Prim continued, “Not that I could possibly understand the appeal but females are always flirting shamelessly with Percy. He’s quite the ladykiller, aren’t you, brother dear? I understand our dad was a bit of a dasher as well in his day.”
Percy looked at his sister. “Tiddles, I don’t know what you think you’re doing but it isn’t helping.”
“Not that he tries to be a ladykiller. Of course. He simply can’t stop himself.”
Percy grumbled at his book. “Oh no, it’s my dashing good looks.”
The funny thing was, of course, Primrose was perfectly correct. At any given ball, Percy inevitably found himself surrounded by young ladies angling for a dance. After suffering what amounted to two sisters, Percy was a marvellous dancer and all the society mothers knew it. They also knew that he had powerful relations without being a risky supernatural proposition himself. Untitled, yes, but rich was almost as good, and he ranked high with the sunset crowd by association. One could overlook his parents’ theatrical background and his own curious case of bluestocking fever in favour of such amenities as money, connections, and appearance. As for the young ladies, there was something about his academic snobbery that drew them in like butterflies to a flower – a gawky, uncomfortable flower. They even liked the aloofness. One could never expect to be flattered by Professor Tunstell. Exposure to Percy at a ball, Miss Prospigot had announced recently, hands clasped to her lips, “was positively soul quivering”.
Primrose continued, “He’s always getting himself accidentally engaged. That’s why he withdrew from polite society, isn’t it, Percy? Tired of breaking all those hearts.”
Quesnel sat back, watching the interchange with eyebrows arching so high they almost ate into his hairline. “Very noble of him.”
Rue felt compelled to add, “Sad to say, Mr Lefoux, but she’s perfectly correct. I can’t explain it either.”
“So you haven’t fallen victim to the professor’s unavoidable allure?”
Rue baulked. “I should say not. He’s practically family. Why, I find you far more appealing than old Percy here.”
Prim said, “Hear hear.”
Quesnel looked suddenly pleased with life.
Percy slammed his book closed. “Really, girls! I hardly know the medicine from the ailment.”
Quesnel said, “It’s a strange back-handed compliment, ladies, but I’ll take it.”
Rue sighed, realising that this was all her fault and that she had opened up a topic of far greater intimacy than she should have, being the captain. “I do apologise, gentlemen. And of course, Mr Lefoux, if Professor Tunstell poached your lady-love, whether by accident or design, it is bad form, to say the very least. Professor, did you… poach, as it were?”
Percy snorted. “This conversation is ridiculous. Why should I care for the leavings of a mechanically-minded Frenchman?”
Quesnel stood at that, face flushed. “I say, that’s too far.”
Rue sighed. “Gentlemen, forgive me – this is getting us nowhere. I had hoped to clear the air so things could be more pleasant. That seems unlikely at the moment. Shall we adjourn?”
Percy was already up and away, extra helping of Napier pudding in one hand, book in the other.
Quesnel turned to look at Rue as if he felt he owed her an explanation. “It’s the principle of the thing, chérie. Ungentlemanly behaviour. You know my heart belongs only to you. The sunshine of my life, the moon on my horizon, the––”
“Yes, of course, dear. The pearl of your necklace, the rose of your garden.” Rue rolled her eyes and tried not to be actually flattered.
“Oh, yes, those are good too.”
Rue sighed. “Scoot off, Quesnel, do.”
“You are all sweetness and light, mon petit chou.”
Rue did not rise to the bait. Nor was she going to ask him to stop calling her mon petit chou. He knew it galled her but as long as he confined it to the semi-privacy of the stateroom, she would ignore it.
“Shoo to you too.”
Quesnel strode out and Rue sat back down with a sigh.
“More tea?” Prim’s eyes were dancing.
“Thank you. Prim, was that a foolish thing to discuss?”
Primrose remained silent.
“It can’t only be some silly painted lady, can it? Aren’t you dying to know why they hate each other so?”
“Certainly not.” Prim’s tone indicated she probably already knew and that it had something to do with the twin connection. Often it was difficult to remember that Percy and Primrose were related, let alone twins, but a lifetime of experience had given Rue a sense of when she was intruding on their sibling bond. She was about to attempt a new line of conversation when the most amazing sound emanated throughout the ship. It was a new noise entirely and it seemed dangerous.
Rue and Prim leapt to their feet and made for the poop deck as quickly as their skirts would allow.