Timeless

you know I should be utterly lost without you.”

“Thank you very much, my lady.” Biffy finished cleaning the curling tongs and placed them into a drawer, standing back to take a critical look at his masterwork.

“That will do, my lady. Now, what would you like to wear this evening?”

“Oh, something sensible I think, Biffy. I won’t be doing anything more exciting than packing.”

Biffy went to look at her row of dresses. “How are preparations coming along for the trip?” He selected a day gown of cream striped in red with a cuirasse bodice of black velvet and a matched black underskirt. He paired this with a forward-tilting wide-brimmed hat with masculine overtones counteracted by a great array of feathers. Alexia thought the hat a little much but bowed to Biffy’s judgment and allowed herself to be trussed up.

“Admirably, I believe. All of us should be prepared to leave the day after tomorrow. I am rather looking forward to it.”

“I do hope you enjoy yourself.”

“Thank you, Biffy. There was one more thing. I was wondering if I might prevail upon you. That is…” Lady Maccon paused, as though embarrassed or unable to find the words.

Biffy immediately left off fastening all the copious small buttons at the back of her gown and circled around to stand next to her, meeting her eyes via the looking glass. “My lady, you know you have only to ask.”

“Oh, yes, of course. But this is a matter of some delicacy. I want it to be your own choice. Not one driven by pack or status.”

She turned so they could look at each other face-to-face and took one of his hands in hers. He felt the effect of her touch instantly, an awareness of mortality, a dimming of his supernatural senses. It was a little like dropping out of the aether into the lower atmosphere, a sinking sensation in the stomach. He had learned to ignore the feeling. What with dressing and arranging Lady Maccon’s hair, he experienced it frequently.

“I have a little private consortium. I was wondering if, perhaps, you might be persuaded to join.”

Biffy was fascinated. “What kind of consortium?”

“A sort of secret society. I will, of course, require a vow of silence.”

“Naturally. What do you call yourselves?”

“The Parasol Protectorate.”

Biffy smiled. “I am enthralled by the concept of a society named after an accessory. Do go on, my lady.”

“I am afraid you would be only our third member. Currently, the society consists of myself and Ivy Tunstell.”

“Mrs. Tunstell?”

“She was rather invaluable in a matter of some considerable delicacy just before Prudence was born.”

“What is the purpose of this society?”

“I suppose the root of the Protectorate is to seek truth and protect the innocent. In as polite and well accessorized a way as possible, of course.”

“That seems quite glamorous enough to me.” Biffy was rather taken with the idea of being in a club with the estimable Lady Maccon. It sounded most diverting. “Do I make a pledge?”

“Oh, dear. I did invent one for Ivy, but it is a tad ridiculous.”

“Splendid.”

Lady Maccon giggled. “Very well. Fetch me one of those parasols, please. I’m afraid the original pledge required my special parasol, but one of those will do as a replacement.”

“Your special parasol, my lady?”

“Oh, just you wait. I’ll have something made for you. Perhaps a particular top hat?”

“Particular?”

“Lots of hidden gadgets, concealed compartments, covert weaponry, and the like.”

“What a horrid thing to do to a perfectly nice top hat!”

“Cane, then?”

Biffy tilted his head in consideration. Then he remembered Lord Akeldama’s gold pipe that was actually a glaive. “Perhaps a cane. Now, about that pledge?” He was not about to allow Lady Maccon to deny him ready amusement.

His mistress sighed. “If you insist, Biffy. Spin the parasol three times and repeat after me: I shield in the name of fashion. I accessorize for one and all. Pursuit of truth is my passion. This I vow by the great parasol.”

Biffy couldn’t help it; he started to laugh, but he did as he was bid.

“Do try to keep a straight face,” said his mistress, although she said it around her own grin. “Now pick the parasol up and raise it open to the ceiling.”

Biffy did as instructed.

“Ivy insisted we seal the vow in blood, but I hardly think that necessary, do you?”

Biffy raised his eyebrows. It was fun watching Lady Maccon squirm.

“Oh, I had no idea you would be so difficult. Very well.” She retrieved a small knife from her armoire. It was not silver, so in order to make the cut, she had to hold on to Biffy’s wrist with her bare hand, keeping him mortal.

“May the blood of the soulless keep your own soul safe,” she intoned, cutting a tiny slice in the pad of her thumb and then in his and pressing the two together.

Biffy had a moment of panic. What might her preternatural blood do to his werewolf blood? But the second she let go, his cut healed instantly, leaving no remnant mark behind.

“Now, Mrs. Tunstell goes by the sobriquet Puff Bonnet.”

Biffy let out an uncontrolled bark of laughter.

“Yes, yes. Well, I go by Ruffled Parasol. What would you like your moniker to be?”

“I suppose it ought to be another accessory of some kind?”

Lady Maccon nodded.

“How about Wingtip Spectator?”

“Perfect. I will inform Ivy of your indoctrination.”

“And now, my lady, I assume there is a reason for your recruiting me at this particular time?”

Lady Maccon looked at him. “You see, Biffy? That’s what I mean. You are an adorably smart thing, aren’t you?”

Biffy raised an eyebrow.

“I require someone to monitor London while Ivy and I are abroad. Keep me informed as to the nature of the murder investigation. Keep an eye on Channing’s behavior—and Lyall’s for that matter. And the vampires, of course.”

“Tall order, my lady. Professor Lyall?”

“Everyone has secrets Biffy, even Lyall.”

“Especially Professor Lyall, my lady. I’d say he is keeping a goodly number of everyone else’s secrets as well as his own.”

“You see, what did I say? Perceptive. Now, there will be irregular dirigible mail during our steamer crossing. I’ll provide you with a schedule of the ones you’ll need to utilize, depending on where we are. After that, I intend to set up an aethographic connection to the public access transmitter in Alexandria. I have the valve frequensor codes here, and I will give them mine. Thereafter, you will have to send all messages in code. I’ll send you the first one just after sunset the day after we arrive—London sunset. Please coordinate the timing and be ready to receive. Lord Akeldama trained you in the use of an aethographic transmitter?”

“Of course.” Biffy had known the workings of every single transmitter since the technology first came to London those many years ago. “This is going to be delightful fun, isn’t it, my lady?”

At that, Lady Maccon put an arm about his waist and leaned her head on his shoulder. “That’s the spirit!”

“Oh, dear heavens, Ivy, must you bring so many hats?”

They had let the entire first-class coach for the short haul from London to Southampton, where their steamer awaited the tides. Lady Maccon stood next to her husband on the platform waiting to board.

Mrs. Tunstell was wearing a traveling gown of pale pink and apple-green stripes, trimmed with multiple blue trailing ribbons. Her hat was a great tower of feather puffs, pink and green, through which peeked the heads of