Quesnel disposed of their hats and returned to sit. “Mon petit chou, you are a strange creature. Lovely, of course, but strange. Are you feeling better, Miss Tunstell?”

Prim was still pale. Rue knew from experience that this was nothing a nice pot of Assam couldn’t put right, plus a bit of gooseberry charlotte and maybe some candied orange peel.

Quesnel’s solicitousness was touching, if rather more than strictly necessary. Still, Rue was disposed to think kindly upon anyone who liked Primrose. She was accustomed to losing male attention to her friend, and couldn’t really fault anyone for it. Much as Percy was deadly attractive to the ladies, his sister had a similar effect on the gentlemen. Rue gave a little mental sigh. No one would ever describe her as deadly attractive. She brightened a bit. Perhaps she could aspire to just deadly?

A girl in a pink and white striped pinafore arrived to take their order, and in a very short time they had a pot of tea, an orange with sugar on it for Rue, a gooseberry charlotte for Prim, and a welsh rarebit for Quesnel. Quesnel admitted shamefully that he did not very much like sweets. Dangerous character flaw, that.

Despite the revelation of this appalling shortcoming, it was a delightfully refined repast. Prim’s colour returned and Quesnel resumed distributing his attention equally. They might even have been said to be having a good time… until the lioness attacked.

CHAPTER SIX

A LIONESS IN A TEAHOUSE

Of course, it was startling. It’s simply not the thing one expects of a teahouse, even when travelling abroad, even miles up in an airship docking tower. Especially not miles up in an airship docking tower. But there was most assuredly a lioness among them. She came in through the front door, setting the bells tinkling like any ordinary patron, and then setting everyone screaming. Rue thought this a little much; after all, if a lioness wanted tea, why not give it to her? The animal in question was a sleek, beautiful creature, all golden fur and rippling muscles, but apparently intent on wreaking carnage and not on ordering tea. Whatever else was going on in that furry head, the cat clearly did not appreciate teahouses.

Do cats, Rue wondered, as a rule object to teahouses? If so, then there is something very much to be said in favour of dogs.

“But there is a sign!” objected Primrose in semi-shock. “A sign indicating pets aren’t permitted. Really, some people.”

While Primrose protested the indelicacy of it all, Rue resorted to some of Dama’s less official training. She shoved their table over and grabbed Prim by the arm, pulling her down to take refuge behind it. Not that the lioness was firing projectiles, but Rue thought that at least if they were out of sight they might enjoy a modicum of safety.

Everyone else ran for the door or the kitchen.