Vieve was dubious. “As a party of four?”
“Oh, you may take Dimity with you;. Lord Mersey and I will go the normal route. I’d like to see his technique.”
Felix looked uncomfortable but schooled his expression to one of bland superiority and marched off to the hatch. Clearly, he was not as relaxed about climbing as he pretended.
Sophronia held back. “Don’t you worry, Soap. I’ll give him what for!”
Soap looked pleased. “You will? Oh, good. But, erm, what for?”
“Disrespecting you, of course. Ignoramus.”
Soap’s face fell. “Oh, now, miss. Please don’t. I don’t need you to defend me.”
“But, your honor is at stake!”
“Honor’s for toffs. In that, at least, he’s right. I’m nothing but a lowly sootie.”
“But—”
“You wanna give him a lecture for some other reason, please do.”
Sophronia was disconcerted. What else had Felix done?
“Looking at you as if he wanted to spread you on toast and nibble!” Soap’s voice vibrated with disgust, or something more dangerous.
Sophronia didn’t know what to say to that, so she only nodded dumbly and scampered after Felix out the hatch.
Sophronia was none too thrilled to be stuck climbing. Vieve’s method of getting around was faster and less strenuous. But exercise was good for her, and part of her wanted to show off for Felix—not to mention show him up.
If Lord Mersey was impressed by the smooth way she shot her hurlie and swung from balcony to balcony, he gave no indication. After an abortedattempt to assist her, as any gentleman would a woman into a carriage, he found she was more efficient than he, even in skirts, and hung back in an attitude of “ladies first.”
Sophronia out-distanced him and, although she knew it was rude, decided to leave him eating petticoat fluff. If Felix had entertained any ideas of an assignation, they were quite thoroughly shredded.
“You’re flirting with that boy shamelessly,” accused Dimity, who was already undressed and abed when Sophronia entered their room.
“That’s a lie! I’m not entirely certain I even like Lord Mersey. He’s very involved in his own consequence.”
“And why shouldn’t he be? Son of a duke, long line of evil geniuses, even Picklemen in his pedigree. He is allowed to be arrogant. But I wasn’t speaking of him. You flirt with him with aplomb and finesse. Lady Linette would be chuffed. In fact, I think your approach far outstrips that of Monique or Preshea. Insulting him and pretending you aren’t interested; who’d have thought such a tactic might work?”
“Mademoiselle Geraldine,” said Sophronia promptly. “She has advised the approach on a number of occasions.” Sophronia puffed out her chest and assumed a mockery of their headmistress. “A lady of qualit-tay makes herself appear at all times unwilling and most of the time unavailable. Gentlemen adore the hunt.” Sophronia frowned, considering her current circumstances. “Honestly, Dimity, I wasn’t applying it intentionally, but I suppose Lord Mersey has had ladies after him most of his life. I must make for a nice change.”
Dimity got out of bed to undo the buttons down the back of Sophronia’s dress. “Regardless, it’s Mr. Soap to whom I was referring. You’ll break that poor boy’s heart. He’s leagues beneath you. Nothing can come of it.”
“I won’t!” Sophronia was stung. “I don’t think of him at all in that way.”
“You might be reduced to saying something quite blunt.”
Sophronia blushed at the very idea.
“Or at least stop canoodling with him.”
Sophronia was shocked by the accusation. “I’m not! There wasn’t one single canoodle!”
“You are most assuredly flirting. I’ve suspected it before, but now that I’ve visited the boiler room, I’m convinced: flirting.”