Lieutenant Broadwattle angled himself so as to shield Rue with his body from the curious eyes of party attendees. He handed her a slip of paper. Rue glance at it briefly – it was notations on a grid, which she recognised as a received aetherographic transmission. Unfortunately, there were no letters but instead it featured only a series of numbers and spaces.

Rue knew a code when she saw one. This was some kind of message. “No cypher?”

The young man looked genuinely shocked. “My dear lady, I am only the redundancy agent. Newly minted, I am not privy…”

“Yes, yes, you are not privy to any secrets.” Rue tucked the slip of paper down the bodice of her dress, much to the young man’s embarrassment. “Now that Miss Tunstell’s reputation is in tatters, shall we rejoin the party? I believe we have given them enough gossip for one evening.”

“Indeed. Possibly even more than the kidnapping. At least that was respectable. This is good for my reputation, however.” The young officer smiled at her and Rue wondered if he really was one of Dama’s boys, as it were, and needed to establish notoriety as a lady’s man. Or if he were simply referring to barracks bragging rights.

A thought occurred to her as they strode back, arms linked. “What happened to his previous agent?”

“Lord Akeldama didn’t give you the name of your contact?” Lieutenant Broadwattle was surprised.

“He did not.” Rue was beginning to regret her decision to sneak off in the wee hours of daylight without saying goodbye to Dama. Clearly, she had missed more than fond farewells. “I departed precipitously, for fashion reasons.”

“His first agent was Mrs Featherstonehaugh.”

“Oh dear,” said Rue dropping his arm.

As soon as they joined the throng about the refreshment table, Quesnel and Prim abandoned Mrs Godwit and attached themselves, one on each side of Rue.

“Rue,” hissed Primrose. “What are you about? My reputation!”

Quesnel added, “Yes, her reputation. Not to mention you’re flirting shamelessly with that sorry excuse for an officer.”

“Oh, stop it, both of you. He’s Dama’s not-so-specialist tea contact.”

“What?” said both accusers as one.

“Keep your voices down. We’ll discuss it later.”

Quesnel would not let the matter drop. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

This inexplicably annoyed Rue. “Mr Lefoux, I always enjoy myself at a garden party. And now, I believe the regimental werewolves have arrived.”

The werewolves made a grand entrance. They could hardly do otherwise. The pack was a standard size, looking to be eight or so members, but above-standard on an individual level. Each man was built on the brick wall end of the spectrum of human shape. They were also scruffy, boisterous, and wearing exotic formal wear. This involved a plaid skirt-like object instead of trousers. Luckily, Rue had been warned of this garment on more than one occasion.