Felicity opened her mouth again.

“Now, Felicity.” Lady Maccon was at her most dictatorial.

Much to everyone’s surprise, including Felicity’s, Felicity went.

Lord Akeldama tilted his head at Boots and gave a little nod after the retreating girl. With no verbal exchange required, Boots trotted obediently after Felicity. Biffy looked on wistfully. Alexia surmised that he was not yearning for Felicity’s continued company but was regretting the fact that he could no longer obey Lord Akeldama’s commands.

She brought him back around sharply. No sense in letting him dwell. “Biffy, did you have something to tell me or Lord Akeldama?”

“You, my lady. I am pleased to report that you have been successfully moved. The new house awaits your perusal and, hopefully, approval.”

“Excellent! I should—Oh wait. Lord Akeldama, I keep meaning to ask. And while I’m in your company, if I may?”

“Yes, my little syllabub?”

“Do you recall, I was describing those porcupines to you? Or overgrown hedgehogs, or whatever their species inclination, from several nights ago? I was thinking, they were also ever so slightly vampiric in propensity. Their speed and their old dark blood and their susceptibility to the lapis solaris. Is that possible, do you think—vampire porcupines?”

Lord Akeldama’s eyes lit with amusement. “Oh, my dearest girl, what will you think of next? Weregoats? Be on your guard, for at full moon they shall creep into your coat closet and eat up all your shoes!”

Biffy hid a smile.

Alexia was not in the mood to be mocked.

Lord Akeldama recovered his much-vaunted poise. “My darling toffee button, you can be quite the widgeon upon occasion. Animals do not have souls. How could they possibly? Next thing you know, I’ll be petitioning Countess Nadasdy to bite old fatty there so I can have company into my dotage.” He gestured to his cat. The chubby creature had delusions of being a vicious hunter but could never master anything more taxing than a pillow tassel. Or, on one recent and memorable occasion, one of Ivy’s hats. Lady Maccon shuddered at the recollection. Why had she thought she could bring Ivy to tea with a vampire? Her dearest friend may have taken to the stage of late, but she was still not ready for intimate exposure to Lord Akeldama’s brand of drama. Nor was Lord Akeldama entirely capable of withstanding intimate exposure to one of Ivy’s hats. After that tea, Alexia had been forced to admit that Lord Akeldama and Ivy Tunstell were like plaid and brocade, utterly incompatible even in complementary colors.

At which juncture someone else came into Lord Akeldama’s drawing room, only this time without announcement of any kind save a minor bellow.

“Good gracious me,” said Lord Akeldama, sounding like some dowager countess of old Georgian inclination. “What has my house become? Charring Cross Station?”

Biffy looked to Lady Maccon, resplendent in her tentlike gown of eyelet lace and blue satin bows. “More akin to a dirigible landing green, I should think, my lord.”