They all knew he could not take the box away from her, even with supernatural speed. The moment he touched her skin, Rue would have his vampire abilities and still be in possession of the snuff box. The vampires called her soul-stealer, the werewolves called her flayer, the scientists metanatural, and there hadn’t been one like her for thousands of years. She’d spent her childhood spoiled and studied in turn, combating three overbearing parents. It made for interesting results. Results like the fact that even the most powerful rove in the whole of the British Empire could not extract one snuff box from her if she didn’t want him too.
“Troublesome infant,” grumbled Dama, and stopped the simulated pouting.
“Well?”
“It’s not the snuff box, nor the snuff, my little limpet.”
“Oh?”
Dama crossed his arms. “Did you examine it closely?”
“Of course.”
The vampire arched one perfect blond eyebrow – exactly the correct shade, slightly darker than his hair. Artificially darkened, of course, but then his hair was artificially lightened every evening. Dama left nothing to chance, least of all his own appearance.
Rue stood and went to retrieve a pair of high powered glassicals from a nearby sideboard. She popped them on, the single magnification lens emphasising her left eye to such an extent as to seem grotesque. Even though, if asked, Rue would have said her eyes were her best feature.
She checked the snuff box over carefully, running her hands along the sides. Soon she spotted the secondary catch inside the box, buried in snuff. It was tiny and hidden beneath the lid’s silver hinge.
“Careful!” warned Dama, too late.
Rue pressed the catch. The top of the inside of the box flipped open to reveal a hidden chamber underneath. Of course, this sprayed snuff everywhere, covering Rue’s head and chest in a fine coating of peppery smelling brown powder. The glassicals protected her eyes and Rue was so taken with her discovery that she didn’t bother to brush the snuff from her hair and décolletage.
Prim stood – the cat murmured an objection – and marched over, partly to examine the discovery, partly to repair the damage to Rue’s appearance.
“What is it? More snuff?” she asked, applying her handkerchief with vigour.
Inside the bottom compartment of the box was more vegetative matter.
Rue shook her head, snuff puffed out of her hair. “No, the leaf is too big. A new breed of pipe tobacco?” She was already sticking her nose down to sniff. She couldn’t get through the scent of snuff, however. She wasn’t in wolf form, so she hadn’t the nose to distinguish nuances.
The vampire tut-tutted and used a silk scarf to clean his adopted daughter’s face. “No, darling, no, not tobacco.”
Rue crowed out the only other possibility. “Tea!”
Dama nodded. “Indeed. A new kind, Puggle. They tell me it grows better, faster and in a wider range of climates than the Chinese varieties. Can you imagine the possibilities in India if this turns out to be a viable beverage?”
Rue frowned. “You’d be stomping all over Bloody John’s territory. No wonder you wanted this to be secretive.” The East India Company was referred to as Bloody John as it was mostly backed by vampire hives. If Dama wanted a controlling interest in a tea farm overseas, he was going up against other vampires. Vampires whose interest – as potentate – he was supposed to protect. A delicate matter indeed.
Dama twinkled at her. “I’m going to check this leaf against the British pallet. If it’s drinkable, I’m investing in eight thousand plants and you, my darling Puggle-girl, are going to India to meet said plants, ascertain the location and acquisition of land, hire supervisors, and commence distribution.”
Primrose was pleased. “India? Lovely! Weren’t you just saying we should get out of London, Rue?” She looked to her friend for approbation.
No one, not even Dama, questioned the fact that Primrose would go with Rue. Prim always went with Rue. Besides, Rue couldn’t very well travel as an unmarried young lady alone.
“Dama. What a delightful scheme. But – and I don’t mean to throw a spanner – what do I know about tea-growing? I’ll need native contacts familiar with the territory and climate.” But Rue was already considering her options, and Dama only nodded. “And, more importantly, who are you going to test the tea on?”
“Your mother, of course, Puggle,” replied the vampire. “Can you think of a better option?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Rue grimaced, snapped the secret compartment shut and closed the snuff box. She went to hand it over to Dama but then held on to it.
“India, did you say, Dama?”
“India, my darling heart. I have specialist tea contacts in that area ready to meet with you and facilitate this endeavour.”
“Of course you do.” But Rue was smiling.
“Doesn’t everyone have specialist tea contacts?” Dama smiled back.
“Mother and Paw approve your plan?”
“Ah, yes, well, I haven’t exactly talked to your blood parents on the subject yet.”
“Oh dear,” said Prim. She adored Dama and his drones, and could cope very well with vampires, having been raised in a hive, but she was rather terrified of Rue’s blood parents. The formidable Lord and Lady Maccon were both prone to yelling loudly and bashing the noggins of those whose opinions did not mesh with theirs. Even though they had grown up best friends, Primrose had rarely been exposed to them. Rue had rarely been exposed to them, for that matter.
Primrose was frowning. “How will we get to India?”
Dama brightened. He had been waiting for this question. “Aha! Now that, my posy, is an answer I believe Puggle here will very much enjoy.”
Rue, intrigued, gave him what he wanted – the snuff box.
Dama took it carefully so as not to disturb the contents or to touch her hand. He slid it inside his waistcoat pocket. The waistcoat was made of gold lace over fine teal silk with jet buttons, and looked to be so tight a pocket would not accommodate a gooseberry, let alone a snuff box. Nevertheless, it disappeared within, as if by magic.
The vampire was about to tell them more when his head jerked up. He bared his fangs, showing the full length. His nostrils flared as if he scented something in the air.
Rue was instantly on guard. “What?”
Dama held up one unnaturally pale hand to quiet her. His perfect face, too beautiful, narrowed and became hunter-like. “Intruder.”
The door knocker reverberated sharp and loud.
They all jumped to stand.
A rustle and a clatter emanated from the hallway and a drone’s pleasant voice said, “What ho?” to whomever was on the other side of the door. There was a soft murmur of exchanged pleasantries. Then the drone said loudly, trained to be at a level that his vampire master could hear from the drawing room, “No, you may not come in. Not invited. But I’ll fetch her for you, if you insist.”
A moment later a tentative knock came at the drawing room door. “My lord?”
“Yes, Winkle?”