Ivy blushed beet red, apparently mortified by what she must now relate given Alexia’s failed powers of observation. She lowered her voice. “I am very eager for the tea.” This garnered no response from the confused Alexia, as Ivy wasn’t drinking it. So Ivy soldiered bravely on. “I am—oh, dear, how to put this delicately?—anticipating a familial increase.”

“Why, Ivy, I didn’t know you expected any kind of inheritance.”

“Oh, no.” Ivy’s blush deepened. “Not that kind of increase.” She nodded significantly toward Alexia’s portly form.

“Ivy! You are pregnant!”

“Oh, Alexia, really, must you say it so loudly?”

“Felicitations, indeed. How delightful.”

Ivy moved the conversation hurriedly onward. “And Tunny and I have decided to form our own dramatic association.”

Lady Maccon paused to reinterpret this confession. “Ivy, are you saying you intend to establish an acting troupe?”

Mrs. Tunstell nodded, her curls bouncing. “Tunny thinks it a good plan to start a new family of players as well as a new family, as he is keen on saying.”

A family, indeed, Alexia thought. Having left the werewolf pack, Tunstell must be trying, in his own way, to build a new pack for himself. “Well,” she said, “I do wish you all the best luck in the world. However, Ivy—and I do not mean to be crude—how have you managed to gather the means to fund such an undertaking?”

Ivy blushed and lowered her eyes. “I was dispatched to consult you on just such a subject. I understand Woolsey is quite enthusiastic in its patronage of artistic endeavors. Tunny implied you even had some capital invested in a circus!”

“Indeed, but, Ivy, for obvious reasons, those are in the interest of furthering the pack. Claviger recruitment and so forth. Tunstell has voluntarily severed any such connection.”

Ivy nodded glumly. “I thought you would say as much.”

“Now, wait just a moment. I’m not so feeble a friend as to abandon anyone, especially you, my dear, when in need.” Lady Maccon frowned in thought. “Perhaps I could dip into my own coffers. You may not be aware, but my father left me rather well set up, and Conall is quite generous with a weekly allowance. We have never discussed my personal income, but he seems disinterested in my financial affairs. I am convinced he shouldn’t object if I were to become a patron of the arts. Why should Woolsey have all the fun?”

“Oh, Alexia, really? I couldn’t ask such a thing of you!” protested Ivy in a tone that suggested this had been her objective in calling all along.

“No, no.” Alexia was becoming rather entranced with the proposal. “I think it a capital idea. I wonder if I might ask a rather odd favor in return?”

Ivy looked amenable to anything that might further her husband’s goal. “Oh, please do.”

Alexia grappled with how exactly to phrase this next question without exposing too much of her nature to her dear friend. She had never told Ivy of her preternatural state, nor of her post as muhjah and the general investigative endeavors that resulted.