Lady Maccon grabbed her husband by the arm, practically dragging him into their back parlor and closing the door firmly behind her.
“Oh, Conall, something else has happened, and in the horror of Dubh’s unfortunate demise, I entirely forgot to tell you. I witnessed Countess Nadasdy try to metamorphose a new queen yesterday eve.”
“You never!” Lord Maccon was shaken slightly out of his melancholy. He patted the seat next to him, and Alexia came willingly over to settle beside him.
“It was all a rather rushed affair. One of her drones had an accident. The countess failed the attempt, but it was fascinating, from a scientific standpoint. Did you know the feeder fangs go in first? Oh, and there was blood everywhere! But I get ahead of myself. That’s not the important part. Now, where did I put my reticule? Oh, bother. I must have dropped it when I pulled out Ethel at the station.” She tsked at herself. “Never mind, I think I can remember the sum of the note.”
“Note? What are you on about, my dearest?” Lord Maccon was watching his wife in fascination. Alexia so rarely got flustered; it was charming. It made him want to grab and pull her close, stroke her into stopping all her verbal fluttering.
“Countess Nadasdy summoned me to visit Woolsey because Prudence and I have been summoned, commanded even, to visit the queen of the Alexandria Hive herself.”
Lord Maccon stopped thinking about the fineness of his wife’s figure. “Matakara? Indeed?” He looked impressed.
Alexia was surprised. Her husband was rarely impressed by anything to do with vampires. In fact, Lord Maccon was rarely impressed by anything period, except perhaps Lady Maccon on occasion.
“She commands us to attend her in Egypt as soon as possible. In Egypt, mind you.”
Lord Maccon didn’t flinch at the outrageousness of such a demand, only saying, “Well, I shall have to accompany you, if that is the case.”
Alexia paused. She had her story all prepared. Her explanation as to why she should go. She was even formulating a plan to disguise her reason for traveling. Yet, here her husband went just knuckling under and wanting to go with her. “Wait, what? You aren’t going to object?”
“Would it signify if I did?”
“Well, yes, but I would still go.”
“My love, one does not deny Queen Matakara. Not even if one is Alpha of the London Pack.”
Alexia was so surprised she handed her husband his own argument—the one she had been prepared to battle. “You don’t want to stay and see to the murder investigation?”
“Of course I do. But I would never allow you to go to Egypt alone. It’s a dangerous land and not simply because of the God-Breaker Plague. Lyall, Channing, and Biffy are rather more capable than I like to admit. I’m certain they can handle everything here, including Lady Kingair and a dead werewolf investigation.”
Alexia’s jaw dropped. “Really, this is too easy. What—” She paused. “Oh, I see! You want to investigate what Dubh was up to in Egypt—what he found out there—don’t you?”
Lord Maccon shrugged. “Don’t you?”
“Do you think Lady Kingair was lying to us about why she sent him?”
“No, but I do think he must have uncovered something significant. And why you in particular? Why not his pack?”
“This all has to do with my father. Dubh started to say something to that effect right before he was shot, and Queen Matakara’s note intimated she knew secrets about my father. He spent some time in Egypt, I understand from his journals. Unfortunately, he seems never to have written anything down during those times. Although, he met my mother when he was over there.”
Lord Maccon blinked. “Mrs. Loontwill traveled to Egypt?”
“I know, astonishing to think on, isn’t it?” Alexia grinned at her husband’s obvious confusion.
“Very.”
“So, I should plan the trip? The vampires can’t possibly object to us taking full charge of Prudence for a month or two. After all, it is at their behest.”
“Vampires object to everything. They will probably want to send a drone as monitor.”
“Mmm. Also, it’ll be slower with you along, my love. I was hoping to travel by Dirigible Postal Express, but with a werewolf we’ll have to go by sea.” She patted her husband’s thigh to modulate any insult inherent in the words.
He covered her hand with his large one. “The Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company has a new high-speed ship direct to Alexandria out of Southampton that takes ten days. It also crosses various dirigible flight paths, so we can get regular mail drops. Lyall can keep me informed on the Dubh investigation while we journey there.”
“How very well informed you are, husband, on travel to Egypt. One would almost think you anticipated the jaunt.”
Lord Maccon avoided explaining by asking, “How do you propose to disguise the purpose of our journey?”
Alexia grinned. “Let me rest for a bit. I’ll make a midnight call, determine if the other party is amenable, and let you know later.”
“My dearest love, I hate it when you come over mysterious. It indicates that I will be made uncomfortable by the results.”
“Pish-tosh, you love it. It keeps you on your very estimable toes.”
“Come here, you impossible woman.” Conall grabbed his wife and held her close, kissing her neck and then her lips.
Alexia perfectly understood the nature of the caress. “We should go to bed directly, my love, have a sleep.”
“Sleep?”
Alexia was extremely susceptible to that particular tone in her husband’s voice.
They made their way up the stairs in their own home and then out and across the little drawbridge into Lord Akeldama’s town house, where they kept their secret bedchamber in his third best closet. Alexia did not summon Biffy, instead allowing Conall to fumble with her buttons and stays, far more patient with his fiddling than she ordinarily was. He managed her dress, corset, and underthings in record time, and she made short work of his clothing. Alexia had learned her way around a man’s toilette after only a week or so of marriage. She had also learned to appreciate the warmth of Conall’s bare flesh against her own. Terribly hedonistic of her, such unconditional surrender, and she should never admit such a thing to anyone. There was something about connubial relations that appealed, sticky as they might be. She found her husband’s touch as necessary to her daily routine as tea. Possibly more difficult to give up.
Alexia let Conall swoop her up and deposit her onto the big feather mattress, following her down into the puffy warmth. Once there, however, she gently but firmly took the control from him. Most of the time, because her husband was a dear bossy brute in the best possible way, she let him take charge in the matter of bed sport. But sometimes he must be reminded that she, too, was an Alpha, and her forthright nature would not permit her to always follow his lead in any part of their life together. She knew, given Dubh’s death, that Conall needed to be cared for, and she needed to look after him. The evening called for gentleness, long smooth caresses, and slow kisses, reminding them both that they were alive and that they were together. She wanted to make him believe through her touch that she wasn’t going anywhere. Their customary rough, joyful, nibbling passion could wait until she had made her point as firmly as she could, in a language Conall understood perfectly.
Ivy Tunstell received Alexia Maccon in her sitting room. The advent of twins into Mrs. Tunstell’s life had affected neither the decoration of her house, which was pastel and frilly, nor of herself, who was more so. How she and her husband afforded a nursemaid Alexia would never be so gauche as to ask. With such an addendum to their household staff, Ivy’s domestic bliss and stage appearances were little affected by the unexpected double blessing. As a matter of fact, she looked, behaved, and spoke much as she had before she married.