“Well, yes, but this couldn’t wait for evening. And such interesting evidence I have uncovered. Now where did I put my pen?” She began patting about her lap—what there was left of it—in annoyance.

Professor Lyall produced a stylographic pen from his waistcoat and passed it to her. Alexia nodded her thanks.

“You really believe that this new threat has some connection to the old Kingair attempt?” he asked while she made a note in the margin of one of the journals.

“It seems likely.”

“Your evidence appears to be circumstantial at best.”

“Never discount serendipity. Would you be so kind as to have some of these potions analyzed? Also, I should like to see BUR’s report regarding the Kingair failed assassination and my husband’s subsequent challenge for Woolsey Alpha, plus any corresponding postings in the popular press.”

Professor Lyall looked rather pained. “If you insist, my lady.”

“I do.”

“Give me a few hours to organize everything? The laboratory will take some time with those samples—several days, at least—but I shall bring the other items you requested back with me.”

“Oh, no need. I shall jaunt to BUR after I call on Madame Lefoux and file the appropriate requisition forms myself.”

“Ah, had you intended—?”

“Not until I traced this OBO connection. Of course, Genevieve would have had nothing to do with OBO operations twenty years ago, being only a small child, but still it is worth making inquiries. She knows things. Not to mention the fact that Ivy ran into a ghost in that area the other night. Can’t possibly be the same ghost—no tether stretches so far—but there must be a connection to our mysterious messenger.”

“If you must, my lady. But this time do please take Biffy with you.”

“Of course. I shall be glad of the company. Shall we go in to supper?”

Professor Lyall nodded gratefully and they arose to make their way to the dining room.

“What ho, wife?”

Conall Maccon thumped down the stairs looking far more pulled together than Alexia had ever seen him in all their acquaintance. His cravat, a becoming ethereal azure that perfectly complemented his tawny eyes, was tied Nabog style over unusually high collar points. His shirt was tucked to perfection, his waistcoat seamless, and the sleeves of his jacket just so. As a direct result, he was also looking rather uncomfortable.

“My goodness, husband. How handsome you are this evening! Did the drones get hold of you?”

The earl give his wife a very telling stare before sweeping down upon her and planting a kiss on her lips right in front of the embarrassed gazes of Lyall, Floote, and a small number of household staff.

Alexia’s limited mobility prevented her from any evasive maneuvers. Like some wanton hussy, she could do nothing but endure his amorous attentions with blushes and sputterings of delighted horror.

He pulled back finally. “Excellent, best way to start one’s evening. Wouldn’t you agree, gentlemen?”

Professor Lyall rolled his eyes at his Alpha’s antics, and Floote bustled quickly off about his business.