look of an eagle being ordered about by a flock of excited pigeons.

Floote heralded completion by coming in with the last of Lady Maccon’s most prized possessions: her parasol, dispatch case, and jewelry box.

“What do you think, Floote?”

“It’s rather glossy, madam.”

“No, not that. What do you think about the whole arrangement?”

They had been organizing and packing for several days, and Floote had taken charge of leasing the house adjacent to Lord Akeldama’s (although not, much to the vampire’s disappointment, repainting it), but Alexia had not found the time to consult with him on his opinion of the scheme itself.