“The queen thinks it’s a good plan.” That was Professor Lyall joining the fray. His was probably the most genuine regret, as he disliked confrontation. He was also the one truly responsible for this plot, unless Alexia was very wrong in her estimation of his character.

“Bully for the ruddy queen. Absolutely not—I refuse.”

“Now, Alexia, my dearest, be reasonable.” Her husband was trying to wheedle. He wasn’t very good at it—wheedling looked odd on a man of his proportions and monthly inclinations.

“Reasonable? Go boil your head in reasonable!”

Lord Akeldama tried a new tactic. “I have already converted the room next to mine into a positively charming nursery, my little pomegranate seed.”

Lady Maccon was really quite shocked to hear that. She paused in her wrath and her waddling to blink at the vampire in surprise. “Not your second closet? Never that.”

“Indeed. You see how seriously I am taking this, my dearest petal? I have relocated clothing for you.”

“For my child, you mean.” But Alexia was impressed despite herself.

She looked to Lyall for assistance and tried desperately to calm herself and behave as practically as possible. “And this will stop the attacks?”

Professor Lyall nodded, pushing his spectacles up with one finger. They were an affectation—he had no need of them—but they gave him something to hide behind. And something to fiddle with. “I believe so. I have not, of course, been able to consult with any queens outright. The hives refuse to admit to an extermination mandate, and BUR has not yet determined how to prove definitively the vampires are”—he coughed gently—“trying to kill your child. And by default, you.”

Alexia knew that the Bureau of Unnatural Registry was handicapped by a combination of paperwork and proper appearances. That is to say, because it was the enforcing body for England’s supernatural and preternatural subjects, it had to seem at all times to be obeying its own laws, including those that guaranteed the packs and the hives some level of autonomy and self-governance.

“Monsieur Trouvé’s homicidal mechanical ladybugs?”

“Never did trace the vampires’ agent in Europe.”

“The exploding gravy boat?”

“No appreciable evidence left behind.”

“The flaming Mongolian poodle?”

“No connection to any known dealer.”

“The poisoned dirigible meal that Mr. Tunstell consumed in my stead?”

“Well, given the general foulness of food while floating, that could simply have been a coincidence.” Professor Lyall removed his spectacles and began to clean the clear lenses with a spotless white handkerchief.

“Oh, Professor Lyall, are you making a funny? It doesn’t suit you.”

The sandy-haired Beta gave Lady Maccon a dour look. “I am exploring new personality avenues.”

“Well, stop it.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Alexia straightened her spine as much as her protruding belly would allow and looked down her nose at Professor Lyall where he sat, legs crossed elegantly. “Explain to me how you have arrived at this solution. Also, given that you have not proposed this scheme to the hives, how do you know with such confidence that it will stop this annoying little tick they seem to have developed wherein they continually try to murder me?”