The school was demolished for scrap. There was no sign of Professor Braithwope, and no one ever saw him again. This was, perhaps, a good thing. If he survived, with so many kills under his cravat, even the most militant of hives would have called for his execution—he was no longer civilized. If, on occasion, Professor Lefoux returned from Paris, and took a long train ride, and then a long carriage drive far out into the wilds of Dartmoor, it was thought mere sentimentality for a life she had lost. If Swiffle-on-Exe heard rumors of a very odd hermit, no one connected the two. If, on the occasional evening, stories of that hermit wearing a top hat and waltzing with the rabbits percolated through the town, scaring schoolboys, he was thought no more than the local drunk. And then the local bogeyman. And then mere myth. For no one thought to wonder that their dancing hermit had lived a very long time, whot?

Mademoiselle Geraldine formally adopted Handle and saw him through medical training. Together, they immigrated to America—fewer vampires—where he wrote a popular, well-respected book in his later years entitled Plain Home Talk Embracing Medical Common Sense, directed at young ladies of quality. It went into multiple editions and allowed him to retire a wealthy man.

Sister Mattie settled into life in a small seaside resort, where she grew prizewinning foxgloves and had a thriving business in medicinal herbs, common pest poisons, and fancy soaps.

Lady Linette opened an acting school in London and produced a bevy of successful female dramatists who all had a habit of treading the boards for more years than was natural, marrying above their station, and ending it badly—for the husband. She numbered the well-known stage siren Miss Mabel Dair among her graduates. Although Sophronia saw her old teacher occasionally, she never did find out Lady Linette’s true age. Nor how she had become a lady. Nor where she was born, accent notwithstanding. By then Sophronia had learned to accept that there were limits to even her abilities. So Lady Linette kept her secrets—or possibly other people’s.

It took a year, but in 1855 the dewan finally saw his Clandestine Information Act voted into law. All mechanicals were declared a threat to the commonwealth. However, antisupernatural members of parliament were able to include a line naming supernatural creatures enemy intelligencers. In order to prevent vampires and werewolves from accessing mechanical and mechanimal technology, they were forbidden to see the patents. The dewan was livid, but Sophronia, who suspected that control over the technology had been Countess Nadasdy’s—and possibly Lord Akeldama’s—end game all along, was happy to see mechanicals outside of everyone’s control.

“I understand a certain mysterious butler was integral to the signing. Will you ever tell me about him?” Sophronia asked the dewan, sipping a small sherry after dinner one evening.

Soap smiled and looked up from his snifter of brandy. “I told you she wouldn’t forget.”

The dewan huffed in pleased exasperation. “Of course not. How did you find out he was at the CIA signing, little miss?”

“You indentured me for my discretion, sir.”

“Mmm. Only with my own secrets.”

Silence met that.

He snorted and let the matter drop. “Funny you should ask about him. He’s your first assignment. Somewhat.”

Sophronia straightened. Since moving in, he’d given her the odd task around town, but nothing that stretched her training. She was getting bored, and the butler character was intriguing.

“He’s the guardian of the child who inherited the mechanical patents. I’ve had to guarantee his signature and his silence over an Egyptian affair by agreeing to protect his ward.”

“Egypt?”

“No, I’m not sending you abroad. The child lives here in London. Certain unsavory Italians are interested in the toddler and steps must be taken to protect her. You are to be those steps.”

Sophronia grimaced. It sounded excessively dull. “You want me to watchdog an infant?”

“Worse. For the sake of propriety, I’m installing you as nanny. There is a ball tomorrow night that the mother will be attending. She’s frivolous. You are to become friends, and then a family connection will be miraculously discovered. You will be invited to stay for an indefinite time.”

Sophronia nodded. Right now she was supposedly traveling abroad with Agatha, as her parents would not approve of her living with the dewan under any circumstances but marriage. Installing her as a semipermanent companion with a respectable family was the single best way for her mother to utterly forget about her.

She reached across the table and took Soap’s hand.

His dark eyes were pleased. “You won’t be here, but you’ll be living close.”

“Pup’s not trained yet,” said the dewan.

“I take it the plan is to set us into motion as field agents as soon as he is?” Sophronia was hopeful.

The dewan nodded. “Between the two of you, there are few infiltration gaps. What parts of society you can’t get into, he can. You’ll be a good team, so long as you are circumspect.” He was glaring at their entwined fingers.

Sophronia did not move her hand from Soap’s. “I am always circumspect.”

The dewan sighed. “Children, if you persist in this you’ll be stuck living in shadows all your lives.”

Sophronia lifted Soap’s hand to her lips and kissed it. “We like the shadows. That’s where all the power is.”

Soap looked to his Alpha. “We’ll spend many happy years together in sinful incognito, interfering with the world for the greater good.”