Waistcoats & Weaponry

That's a very murky position," objected Felix. "So's the weather. But this is England, we must learn to live with uncertainty.

I simply feel that world domination is not my cup of tea. Is that shortsighted?

Oh, Sophronia, thank goodness. Save me? Please? All those young girls, in pastels, talking about the weather. I shall go jump off a bridge, I swear I shall. Do you have bridges in Wiltshire? They chatter, they chatter worse than Dimity ever did. Oh, the chattering! The chattering, it haunts me.

If anyone saw Monique, a well-dressed woman of quality, dangling from the doorway, they apparently assumed everyone had difficulties in life and moved on.

The tea, once it arrived, had its customary effect—engendering comfort and loosening the tongue. That’s tea for you, thought Sophronia, the great social lubricant.

What she said was “I want a man who stays out of my way.

As Dimity said, “Sidheag surely does grumpy old man very well for a sixteen-year-old girl.

Sophronia and Dimity took a vacant love seat at the front, Sophronia dislodging a large, fluffy cat with a scrunched-up face. The cat gave her a disgusted look. Or seemed to; it was hard to tell with that face.

Felix looked as if he had been given some kind of caped weasel—part gift, part insult, part utter confusion. “Thank you, I think.

Espionage, Sophronia had learned, was tough on petticoats.

Saw your nicely strung-up slab of bacon.” “Don’t insult bacon,” said Sidheag.

It was their vampire teacher’s custom of late to administer decidedly oddball lessons. Which is to say, more oddball than an ordinary lesson with a vampire in a floating dirigible espionage school.

The tea, once it arrived, had its customary effect—engendering comfort and loosening the tongue. That’s tea for you, thought Sophronia, the great social lubricant

Things were always funnier when one was lying down.

Felix ran his hands through his dark hair, sounding like a resigned maiden aunt. 'It'll all end in tears and coal dust, you see if it doesn't.

Funambulist.' said Sophronia Temminnick, quite suddenly. 'Sophronia, such language!' Dimity Plumleigh-Teignmott reprimanded. 'Pardon?' said Agatha Woosmoss. Sidheag Maccon, the final member of Sophronia's group, muttered, 'Bless you.' 'I wasn't sneezing, nor being indelicate, thank you all very much. I was thinking out loud.' 'As if thinking out loud weren't *decidedly* indelicate.' Dimity was not to be swayed out of disapproval when she felt it might exercise her creativity.

It’ll all end in tears and coal dust, you see if it doesn’t.

Lady Linette has been teaching us seduction techniques.” She lowered her eyes and then looked off across the gray moor, presenting him with her profile, which was rather a nice one, or so Mademoiselle Geraldine told her. That statement successfully shocked Felix. He swallowed a few times before saying, his voice almost as high as it had been a year ago, “Really?

Then we are on the side of curiosity and evenhandedness. Once we know what's really going on, then we choose.' 'That's a very murky position,' objected Felix. 'So's the weather. But this is England, we must learn to live with uncertainty.

You think loyalty can be bought?” “Don’t you?

Agatha, who was spending time in their room as her own was lonely, perked up. "I preferred the garrote myself." The others looked at her, startled. Aside from the theater, and sleeping, Agatha rarely expressed an interest in anything. Let alone something espionage related. "You do?" Dimity encouraged. Agatha nodded. "You can wear it as jewelry, it hides away easily, and it's a nice clean death.

Whoa there, miss, that’s enough of that!” “Oh dear me, are you hurt? Have I hurt you more?” “I think most of me’s fine, miss. Just, please, leave off the touching.” “I do apologize. I was only checking.” “Whoa, now. Not that I didn’t like it, miss. You can check me much as you like, only later.

I’m Scottish,” as if that would explain everything. The duke nodded, as if it did. “Yes, well, we can’t all be from the right side of the country. Would

in the end you’ll have to cede to Lord Mersey. He’s too much of a peer, you understand? And a bit of a prick as well.

No wife ever cleared a man’s character, not without a great deal of trouble on the lower decks. So

Apparently, gentlemen not only liked to kiss and touch women everywhere, they did that and more, on a regular basis, and mostly not with ladies at all, but with women of less genteel breeding. Some gentlemen, her brothers had whispered, even did it with each other. Although this was considered quite uncouth, Sophronia gathered, once one left Eton.

Lady Linette stopped the looks and returned to instruction. “What were we discussing?” “Um, touching,” said Preshea, in an unusually meek tone. “Oh, yes. He may also wish to kiss there.” “What, the décolletage?” Dimity squeaked. “Quite often.” Sophronia, thinking of her brothers’ lewd talk, asked, “And elsewhere?” Lady Linette smiled. “Well, yes, the very best ones like to kiss all over.

With werewolves gone and fire stoked, Sidheav stopped shaking. The tea, once it arrived, had its customary effect--engendering comfort and loosening the tongue. *That's tea for you*, thought Sophronia, *the great social lubricant.* Soon they had the whole story out of her. No wonder tea was considered a vital weapon of espionage.