“Unfortunately, no.” Rue grimaced, snapped the secret compartment shut and closed the snuff box. She went to hand it over to Dama but then held on to it.

“India, did you say, Dama?”

“India, my darling heart. I have specialist tea contacts in that area ready to meet with you and facilitate this endeavour.”

“Of course you do.” But Rue was smiling.

“Doesn’t everyone have specialist tea contacts?” Dama smiled back.

“Mother and Paw approve your plan?”

“Ah, yes, well, I haven’t exactly talked to your blood parents on the subject yet.”

“Oh dear,” said Prim. She adored Dama and his drones, and could cope very well with vampires, having been raised in a hive, but she was rather terrified of Rue’s blood parents. The formidable Lord and Lady Maccon were both prone to yelling loudly and bashing the noggins of those whose opinions did not mesh with theirs. Even though they had grown up best friends, Primrose had rarely been exposed to them. Rue had rarely been exposed to them, for that matter.

Primrose was frowning. “How will we get to India?”

Dama brightened. He had been waiting for this question. “Aha! Now that, my posy, is an answer I believe Puggle here will very much enjoy.”

Rue, intrigued, gave him what he wanted – the snuff box.

Dama took it carefully so as not to disturb the contents or to touch her hand. He slid it inside his waistcoat pocket. The waistcoat was made of gold lace over fine teal silk with jet buttons, and looked to be so tight a pocket would not accommodate a gooseberry, let alone a snuff box. Nevertheless, it disappeared within, as if by magic.

The vampire was about to tell them more when his head jerked up. He bared his fangs, showing the full length. His nostrils flared as if he scented something in the air.

Rue was instantly on guard. “What?”

Dama held up one unnaturally pale hand to quiet her. His perfect face, too beautiful, narrowed and became hunter-like. “Intruder.”

The door knocker reverberated sharp and loud.

They all jumped to stand.

A rustle and a clatter emanated from the hallway and a drone’s pleasant voice said, “What ho?” to whomever was on the other side of the door. There was a soft murmur of exchanged pleasantries. Then the drone said loudly, trained to be at a level that his vampire master could hear from the drawing room, “No, you may not come in. Not invited. But I’ll fetch her for you, if you insist.”

A moment later a tentative knock came at the drawing room door. “My lord?”

“Yes, Winkle?”