Mrs. Tunstell nodded, cheeks still hot. “Yes, of course, Alexia, but—”

“It is a good thing I am to be patroness of your acting troupe, as it is the perfect way to hide pecuniary advancements.”

“Oh, yes, indeed, Alexia. But I wish you didn’t insist on mentioning such things while we are eating—”

“We shall say nothing more on the subject. Can you leave directly?”

“Tunny has no performances on at the moment.”

“Then I shall send Floote tomorrow with the necessary papers.” Lady Maccon finished the last of her tea and stood. She was suddenly tired. It was as though she had been out and about most of the night, sorting out the problems of the entire empire. Which, in her way, she had.

Mrs. Tunstell stood as well. “To Scotland I go, investigating assignation attempts of the past!”

“Assassination,” corrected Lady Maccon.

“Yes, that. I must find my extra special hairmuffs for dirigible travel. I had them made to match my own curls. They are rather stunning, if I do say so myself.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

Lady Maccon returned to her new house and then made her way across to Lord Akeldama’s. Floote’s builders produced exemplary work. They had constructed a small secret drawbridge between the two balconies that operated by way of a hydraulic lever. It flipped downward. At the same time an elaborate spring mechanism caused the railing on each balcony to fold away. This allowed Alexia to easily traverse from one building to the next despite encumbrances.

She retired to her closet with alacrity. She had been keeping remarkably odd hours recently, what with having to consult daylight folk yet living with the supernatural set. It was of little consequence, as the infant-inconvenience was making it increasingly arduous to sleep for any length of time without some part of her body going numb or some unmentionable function driving her out of bed. Really, pregnancy was the most undignified thing she had ever had to endure in all her life, and for several years Alexia Tarabotti had been a confirmed spinster living with the Loontwills—a most undignified state—so that was saying something.

She slept restlessly, shifting aside when her husband joined her only to be awakened fully just after sunset by someone banging on the closet door.

“Conall, there is someone at the door to our bedroom!” She shook her massive husband where he lay in a boneless pile next to her.

He snuffled softly and rolled over, trying to gather her in closer. He had to settle for patting her belly absently and burrowing into her neck.

Alexia arched against him as much as she was able, enjoying the affection and the movement of his lips against her skin. For such a scruffy man, he had very soft lips.

“Darling, light of my life, lord of my heart, there is someone at the door to our closet, seeking entrance. And I don’t believe Lord Akeldama and his boys are awake yet.”

The earl merely burrowed in against her with greater interest, apparently finding the flavor of her neck most intriguing.