“Please don’t be facetious at a time like this. No, there is only one thing for it – we must leave London at once.”

“What, early? Before the party?”

“Yes – early. Just as Percy suggested. The better current is tomorrow morning anyway. As if I could show my face at a party when word of this gets out.”

“But Dama would never forgive me.”

“Dama would forgive you anything.”

“Good point. Except possibly wearing a sun hat for evening calls.”

Primrose was too distressed for the joke. “Oh, goodness, what if he finds out too? Rue, we must leave! Immediately!”

“Agreed. The hat requires it. Do be more careful from here on out though, please. I wouldn’t want my ship to get a reputation.”

Primrose nodded earnestly. “Not a hat will be left unturned. This I vow.”

Rue took a last bite of supper. “Well then, we will have to finish preparations tonight. Luckily most of us are still on board. Percy’s trapped in the library. Quesnel elected to stay overnight as well. I’ll make sure the rest of the crew is here, if you’ll check on the staff and the supplies?”

“Of course.”

Rue stood and addressed the cat. “Let’s find out what time that optimal morning current was. Coming, Footnote? I need to talk to your master. Prim, you’d better come too, help mollify the beast.”

Footnote burped at her and led the way to the library. The two ladies followed.

Percy was not pleased to have the plans changed again so soon. “But I did all the calculations for the more complicated night departure. Now you want to go back to the first float scheme?”

“Yes. We decided you were right all along,” said Rue, swiftly forestalling further objections.

Percy sputtered to a halt. “Oh. Well, yes, naturally. Of course I was right.”

“So what time is that superior current you found for us?” Rue pressed.

Primrose wore a look of distaste at Rue buttering her brother up but held her tongue since it was her fault.

Percy scattered his notes every which way, looking for the earlier schedule. “Eight minutes past nine in the morning.”

Prim couldn’t help it: she groaned. “Such an inhuman hour.”

“Such an unfashionable hour,” corrected Rue. “All too human – that’s the point. It’s after sunrise. No supernatural parents to see us off. No drones.”

Rue couldn’t help a little thrill at the idea of sneaking away. She adored all three of her parents but they were awfully prone to drama. Paw would cry – she knew he would. Lord Maccon might be the biggest, baddest Alpha werewolf in all England but he was a big old softy where his daughter was concerned. Mother would order her around. Dama would fuss over her clothing selection. Better to escape in secrecy. Thank goodness for Prim’s unexpected fashion faux pas – it was going to make Rue’s life so much easier.