“Well, don’t go practising with just anyone now, please?” Quesnel looked faintly serious again but only in a flirty way, which was reassuring. They were back on familiar ground. Or as familiar as just having kissed could get.
Rue paused, pretending to consider the suggestion. As if there were anyone else around suitable to further experimentation. “Oh, very well, if you insist.”
Quesnel grinned, showing dimples. “I do.”
Very daringly, Rue said, “I could take you on in a trial position, as a kind of tutor? You are, after all, years older than me and very experienced.”
Quesnel looked a little shocked.
Look at me go, thought Rue. More daring than the rake himself!
“Can I think about it?” he quavered.
Rue stuck her nose in the air, hurt that he hadn’t leapt at the chance. “Well, if you feel you can’t be discreet with my reputation…”
Quesnel’s eyebrows arched. “I think it is more that you had better be clear with me on the perimeters of the position on offer.”
Rue frowned. “Well, you know, courting and romance and stuff. I’d like to learn, personally, in a low-risk, scientifically experimental situation.”
Quesnel made a funny eep noise. “Low risk? Should I be insulted?”
Rue laughed at him. “Don’t be silly. You and I both know you have a reputation to maintain.”
“Oh, do I?”
Rue continued blithely on. “The reputation of not playing for real stakes and keeping your wagers small and, mostly, circumspect.”
“Ouch, mon petit chou. You wound me.”
“The truth, she hurts sometimes. So I think we could play this as a private game, don’t you?” Rue thought she should pucker up her lips seductively to get him to kiss her again. Then she thought she’d look fish-like. Or would she? This was why she needed his help!
Coincidentally, Quesnel looked not unlike one who had swallowed said fish. Apparently, his suave manners in the arena of romance paled before Rue’s bluntness. “I think it would be best if I headed to bed at this juncture. Alone. Good night, chérie.”
“Good night, Quesnel.” Rue was amazed to think she had actually scared him off.
She noticed that he walked a little funnily as he wended his way down the hallway to his own room.
Of course, later on, Rue could not help running back over the experience in her head, staring into the darkness despite her exhaustion and the lateness of the hour. Perhaps she shouldn’t go around attempting to arrange a liaison with her chief engineer. Then again, how else was she supposed to learn anything useful about romance? Quesnel had always flirted but never for one moment had she supposed him serious in his interest. He couldn’t fear for his bachelorhood, could he? She shuddered at the very idea she would set out to trap anyone in to matrimony. However, the only other explanation for his reluctance was worse. Surely he couldn’t be so very not serious that he wasn’t attracted to her at all? Had he be faking everything? Perhaps she was too respectable? Rue was tolerably certain she did not want to be accused of being another one in a long succession of Quesnel’s fancy ladies. On the other hand, she also didn’t want to be Mrs Lefoux anytime soon. She’d thought that she’d come up with a good solution. Why had he reacted so badly? Had she not made her feelings clear?
For the first time in her life, Prudence Alessandra Maccon Akeldama actually wished for the advice of her mother. Unfortunately, said mother was thousands of leagues away, and probably wouldn’t be much help. She’d simply suggest hitting Quesnel over the head with a parasol. Her on-board confidents would be equally useless. Primrose was too respectable and Percy too disinterested.
I’m on my own with this one.
Early next morning Spoo roused them with the information that Lieutenant Broadwattle’s promised guide was waiting onshore. The guide turned out to be female. She looked terribly familiar, an inordinately tall and beautiful woman swathed in white robes.
Rue was beginning to understand the difference between masculine and feminine garb, and these were the drapes worn by men. Did Miss Sekhmet wish to be mistaken for a man? She supposed the woman was tall and thin enough to carry it off, with her face covered. While her movements were smooth and sensual, they were not precisely feminine.
Rue could see that such apparel might be cooler than her own red-check walking dress with the cream pleated shirtwaist, high neck, and puffed sleeves. She wondered what might be said if she wore a loose tunic and trousers. Since she’d started down the path towards doom by canoodling with a mechanically minded Frenchman only last night, the possibilities seemed endless. Why stop there? Dress reform!
All unaware of Rue’s revolutionary thoughts, Quesnel and Primrose joined her, and they all made their way down the gangplank.
Quesnel seemed actually tongue-tied in the face of Miss Sekhmet’s beauty. A state no doubt entirely unfamiliar to him.
She seemed to have little or no interest in the engineer.
She showed, however, good grace when meeting Primrose.
“You’re our guide?” Prim whispered, her vaunted composure shaken.
Rue, who liked stirring the pot, said, “Miss Sekhmet here represents the counter-interests I was telling you about. Speaking of which, what happened to your negotiator last night? I wore purple and everything.”
Sekhmet’s lip curled. “Hence the reason I am here now and not your scheduled guide.” She looked awfully tired. “Rakshasas got him. Glad you weathered the encounter last night.”
“Not very nice, are they?’
“I did warn you. You knew we were not the only players in India.”
“Of course, but I didn’t think the others would be so very supernatural.”
Sekhmet gave her a funny look at that statement.
“How come you yourself are unable to conduct negotiations?” Rue asked.
Sekhmet gave her another funny look. “Do I seem like the type? Among other things, I’m a woman. I can’t speak for them.”
“Local custom? If you say so. You seem capable enough to me.”
“And now it’s daytime. So we must wait again.”
“What’s your interest then?” Rue wanted to know.
“Me? Balance, I suppose.” Miss Sekhmet got all philosophical. “And keeping you safe. You are our miracle.”
Rue was instantly suspicious. “Did Paw send you?”
“I know not of the Paw. But, Lady Akeldama, you are the only one of your kind.”
“You say that as if she were some rare exotic species and you a collector,” Primrose interjected softly. Prim was prone to getting protective of Rue when people saw only her friend’s metanatural state, and forgot she was also a person.
Miss Sekhmet made that funny little bow. “I apologise. No insult was intended. I understand your wish for freedom, I more than anyone.” It sounded like a vow. “But I also value your uniqueness. In this instance, however, my function is only to act as a liaison and, at the moment, a guide. Come, allow me to show you this amazing city.”
Rue didn’t know why but she trusted the austere beauty.
Primrose was more cautious. Under cover of getting Rue to help secure her sun hat, she said very quietly, “She’s too beautiful for words, but she’s more than that.”
Rue giggled. “Very astute observation.” Her friend seemed to have been thrown for a loop by their new acquaintance, which never happened to Primrose.
“Oh, stop it!” said Prim, blushing. “Give me time to assess her character further. I’ll be more articulate then.”
Rue stopped grinning with an effort. “Come on – looks like we must rescue Quesnel. He’s trying to flirt and she is having none of it.”
Rue warmed to Sekhmet even more. Not only had she discombobulated Prim, but Quesnel was red-faced and stuttering. None of his charm had any effect on the goddess-like female. Miss Sekhmet was merely glaring at him as if he were some unpleasant bug, and rewrapping her head with the white cloth to hide her face.
“It’s best if I’m not recognised and easiest if the locals think me a man,” she explained when Primrose gave her an inquisitive look.
“Oh,” ventured Prim, surprised by her tone. “Then you aren’t a local yourself?”
“Somewhat further west,” was their guide’s reply. Odd thing to say, since west of Bombay was nothing but water.
Prim would have pressed but Miss Sekhmet began striding off at quite a masculine speed, expecting them to follow. Quesnel offered the ladies his arms and they scuttled after. They caught up about halfway down the promenade, only to be hailed by one additional member to their party.
Percy came panting up behind them.