“Yes, dear.”

Alexia twisted her lips together in contemplation, trying to come up with something else to gripe about. “Oh, I do hate being cooped up.” She picked at the blanket draped over her belly.

“Now you know how Biffy feels.”

Lady Maccon’s temper softened at the mention of the dandy. “How is he?”

“Well. I have taken your suggestion under advisement, my dear, and I am trying a gentler approach—less firmness of manner.”

“Now that I should like to see.”

“I have been sitting and talking him through the change at sunset. Rumpet suggested some light music might help as well. So I have Burbleson—you remember Catogan Burbleson, that new musically minded claviger we recruited last month?—playing violin all the while. A nice soothing piece of European fluff. Hard to tell if any of this is helping, but my efforts don’t seem to be making the poor boy feel any worse.”

Alexia was suspicious. “Is young Catogan any good on the violin?”

“Rather.”

“Well, perhaps he could come play a bit for me, then? I must say, Conall, it is exceedingly dull being bedridden.”

Her husband grunted at that—his version of a sympathetic murmur.

Eventually, the earl resorted to pulling Floote back from London in order to cater to Alexia’s whims. No one could manage Lady Maccon quite so well as Floote. As a result, most of Woolsey’s library and a goodly number of newspapers and Royal Society pamphlets took up residence about Alexia’s bed, and her imperious bell ringing and strident demands ebbed slightly. She began receiving hourly reassurances that Queen Victoria was under guard. Her Majesty’s Growlers, special werewolf bodyguards, were on high alert, and in deference to the muhjah’s conviction that werewolves might be a risk factor, there was also a rove vampire and four Swiss guards in attendance at all times.

Lord Akeldama sent Boots around with not only inquiries as to Lady Maccon’s health, but also a small spate of useful information. The ghosts around London seemed to be in turmoil, for they were appearing and disappearing and wafting here and there, whispering dire threats concerning imminent danger. If queried directly, none of them seemed to know exactly what was going on, but the ghostly community was certainly all aflutter about something.

Alexia went nearly spare at this information combined with the fact that she was unable to rush off to London at that very moment in order to continue inquiries. She turned from demanding to positively imperious and made life rather unbearable for those unfortunate enough to be at Woolsey. As full moon was just around the corner, older members of the pack were out running, hunting, or working in the moonlight hours and the youngsters were now locked in with Biffy. This meant only the household staff really had to suffer the yoke of Lady Maccon’s impatience, and Floote, ever saintly, undertook the bulk of her amusement.

No one was particularly surprised when on the evening of the fifth day, even Floote’s powers failed and Lady Maccon threw off her covers, put weight upon her ankle, which seemed perfectly functional, if a tad achy, and pronounced herself fit enough for a carriage ride into London. No, what surprised everyone was that she had lasted that long.