Heartless

Lady Maccon took the plunge. “As a matter of fact, there have been rumors of late with regards to a threat upon a certain peer of the realm. I cannot say more, but if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Well, I did hear Lord Blingchester’s carriage was to be decommissioned.”

“No, Ivy, not that kind of threat.”

“And the Duchess of Snodgrove’s chambermaid was so incensed recently that she indicated she might actually not affix her hat properly for the midsummer ball.”

“No, not quite that either. But this is all intriguing information. I should appreciate your continued conversation and company even after your evolved circumstances.”

Ivy closed her eyes and took a small breath. “Oh, Alexia, how kind of you. I did fear . . .” She flipped open a fan and fluttered it in an excess of sentimental feeling. “I did fear that once Tunny and I launched this endeavor, you would be unwilling to continue the association. After all, I intend to perhaps take on some small roles myself. Tunny thinks I may have dramatic talent. Being seen to take tea with the wife of an actor is one thing, but taking tea with the actress herself is quite another.”

Lady Maccon shifted forward as much as possible and stretched out a hand to rest softly atop Mrs. Tunstell’s. “Ivy, I would never even consider it. Let us say no more on the subject.”

Ivy seemed to feel the time had come to move on to yet another pertinent bit of news. “I did have one other thing to relate to you, my dear Alexia. As you may have surmised, I have had to give over my position as assistant to Madame Lefoux. Of course, I shall miss the society of all those lovely hats, but I was there just the other evening when a very peculiar event occurred. Given your husband’s state, I immediately thought of you.”

“How very perspicacious.” Much to her own amazement, Lady Maccon had found that Mrs. Tunstell, a lady of little society and less apparent sense, often had the most surprising things to relate. Knowing well that the best encouragement was to say nothing, Alexia drank her tea and gave Ivy a dark-eyed look of interest.

“Well, you should never believe it, but I ran into a scepter in the street.”

“A scepter . . . what, like the queen’s?”

“Oh, no, you know what I mean. A ghost. Me, can you imagine? Right through it I went, all la-di-da. I could hardly countenance it. I was completely unnerved. After I had recovered my capacities, I realized the poor thing was a tad absent of good sense. Subsequent to much inane burbling, she did manage to articulate some information. She seemed peculiarly attracted to my parasol, which I was carrying at night only because my business with Madame Lefoux had taken longer than expected. Otherwise, you understand, I have always found your habit of toting daytime accessories at all hours highly esoteric. Never mind that. This ghost seemed peculiarly interested in my parasol. Kept asking about it. Wanted to know if it did anything, apart from shield me from the sun, of course. I informed her flat out that the only person I knew who boasted a parasol that extruded things was my dear friend Lady Maccon. You remember I saw yours emit when we were traveling in the north? Well, I told this to the ghost in no unceremonious terms, at which point she got most stimulated and asked as to your current whereabouts. Well, since she was a ghost and, as such, tethered within a shortened area of the location, I saw no reason not to relay your new address to her. It was all very odd. And she kept repeating the most peculiar turn of phrase, regarding a cephalopod.”

“Oh, indeed? What exactly did she say, Ivy?”

“ ‘The octopus is inequitable,’ or some such drivel.” Ivy looked as though she might continue her discussion, except at that moment she caught sight of Felicity through the open parlor door.

“Alexia, your sister appears to be most unbalanced. I am quite convinced I just observed her wearing a lemon-yellow knit shawl. With a fringe. Going out into public. I cannot countenance it.”

Lady Maccon closed her eyes and shook her head. “Never mind that now, Ivy.”

“Convinced, I tell you. How remarkable.”

“Anything more about the ghost, Ivy?”

“I think it might have had something to do with the OBO.”

This comment brought Alexia up short. “What did you just say?”

“The Order of the Brass Octopus—you must have heard of it.”

Lady Maccon blinked in shock and put her hand to her stomach where the infant-inconvenience kicked out in surprise as well. “Of course I have heard of it, Ivy. The question is, how have you?”

“Oh, Alexia, I have been working for Madame Lefoux for positively ages. She has been traveling overmuch of late, and her appearance can be very distracting, but I am not so unobservant as all that. I am well aware that when she is in town, she undertakes fewer hat-orientated activities than hat-focused ones. She runs an underground contrivance chamber as I understand it.”

“She told you?”

“Not exactly. If Madame Lefoux prefers to keep things a secret, who am I to gainsay her? But I did look inside some of those hatboxes of hers, and they do not always contain hats. I did inquire as to the specifics, and Madame Lefoux assured me it was better if I not become involved. However, Alexia, I wouldn’t want you to think me ignorant. Tunny and I do talk about such things, and I have eyes enough in my head to observe, even if I do not always understand.”

“I apologize for doubting you, Ivy.”

Ivy looked wistful. “Perhaps one day you, too, will take me into your confidence.”

“Oh, Ivy, I—”

Ivy held up a hand. “When you are quite ready, of course.”

Alexia sighed. “Speaking of which, you must excuse me. This news about the ghost, it is of no little importance. I must consult my husband’s Beta immediately.”

Ivy looked about. “But it is daylight.”

“Sometimes even werewolves are awake during the day. When the situation demands it. Conall is asleep, so Professor Lyall is probably awake and at his duties.”

“Is a cephalopod so dire as all that?”

“I am afraid it might be. If you would excuse me, Ivy?”

“Of course.”

“I shall inform Floote about the little matter of my patronage. He will set you up right and proper with the necessary pecuniary advance.”

Ivy grabbed at Lady Maccon’s hand as she passed. “Oh, thank you, Alexia.”

Alexia was as good as her word, going immediately to Floote and issuing him with instructions. Then, in the interest of economy and perhaps saving herself a trip to BUR, she casually asked, “Is there a local OBO chapter in this area? I understand it is quite the secret society but thought perhaps you might know.”

Floote gave her a meditative look. “Yes, madam, a block over. I noticed the marking just after you began visiting with Lord Akeldama.”

“Marking, Floote?”

“Yes, madam. There is a brass octopus on the door handle. Number eighty-eight.”

CHAPTER FIVE The Lair of the Octopus

Number 88 was not a very impressive domicile. In fact, it was one of the least elegant in the neighborhood. While its immediate neighbors were nothing when compared to Lord Akeldama’s abode, they still put their very best brick forward. They acknowledged, in an entirely unspoken way, that they were denizens of the most fashionable residential area in London and that architecture and grounds should earn this accolade. Number eighty-eight was altogether shabby by comparison. Its paint was not exactly peeling, but it was faded, and its garden was overgrown with herbs gone to seed and lettuces that had bolted.

Scientists, thought Alexia as she made her way up the front steps and pulled the bell rope. She wore her worst dress, altered to compensate for her stomach and made of a worsted fabric somewhere between dishwater brown and green. She couldn’t remember why she’d originally purchased the poor sad thing—probably to upset her mother. She had even borrowed one of Felicity’s ugly shawls, despite the fact that the day was too warm for such a conceit. With the addition of a full white mob cap and a very humble expression,