The dewan gave her a significant look before they parted ways. He probably expected a full report from her. I don’t work for you yet. She glared at him.
They set off in Petunia’s luxurious coach and arrived back at the Hisselpennys’ town house feeling a little shattered. They were much earlier back than they had planned.
“Sister, may Agatha stay awhile longer? The night is still so young. For cards or something equally pedestrian? To calm us down?” Sophronia batted her eyes a little.
“Ah, I remember when I was young like you. Such energy.” Sophronia hid a smile. Petunia was only eighteen. “Your father won’t miss you, Miss Woosmoss?” Petunia made a token protest.
Agatha shook her head, red curls bouncing.
A small whirring heralded Petunia’s mechanical butler proffering a red lacquered tray.
“Cards came while we were out?” Petunia tossed them over. Two invitations and a sweep-cleaning service. “Well, the invitations are not what they might be, but better than none, I suppose. And perhaps the chimneys do need cleaning.”
The buttlinger buttled off.
“May I see them?” asked Sophronia politely.
Petunia arched a brow but passed over the tray. Sophronia pocketed the card for the chimney sweep, distracting her sister with, “How delightful that Agatha can stay! Shall we play loo? It’s so very fortifying?”
Petunia pressed her temple with one hand. “I myself must rest. We shan’t tell Mr. Hisselpenny of this evening’s events, shall we, ladies? I’m afraid he is rather protective.”
“Do not worry yourself on that account, sister. We shall be most discreet.” She’s forgotten about the newspaperman. He, no doubt, will print a full report. Or perhaps Mr. Hisselpenny doesn’t read the Mooring Standard. “We will calm ourselves with loo and lemonade.”
“Very good, ladies. Have the coach take Miss Woosmoss home when you’re done. I’ll bid you good night. And tomorrow…” Petunia brightened notably at a thought. “Tomorrow we shall go hat shopping.” She left without further discussion.
The three girls curled up by a fire in the parlor, cards out, of course, in case someone came to check on them, but they played by rote. Sophronia told them of her conversation with Madame Spetuna, and they spent some time debating where her loyalties might lie and why she might be unable to transfer information any other way than via Lord Akeldama.
“Although we must admit it worked.” Dimity was always one to give credit when due.
“The teachers won’t believe us. It’s such a crazy idea, war mechanicals. Too extreme.”
“They won’t want to believe us. Too scary.” Agatha showed unexpected insight.
A pause while they all looked morose.
Sophronia added, “She said something about her records—maybe there is a code word there that commands trust?”
“What else did we learn?” Dimity moved them on to other speculations, as she didn’t want to talk about the record room. It brought back bad—well, sticky—memories.
Agatha reported her observations. “The dewan used the explosion to push his agenda. He has something on the queen’s desk called the Clandestine Information Act. It’s designed to seize technological power for the Crown in the guise of patent control. I think he wants to persuade Lord Akeldama to this cause.”
“Speaking of which, did any of you learn anything more about that suspicious butler?” Sophronia asked.
“Administering a damp handkerchief will only get a young lady so far.” Agatha made a face.
“Me neither. But I think he had a vested interest in the politics of the situation.” Dimity wound a hair ribbon around and through her fingertips.
“Why?”
“He moved toward the dewan anytime he mentioned controlling technology.”
“Patent holder, perhaps?” Agatha had a brain under those red curls.
“A patent holder carrying at least two small guns, one up each sleeve?” Sophronia was suspicious.
“And a knife down his boot top.” Dimity flicked the hair ribbon.
“Careful with that—you’ll have an eye out.” Sophronia put up a hand defensively.
Agatha remained focused on the butler. “I noticed that, too. Assassin in the employment of a patent holder?”
“Speaking of butlers.” Sophronia drew out the calling card for the chimney sweep service. “If you will excuse me a moment? I believe there is someone waiting to speak with me outside.”
Agatha and Dimity squinted suspiciously, but let her go with only an exchange of teasing smooching noises.
After creeping around a well-guarded floating school, the Hisselpennys’ town house was ridiculously easy to escape, just as Soap had told her it should be.
Soap was waiting for her in the back alley by the kitchen delivery entrance.
Sophronia vibrated with awareness of him, but was careful not to show it. “Good evening.”