Accustomed to her daughter’s stubbornness, Lady Maccon turned to the vampire. Her famous Italian glare pierced Dama. “What’s are you two hiding?”

Dama looked equally innocent. “Us? Nothing, gooseberry pearl. Nothing at all.”

Lady Maccon leaned forward and grabbed Dama’s hand. At the contact, the vampire turned mortal. Her power wasn’t like Rue’s – she didn’t take on the vampire’s abilities, and the effect wouldn’t last once she let go, but she did turn him human. It was this skill that made her soulless, and made most vampires loathe her upon the very realisation of her preternatural state. Of course, once her personality asserted itself, vampires tended to loathe Rue’s mother for her own sake.

“Lord Akeldama, I will not have you involving my daughter in some seedy tea extraction mission!”

Dama sat back, affronted. “My darling girl.”

Rue leapt to his defence. “When has Dama ever done anything even remotely seedy?”

“Of course, infant, permit me to rephrase. I will not allow you to involve my daughter in some stylish tea extraction mission, either.”

“Could we say ‘stylish tea infusion mission’?” Dama suggested meekly.

Rue was not going to let her mother coerce her Dama. She mounted a secondary defence. “Pish-tosh, Mother. May I kindly remind you that I am all grown up and perfectly capable of making my own tea-related decisions.”

“Like rampaging around London in your bloomers?”

“I wasn’t in human form, no one knew it was me. At least, not until the tether to Uncle Rabiffano snapped.”

“So it was you? Oh dear me, the scandal! You’ll have to retire to the countryside until it blows over at the very least. How will we keep this out of the popular press?”

Rue felt like stamping her foot, but didn’t on principal. “Of course it was me. And I will certainly not go to the countryside.”

“I hope you learnt something from this,” said her mother, looking a little hopeless.

“Frankly, all I learnt is that I must give up bloomers. Perhaps a short silk underskirt would work better? It’s the tail, you see, it rips the seams.”

“And what on earth has happen to your stays, young lady?”

“Pshaw, Mother. I gave up wearing corsetry years ago. Far too inconvenient. And so old-fashioned.”

“Oh mercy me, how did I not know this? What kind of child have I raised?”

“I got permission!” Rue whined.

Her mother whirled on Dama. “This is what comes of your overindulgence! My daughter prancing around in split bloomers!”

Dama only smiled, his fangs politely tucked away. “My dear sugarplum, be reasonable. I would never allow my daughter to go without proper foundation. It wasn’t me who gave her said permission.”

Rue’s mother threw her head back and yelled at the top of her lungs, “Conall! Get your furry posterior in here post haste!”