“No doubt because they feared the repercussions of inciting your wrath, Your Grace.” Henry somehow managed to say that with a perfectly straight face.

“I wanted to assure you that nothing like it will happen again. The city is now under martial law, and the queen is sending additional troops from England by airship. That should put an end to talk of rebellion.”

In Which I Gain a New Perspective on the City

IN WHICH I GAIN A NEW PERSPECTIVE ON THE CITY

I was glad the governor wasn’t looking at me because my dismay had to be evident on my face. “Oh?” Lord Henry said with the mild interest he usually showed for Flora’s talk of clothing. “Then I can tell the servants we don’t have to keep an armed watch tonight. Will there be a curfew? I’m studying nocturnal species, and my research will be hampered if I can’t go out at night.”

The governor glanced heavenward, as though offering a silent prayer for patience. “The curfew won’t apply to magisters, but I’d prefer you remain home with my grandchildren until the crisis has been contained. Or if that will interfere with your studies, I would be happy to send them to England, where I can ensure their safety.”

“Surely that won’t be necessary,” Lord Henry said tightly. “I’m confident those highly disciplined and brave British soldiers will be able to maintain the peace and protect us from the dangerous radicals. The children will be fine. Would you care to see them? I can have them come down.”

“Not today, Lyndon. I only came to check on your household and let you know about the restrictions before they’re announced. You’ll be allowed anywhere, of course, but tradesmen may undergo particular scrutiny, so you’ll need to plan accordingly.”

“Just make sure that Flora’s music teacher can get here, or she’ll drive me quite mad,” Lord Henry said with a smile.

“Consider my offer to send the children to England, Lyndon. Good day. I’ll show myself out.” With a brusque nod to me, the governor headed for the doorway. Then he paused and turned back. “Miss Newton, is it? I don’t suppose your father is a Professor Newton at Yale?”

“He is, Your Grace.”

He smiled ever so slightly and nodded. “I met your parents once, years ago, when I sponsored an academic symposium of colonial scholars where your father presented an important paper. I trust your parents are well?”

“My father is, but my mother is no longer with us.”

“I am terribly sorry to hear that. My deepest condolences. Your mother was a lovely woman—the only person at that symposium whose conversation I understood.” He looked so sad that I felt his sympathies were more than just a social nicety.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”