Blameless

“Tea, Professor Lyall, or would you prefer something, uh, bloodier?”

“Tea would be lovely, Mrs. Tunstell.”

“You are certain? I have some delightful kidney set aside for a pie tomorrow, and it is getting on to full moon.”

Professor Lyall smiled. “Your husband has been telling you things about living with werewolves, hasn’t he?”

Ivy blushed slightly. “Perhaps a little. I am afraid I have been terribly nosy. I find your culture fascinating. I do hope you do not think me impertinent.”

“Not at all. But, really, just tea would be perfectly fine.”

Ivy nodded to her maid, and the young girl scuttled off, clearly excited.

“We don’t get many visitors of your caliber,” lamented Ivy.

Professor Lyall was too much a gentleman to remark that Miss Hisselpenny’s elopement, and consequent loss of what little status she’d had, made her a less than desirable acquaintance for most. Only a high-ranking original, as Lady Maccon had been, could afford to continue such an association. Now that Alexia herself had fallen from grace, Ivy must be a veritable social pariah.

“How is the hat shop coming on?”

Mrs. Tunstell’s big hazel eyes lit up with pleasure. “Well, I have only had it under my charge for the one day. Of course, I kept it open this evening as well. I know Madame Lefoux caters to the supernatural set, but you would not believe the things one overhears in a hat shop. Only this afternoon, I learned Miss Wibbley was engaged.”

Prior to Ivy’s marriage, Professor Lyall knew she had relied upon Alexia, who was at best disinterested and at worst obtuse, for all her society gossip. As a result, Ivy had been in a constant state of frustration.

“So you are enjoying yourself?”

“Immeasurably. I never thought trade could be so very entertaining. Why, this evening, Miss Mabel Dair paid us a call. The actress, you’ve heard of her?” Ivy looked to Professor Lyall inquiringly.

The werewolf nodded.

“Well, she came by to pick up a special order for Countess Nadasdy herself. I had no idea the countess even wore hats. I mean to say”—Ivy looked to Lyall in confusion—“she does not actually leave her house, does she?”

Professor Lyall highly doubted that a special order from Madame Lefoux for a vampire queen bore any resemblance whatsoever to a hat, aside from being transported inside a hatbox. But he perked up with interest. He had thought to ask Tunstell for information as to Lord Akeldama’s disappearance, given the vampire’s affection for the theater and Tunstell’s previous investigative training under Lyall’s tutelage, but perhaps Ivy might unwittingly have some information to impart. Mabel Dair, after all, was Countess Nadasdy’s favorite drone.

“And how did Miss Dair seem?” he asked carefully.

The maid returned and Ivy fussed with the tea trolley. “Oh, not at all the thing. Dear Miss Dair and I have become almost friendly since my marriage. She and Tunny have appeared onstage together. She was clearly most upset about something. And I said to her, I did, I said, ‘My dear Miss Dair,’ I said, ‘you do not look at all the thing! Would you like to sit, take a little tea?’ And I think she might have.” Ivy paused and studied Professor Lyall’s carefully impassive face. “You are aware, she is a bit of a, well, I hardly like to say it to a gentleman of your persuasion, but a, um, vampire drone.” Ivy whispered this as if she could not quite believe her own daring at being even a nodding acquaintance with such a person.

Professor Lyall smiled slightly. “Mrs. Tunstell, do you forget I work for the Bureau of Unnatural Registry? I am well aware of her status.”

“Oh, of course you are. How silly of me.” Ivy covered her embarrassment by pouring the tea. “Milk?”

“Please. And do go on. Did Miss Dair relay the nature of her distress?”

“Well, I do not think she intended me to overhear. She was discussing something with her companion. That tall, good-looking gentleman I met at Alexia’s wedding—Lord Ambrittle, I believe it was.”

“Lord Ambrose?”

“Yes, that! Such a nice man.”

Professor Lyall forbore to mention that Lord Ambrose was, in fact, a not very nice vampire.

“Well, apparently, dear Miss Dair caught the countess and some gentleman or another arguing. A potent gentleman, she kept saying, whatever that means. And she said she thought the countess was accusing this gentleman of having taken something from Lord Akeldama. Quite astonishing. Why would a potent man want to steal from Lord Akeldama?”

“Mrs. Tunstell,” Professor Lyall said very precisely and unhurriedly, “did Lord Ambrose notice that you had overheard this?”

“Why? Is it a matter of significance?” Ivy popped a sugared rose petal into her mouth and blinked at her guest.

“It is certainly intriguing.” Lyall took a cautious drink of his tea. It was excellent.

“I hate to speak ill of such a nice man, but I believe he did not recognize me. He may even have thought I was a genuine shopgirl. Shocking, I know, but I was standing behind a sales counter at the time.” She paused and sipped her tea. “I thought you might find the information useful.”

At that, Professor Lyall gave Mrs. Tunstell a sharp look. He wondered for the first time how much of Ivy was, in fact, comprised of dark curls and big eyes and ridiculous hats and how much of that was for show.

Ivy returned his direct gaze with a particularly innocent smile. “The great advantage,” she said, “of being thought silly, is that people forget and begin to think one might also be foolish. I may, Professor Lyall, be a trifle enthusiastic in my manner and dress, but I am no fool.”

“No, Mrs. Tunstell, I can see that.” And Lady Maccon, thought Lyall, would not be so friendly with you if you were.

“I believe Miss Dair was overset, or she would not have been so indiscreet in public.”

“Ah, and what is your excuse?”

Ivy laughed. “I am well aware, Professor, that my dearest Alexia does not tell me much about certain aspects of her life. Her friendship with Lord Akeldama, for example, has always remained a mystery to me. I mean really, he is too outrageous. But her judgment is sound. I should have told her what I heard, were she still in town. As it stands, I judge you will make an adequate substitute. You stand very high in my husband’s regard. Besides which, I simply do not believe it is right. Potent gentlemen should not go around stealing things from Lord Akeldama.”

Professor Lyall knew perfectly well the identity of Ivy’s “potent gentleman.” It meant that this was rapidly becoming an ever more serious and ever more vampire-riddled conundrum. The potentate was the premier rove in all of England, Queen Victoria’s chief strategist and her most treasured supernatural advisor. He sat on the Shadow Council with the dewan, werewolf loner and commander in chief of the Royal Lupine Guard. Until recently, Alexia had been their third. The potentate was one of the oldest vampires on the island. And he had stolen something from Lord Akeldama. Professor Lyall would wager good money on the fact that it was in pursuit of that very object that had caused Lord Akeldama, and all of his drones, to leave London.

What a fine kettle of fangs this is becoming, he thought.

Mostly unaware of the exploding steam engine she had just landed her guest in, Ivy Tunstell bobbed her curls at Professor Lyall and offered him another cup of tea. Lyall decided that his best possible course of action was to head home to Woolsey Castle and go to sleep. Often vampires were better understood after a good day’s rest.

Consequently, he declined the tea.

CHAPTER EIGHT Trial by Snuff, Kumquat, and Exorcism

Alexia’s legs were stiff from the cold, but at least they were decently covered by her skirts once more, even if those skirts were now coated in mud as well as burned by acid. She sighed. She must look