Manners & Mutiny

“Please don’t. When you think about things, Sophronia, they only get more complicated. This thing between us could be so very easy, if you let it.” He spread both his hands over her waist, daring to move them in a circular caress. Sophronia felt warmer than she ought where he touched her.

“If I choose you, Soap, I intend to honor the choice. We will have to determine, together, what that means.”

“I don’t want to hold you through loyalty, my heart.”

Sophronia cocked her head. “Yes, you do. Loyalty is the only moral compass I have. It’s our best foundation. And you have earned it.”

Soap’s face fell. “And what of love?”

Sophronia was uncomfortable with the intimacy of the question, but she also knew that this would be part of their future. One couldn’t live in shadows without some clarity. Soap would need to know her heart. Sophronia examined it closely. Am I strong enough to risk giving it to him?

“Yes, that, too. We always did belong to each other, didn’t we?” With which she finally took on the responsibility of allowing him to love her.

“Took you long enough to accept.” He’d heard the vow under her words.

It seemed almost ritually sacred to kiss at that juncture. It was also terrifying and overwhelming.

And because Soap understood her so well, he drew back, giving her time to realign her perspective on the way the world worked.

He changed the subject. “How did you get here?”

“Oh, you know, I happened to be in town. I hear the new muffs are in from France.”

Soap started to smile and then wouldn’t let himself. “Oh, but really, my heart, what did you do to yourself?” He whispered fingers near her eyes and nose, careful not to apply any pressure.

“It’s a very long story.”

“Two black eyes?”

“And a shoulder out of its socket. Not to mention various other assorted bumps and bruises. I did jump out of an airship, I’ll have you know.”

“And take on a whole mess of Picklemen and flywaymen, said Mademoiselle Geraldine.”

“Oh, good, she made it down safely? And Dimity and Agatha and the sooties?”

“All in far better condition than you, I’ll have you know. Even the appalling Felix Mersey. Not to mention the dratted Monique.” Soap’s lip curled on those names.

Sophronia sighed. “I’ll have to give her a different moniker. She did, kind of, save my life, in the end.”

“How awful for you.” He stroked her matted hair with one callused hand.

“I know!”

Soap became plaintive. “Do you think you might leave the world to right itself for a while now?”

“I don’t know if I can afford to. What’s happened since I fell from the sky?”

“I’ve not been paying the best of attention. I’ve been looking for you. We thought you died.”

Sophronia struggled to sit up on her own. “Dimity and Agatha think I’m dead?”

Soap nodded, nuzzling her neck on her good side. That did feel nice. It was the only part of her not injured.

But this was serious—her friends were in distress. “I can’t have that. Poor dears, we must go to them immediately.” She was also worried about the oncoming dawn. “And we should get you indoors.”

“Mmm. Quite apart from my werewolf condition, the city will be waking up soon. As it stands, we are both likely to be locked up for indecent exposure. The dewan is at the palace with the queen, has been since the mechanicals attacked. He’s no use to us.”

Sophronia was hesitant. “We could go to my sister’s, but I don’t think she could cope with my appearance. I’m certain she couldn’t cope with yours. I wouldn’t want to shock her into early childbirth.”

Soap agreed. “You know the nearest discreet location as well as I. Should we chance it?”

Sophronia was skeptical but willing. “At least I can be assured a bath and a nice change of clothes. We’d better go now, before sunrise. His drones won’t let us in without his approval.”

Soap stood, and Sophronia looked away quickly, as yet not entirely prepared. A girl can know too much about the man she loves, Dimity once said.

He bent and scooped her up.

“I can walk.”

“I must carry you to disguise my lack of clothing.”

“Oh, very well, although I suggest that when you pull the bell rope, you stop trying.”

Soap only strode off. Her weight was nothing to him, and he certainly moved a great deal faster than she could at that point.

The vampire himself answered the door, wearing a robe of royal-blue quilted silk with teal embroidered peacock feathers and gold lace trim, clearly near to taking his repose. Despite this, there was a hum of activity to the house behind him that suggested things were afoot.

“Kitten! Is that you? Horrid eye paint, my pet. You should fire your maid this instant. And here I was just about to retire. Yet I’m certain you are full of delicious stories and know everything there is to be known about everything. It’s too bad of you. Couldn’t you have come a little bit sooner, poppet?”

Sophronia gave a little smile. “Dear Lord Akeldama, I’m afraid I was all tied up. Or do I mean tying up? But please, may we seek refuge for the day? As you can see, I’m not quite the thing.”

Lord Akeldama’s eyes were hooded. “My dear girl, you aren’t in serious legal trouble, are you?” The hesitation referred to Soap. They had not been introduced, so the vampire could not address him directly. Lord Akeldama’s reluctance was to be expected. After all, it wasn’t normal, even in his long lifetime, to have a naked black man carrying a badly beaten girl turn up on one’s doorstep.

Sophronia presented her bribe. “If I told you that the dewan is my patron and Soap here is the reason, would you let me in to hear the story?”

Lord Akeldama threw the door wide. “Do come in—I insist!—and your fine young man. Oh, my, is he wearing anything at all? Sophronia, did you bring me a present?”

“No,” said Sophronia, cheerfully. “I brought you a werewolf, but he entirely belongs to me.”

The vampire pouted at her and didn’t look the least surprised. “Selfish girl. Lucky but selfish.” However, he also stepped back so they could enter. “Welcome—yes, you are adorable—welcome.”

Soap, who had just walked through London carrying her and wearing nothing, looked embarrassed for the first time that night under the vampire’s appreciative gaze.

Still, an invitation from a vampire was never to be treated lightly. Soap knew enough to say, “Thank you kindly, my lord.”

“My very great pleasure.” Lord Akeldama closed the door behind them. “Of course I knew the dewan had a new pup.”

Soap started at that.

“Don’t worry, my beauty. Your secret is safe in my household. But the fact that my little kitten here was involved, that I did not know.”

Sophronia was ready to fulfill her part of the bargain. “Few do. Soap was injured badly, shot by a Pickleman. I leveraged my indenture to convince the dewan to bite Soap outside of claviger status.”

Lord Akeldama evaluated Soap again, with something more than appreciation. “And he survived? Remarkable. And quite romantic. You two make for an unusual pairing.”