“Which ones are the infiltrators?” asked Sophronia before they could get distracted by her romantic entanglements.

Pillover turned to point to the far corner of the room, near the head table. “Over there, with Lord Mersey, of course. Oh, hold the horses. They’ve gone!”

“Of course they’ve gone.” Sophronia whirled to find out where.

“Now, wait a moment, young lady.” Dimity sounded like Mademoiselle Geraldine in her frustration. “We only just got here.”

“You stay,” said Sophronia magnanimously. “I’m going after.”

“But you don’t even know where they went!” objected Agatha.

“And you can’t possibly leave without saying good evening to me.” A new voice, warm as honey, joined the conversation.

“Gammon!” said Pillover, and then, “Come along, Miss Woosmoss. This is too rich for my blood.”

Dimity also suddenly seemed to feel she was wanted elsewhere. Face still protected by her lace fan, she wandered into the crowd in a manner guaranteed to make her entirely unremarkable. She really had been paying attention in lessons of late.

“Ah, good evening, Lord Mersey.” Sophronia’s voice was equally honeyed.

“Miss Temminnick. I understood you would not be joining us this evening.”

“Did you? How droll.”

“Of course, silly me. You go wherever you want, don’t you, Ria?” He seemed to be enjoying the fact that, this time, Sophronia was acting like Sophronia. Even if that meant she was sharp with him, or possibly because she was sharp with him.

“Not everywhere.”

“They trained you too well, didn’t they?”

Sophronia cocked her head. He was acting particularly combative. She shivered her fan slightly to expose something more of her neckline.

Felix paused, arrested, but it didn’t seem to lighten his mood. If anything, it made him glower. “Seen any nice werewolves lately?”

“There was a lovely dinner party while I was in London last week. You should have been there.”

“I probably should. But I was thinking, perhaps somewhat more recently.”

Sudden dread hit the pit of Sophronia’s stomach. He knows Soap is here. Does that mean the Picklemen know? Is Soap in danger? “What information do you think you have, Felix?” She lowered her voice.

Blow the dewan’s seduction plan, she thought. I’m going to strangle the little traitor right here. Where’s my garrote? Her free hand fisted around her carnet de bal. The long chains were strong enough to wrap around someone’s neck—she’d made certain of it.

Felix looked down at his fingernails and pursed his beautiful mouth. “Nothing of any consequence. But then, neither is he.”

Strangling is too good for him. Sophronia snapped the guard off her bladed fan with her thumb and stepped in a little closer. The razor edge gleamed.

“Now, now, Miss Temminnick, you wouldn’t want to ruin that stunning—really, quite stunning, and so mature—dress with blood, would you?”

Sophronia gave a cold smile. “This dress is red, my dear viscount, with a pattern designed to hide stains.”

Felix looked slightly uncomfortable. “Of course it is. And yet you can’t help him by threatening me.”

“Killing him once wasn’t enough for you?”

Felix grimaced. “What, bitter you can’t spawn tea-colored infants named Bubble and Suds?”

“Is that an attempt at humor? I wouldn’t bother if I were you.”

Felix spoke through gritted teeth. “You were mine and he stole you.”

“Poor boy, is that what you thought?” Sophronia considered the root of his anger. Was I some weird prize to him or did I actually break his heart? Terribly careless of me if I did. And either way, Soap suffers because of his bitterness? “You never had me, silly. Even if you had, you would have driven me away, in the end. I don’t like traitors.”

Felix’s beautiful blue eyes turned pleading. “I tried to warn you from the dirigible, remember? I tried to stop my father from shooting.”

“And yet you told him we were Geraldine’s girls, putting us all in danger in the first place.”

“You’ve been safe all this time, no attempts on your life. Not from my people, anyway.”

“Because we’ve been at school and you couldn’t get to us!”

“And what about when you were in London recently?”

“You think I didn’t know the werewolves had guards around my sister’s house every night? Felix.” Sophronia was frustrated. “Why are we always at dagger points?” Once, he had been a gentleman. She still remembered the prong incident fondly.

“Because you chose wrong.”

Sophronia wasn’t certain if he was talking about the Picklemen or Soap. “No, you did.”

Something gleamed in his pale eyes. “You sure about that? You don’t know everything, Ria. You only think you do.” There was something in his tone. Had his loyalties shifted?

“Actually, I know I don’t. So you tell me. The Picklemen on board, what do they want?”

“Not you.”

“Someone else, then? Someone who knows something. Lady Linette, perhaps?” She looked up at the head table over the sharp edge of her fan. Lady Linette sat chatting animatedly next to Mademoiselle Geraldine. There was no one lurking in the shadows to kidnap her. As if that were possible with Lady Linette.