Her husband did not miss the fact that this statement would have to bow to his wife’s definition of the term necessary. He was, therefore, not at all reassured. “At least take one of the pups with you on your investigations.”

Lady Maccon narrowed her eyes.

The earl wheedled. “I should feel much better knowing someone had care of your physical safety. Even if the vampires are abstaining—and we’ve no guarantee yet that they are—you do tend to get yourself into certain predicaments. Now, it’s not that I think you are incapable, my dear, simply that you are currently much less mobile.”

Alexia did have to admit his reasoning. “Very well. But if I am to troll about with a companion, I want it to be Biffy.”

The earl did not approve this selection at all. “Biffy! He’s a new pup. He can’t even control the change. What good could he possibly be?”

“It’s Biffy or nobody.” Typical of my husband to see only Biffy’s limitations as a werewolf and not his admirable abilities as a human.

For the young dandy was, indeed, quite accomplished. Much to Lord Maccon’s disgust, he had taken over many of the duties of lady’s maid to his new mistress. Alexia had never bothered to hire a replacement for Angelique. Biffy’s taste was impeccable, and he had a real eye for which hairstyles and fabrics would suit her best—better than Angelique, who had been good but rather more daringly French than Lady Maccon liked. Biffy, for all his audacious inclinations when it came to his own apparel, knew how to be sensible when it came to a lady who scurried around whacking at automatons and climbing into ornithopters.

“It isn’t a wise choice.” Lord Maccon’s jaw was set.

No one else had yet joined them at the dining table. It was a rare thing in a pack to enjoy any privacy outside the bedroom. Alexia took advantage of their seclusion. She scooted toward her husband and rested her hand atop his on the fine lace tablecloth.

“Biffy has had Lord Akeldama’s training. That is a skill set that branches away from being merely a dab hand with the curling tongs.”

The earl snorted.

“I am not only thinking of my own comfort in this matter. He needs some kind of distraction, Conall. Haven’t you noticed? Five months and he’s still not settled.”

The earl twisted his lips slightly to one side. He had noticed. Of course he had. He noticed everything about his wolves. It was part of his most essential being, to hold the pack together as a single cohesive entity. Alexia had read the papers; scientists called it the soul’s intrinsic cross-linking of the essential humors, the enmatterment of aether. But she could also guess the truth of it: that just as vampires and ghosts became tethered to a place, so werewolves became tethered to a pack. Biffy’s all too frequent melancholy must hurt Conall terribly.

“How will allowing him to accompany you help?”