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Prudence (The Custard Protocol #1) Page 65
Author: Gail Carriger

Nevertheless, in case she was wrong, Rue approached Spoo and the lioness with caution. “Glad you were able to escape your captors. Welcome aboard The Spotted Custard. Spoo, you had us worried.”

Spoo, sitting with immense pride astride the cat, slid off and moved away only to be instantly surrounded by decklings, the returning hero. They hustled her off in a nattering group, like a gaggle of excited geese.

The lioness looked up at Rue as if waiting for something.

Rue said, “I’d be delighted to offer you use of my quarters and a dressing robe. It is Miss Sekhmet, is it not?”

The cat tilted her head, whiskers twitching.

“The robe will be short on you, I am afraid. I am assuming, as our first meeting took place in the Maltese Tower, that you are not afflicted, like werewolves, with an inability to float? But I get ahead of myself. We have much to discuss that I am afraid requires you to be in human form.”

The werecat nodded her sleek head. Rue wondered if in this she was the same as werewolves. It was a mark of age and skill to possess all of one’s facilities while in animal shape. Oh, she had so many questions!

Quesnel and Percy, having stood at the arrival of their visitor, abandoned their tea to approach.

“Rue,” said Percy. “Are you talking to a lioness? Is that wise? Aren’t they hazardous to the health?”

Without batting an eye Quesnel said, “Of course – Miss Sekhmet, is it? That’s why you shrouded yourself in fabric under the direct sunlight this morning.”

“No wonder she looked so exhausted,” added Rue, trying to carry everything off with aplomb when inside she was now trembling with excitement: A werecat. I found a werecat! Well, she found me, but still!

“And too weak to fight off her kidnappers,” added Quesnel. “Or should I say, catnappers?”

The lioness looked displeased at that statement. She flattened her ears at Quesnel.

“Spoo, would you show our guest to my chambers?”

“My pleasure, Lady Captain. Right this way, miss.” Spoo trotted off, the lioness trailing behind.

They disappeared.

Percy said, “Is she staying? Footnote is not going to be happy.” And then, after a moment, “Where has my sister gone?”

Primrose, as it turned out, had fainted.

The decklings collected around her in a chattering worried mass.

Rue applied smelling salts and Prim revived relatively quickly. Her big dark eyes were smudged with concern. She sat up.

“I’m feeling better. I do apologise. Terribly silly of me.”

“It’s the heat,” said Rue, giving Prim an out and offering her a hand up.

“Just so I am clear, do we now have a werelioness on board?” Primrose rose slowly.

“Yes,” said Quesnel, helping her solicitously to sit back in a deck-chair.

“And did she take us shopping this morning?”

“Yes, she did,” confirmed Rue.

Percy, following at long last, said, “Werelioness? Of course. It fits perfectly. Do you think that’s what the Vanaras are? Hardly makes sense. That’s not how they are described in the text. Not cat-like at all. Do you think she’ll let me write a report for the Royal Society?”

Quesnel gave him a disgusted look. “Can’t you think about anything but your academic standing? This is a revelation of epic proportions! We now have proof that there are other shape-shifting creatures besides werewolves.”

“Exactly! The scientific community should know. I’m being altruistic. Selfish would be to keep this information secret.”

The two men stood – forgetting Primrose’s delicate state – the better to argue.

Quesnel said, “Our caller has obviously gone to great lengths to keep her condition out of the public arena. You should respect her wishes!”

“Oh, should I indeed? And your concern wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that she is an incredibly lovely female specimen? Would it?”

Rue decided to ignore them in favour of her friend. “Do you think you could manage a little restorative tea, Prim?”

Primrose said, “I think so. Thank you. I haven’t forgiven you though, Rue. You knew she was coming and did not warn me? And here I am not in a receiving gown.”

“Is that why you fainted?”

Prim ignored this dig to continue her lament. “What will she think of me?”

Rue rolled her eyes. “For your information, I didn’t know she was coming. And even if I had made the connection, I thought she was kidnapped. I’m trying to act debonair. I’m surprised to have fooled you. I didn’t put it all together until she leapt on board.” She let the wide grin she’d been suppressing sweep across her face. “Isn’t this the cat’s whiskers? Werelioness. Did you ever imagine? Do you think she’ll let me steal her soul for a bit? I would so love to be a cat.”

Prim raised a hand. “Rue, stop, too much excitement. It’s worse than you being all suave. Calm down. How did she get here, then?”

Rue shrugged. “I sent for the werewolves but I suppose they’ve gone hunting. She must have found Spoo, or Spoo her. And stop worrying. She will think very well of you – everyone does. You look lovely. You always do.”

Rue helped Prim to butter a muffin. Prim’s hands were still shaking, and Rue knew exactly how she liked her muffin buttered. She then foisted another cup of tea on Primrose. Though a touch cold, Prim drank it gratefully as she nibbled her well-buttered muffin.

Once revived, Prim gave Rue a suspicious look. “You’re being awfully nice. What are you plotting?”

“Nothing as yet.”

Prim was not convinced. “You’re wearing a tea-gown and no gloves” She stated the obvious. “And you sent for werewolves. Haven’t you had enough soul-stealing for one evening?”

Spoo returned, Miss Sekhmet following. The werelioness wore a robe of quilted velvet, opulent and flattering, if a little small. With her hair loose and flowing, free of all accessories, she was more beautiful than ever.

Rue decided, magnanimously, to forgive her for it. However, it did appear to rather drive all her companions, even Primrose, into a tongue-tied state.

“Please excuse the casual dress, ladies, gentlemen. I was going to follow the werewolves on their hunt and then I ran into your messenger and she had this.” Miss Sekhmet tossed Rue the monkey charm. “They have made contact with you directly in my absence?”

Rue took the necklace and, because she thought it might be the safest thing to do, put it on, grateful that she had rejected the massive hat that fashion dictated be pinned atop her head at all times. She gestured for the werecat to sit. Which she did, quite gracefully.

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Gail Carriger's Novels
» Heartless (Parasol Protectorate #4)
» Waistcoats & Weaponry (Finishing School #3)
» Prudence (The Custard Protocol #1)
» Timeless (Parasol Protectorate #5)
» Etiquette & Espionage (Finishing School #1)
» Curtsies & Conspiracies (Finishing School #2)
» Soulless (Parasol Protectorate #1)
» Changeless (Parasol Protectorate #2)
» Blameless (Parasol Protectorate #3)