Sidheag’s masculine face lit up with a grin.
Teatime conversation flowed smoothly among the members of their little band. Over a year and a half’s association and Sophronia would have described the other three as confidantes extraordinaire. The best part being that she knew they felt the same way about her. Each had her own set of abilities. Sidheag had stoic strength. Dimity a guileless craftiness. Agatha… well, perhaps Agatha was a bit of a wet blanket. She was loyal to a fault and she did try. She tried too hard sometimes.
As if to illustrate this, the chubby redhead looked suddenly panicked and began to pat her person and rifle through her reticule. “What class do we have after tea?” she asked, voice wobbling.
Dimity looked up from applying strawberry jam to her pikelet. “Captain Niall. It’s Thursday, we always have him on Thursdays, unless the moon is full. Really, Agatha dear, how could you forget? It’s Captain Niall!”
Agatha was relieved. “Oh, that’s all right. Unless… we weren’t meant to bring anything, were we? Scissors, or paperweights, or wheat paste, or…?”
“No,” Sidheag answered. She was always prepared for Captain Niall’s classes. They were her favorite, and not only because he was a proper bit of sweetmeat. Sidheag liked weapons training. She was Scottish, after all. “We’re moving on from deadly library supplies to something else this evening. He didn’t say what.” She tugged on her earlobe, uncomfortable. Sophronia wasn’t certain if that was because she didn’t know what was going on or because of Captain Niall. Sophronia suspected Sidheag of harboring a good deal of romantic interest in their werewolf professor. Of course, half the young ladies of Mademoiselle Geraldine’s tendered feelings in his direction. Captain Niall was quite dashing. Sidheag, either because she was embarrassed to acknowledge any emotion or because she was disgusted with herself for belonging to a popular movement, had yet to confess said interest.
Sophronia, as a result, rather enjoyed teasing her on the subject. “Didn’t say? Not even to you? But I thought you two were so close.”
Sidheag walked right into her trap. “Not that close! He doesn’t share lesson plans with me.”
“Well, then, does he share something else?”
Dimity was feeling equally mischievous. “Dead rabbits, perhaps? Laying his kill at your feet.”
“What?” Sidheag was genuinely confused.
Dimity was not to be turned aside. “As if we didn’t see you nuzzling up to the lovely captain regularly.”
Sidheag objected to this unwarranted accusation. “Nuzzling! He’s ten times my age!”
Dimity waved an airy hand. “Immortals usually are, and he certainly still cuts a fine figure.”
Sophronia nudged Sidheag’s shoulder. “And you know werewolves. I mean to say, you know them.” They so rarely got to rib Sidheag.
The Scottish girl actually blushed.
Mindful of her chamber-mate’s finer feelings, Agatha returned them to the subject of preparing for class. “Well, thank goodness it’s him. I was sure we had Lady Linette, and I’ve misplaced my chewing tobacco for card rooms and informant recruiting.”
“Again? Really, Agatha.” Sidheag was unsympathetic.
“To be fair, yesterday it was the lip tint. If you only kept your side of the room cleaner.”
“You can’t blame me for your absentmindedness.”
“Yes, I can.” Agatha only really had any gumption with Sidheag. Which was funny, because Sidheag was so gruff and Agatha so timid. But after months of their living together, Agatha had learned to stick up for herself. Sidheag was a big softy underneath her grumbling. It came, they all suspected, from being raised by werewolves. As Dimity said, “Sidheag surely does grumpy old man very well for a sixteen-year-old girl.”
“Are you four going to sit there gossiping all night?” Preshea was standing above them, looking down her nose. A rare opportunity for the girl, as she was quite short.
The dining room was empty. Somehow, they had missed the mass exodus. The maid mechanicals were beginning to clear the tea tables.
“Oh, I see, you’re waiting to gather up the extra pikelets, so Agatha can have a snack later.” Preshea had a very clipped way of talking, as though each word were murdered just after being spoken.
At the dig over her portly frame, Agatha teared up.
Dimity gasped and put her hand to her lips.
Sophronia was so perturbed by the direct nature of the attack that she lacked a ready rebuttal.
Sidheag, on the other hand, simply threw her mostly uneaten pikelet at Preshea.
“Lady Kingair,” said Preshea, shocked, “this is a new gown!”
“Well, you shouldn’t go around being nasty when the rest of us are armed with nibbly bits, should you?” Sidheag was unperturbed by the smear of jam that now decorated Preshea’s décolletage.
Preshea flounced off, still in possession of verbal superiority. After all, they ought to have responded with wit, not flying pancakes. But Agatha looked cheered by Sidheag’s pikelet defense.
Dimity sniffed. “That girl is like walking, talking indigestion. Sophronia, can’t we do something about her?”
Sophronia frowned. “I don’t know if it’s worth the risk. They’ve been watching me closely since the Westminster Hive incident.”
“Please?” Dimity gave her big hazel-eyed look of appeal.
“I’ll think about it. Now come on; we’re late, and the staircase won’t wait.”
They abandoned the last of the pikelets uneaten and trooped down after the rest of the students toward the midship deck. Before they could catch the other young ladies, however, they were waylaid.
“Lady Kingair, a moment of your time, please?”
Professor Lefoux was the most fearsome teacher at the school. Her subjects included deadly gadgetry, high-impact weaponry, and infiltrating academia. Even Sophronia was equal parts terrified and impressed by her visage, attitude, and abilities. However, she was not the type of teacher to accost one in the hallways, nor intercept a student when she was already late for class.
Sidheag, controlling her surprise, faced the austere lady. They were almost of a height. Professor Lefoux was the only person at the school next to whom Sidheag’s governess-like attire seemed soft and approachable.
The professor, Sophronia always felt, looked as if she had been sticking her head out the side of a very fast carriage. All her hair was pulled back from her unlined face, making her seem stretched.