“Pardon me?” Quesnel was actually shocked.
Rue shook her head. Despite her vaunted carefree nature, Aggie’s hostility stung. “You mean to say, you never wonder why I remain unmarried?”
Quesnel was taken aback. “No.”
“Metanatural,” Rue explained succinctly.
“What has that to do with it?”
“Good old Rue, fun for a laugh, but who would want to marry that? No idea what kind of creature she might birth, or become herself. Bad bet. Not even human.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. No one thinks…”
“Oh, yes, they do. It’s fine. I’ve made my peace with it. And, yes, I have powerful parents, but most of the time that’s a hindrance. Who’d want to marry into either household without ulterior motive? How do I trust any offer as genuine? I’m defined by my supernatural relationships.”
“And me, where do I fit in?”
“It’s not like you want to marry me. Oh, don’t look so upset. I’m not fishing for an address. I’m only pointing out that who I am is tempered by what I am in the eyes of society. I’m liminal to the aristocracy, just as I’m liminal to the supernatural set. Not quite a member, not quite on the outside either.”
Quesnel cocked his head. “Is that why you like captaining a dirigible so much? It’s your place?”
“Although now it seems I’m not good at it.”
“What did I say? Ignore Aggie. She’s bitter. That’s her personality flaw, not yours.”
“You’re sweet to comfort me.” Rue patted Quesnel as they emerged into the hall of the midship level.
Quesnel lowered his voice. “I would, you know.”
“Mmm?”
“Marry you.”
Rue kissed his cheek absentmindedly. “Chivalrous, darling, but we both know you don’t really mean it.”
With which Rue drifted towards her private chambers.
She gasped when he caught her hand and pulled her into his arms. The mid-level hallway was empty, thank goodness. Rue smiled against the sweet insistence of his mouth. Such a nice boy, trying to make me feel better. It worked. His kisses were distracting – a soothing balm to her wounded feelings. There seemed a desperate intent behind them, as though he were trying to make her understand something. Her own worth, perhaps? His hands were firm against her waist. He also had learned much during their French lessons – what she liked, how she preferred to be touched.
He leaned back against the wall, pulled her against him, braced and eager.
Rue was contemplating inviting him to her room, although it was mid-shift and certainly not an ideal time for canoodling.
All of a sudden, he pushed her away to the other side of the hall – she was adrift, bereft.
Lady Maccon was coming out of the library. Fortunately, she had her nose in a book and hadn’t witnessed their embrace.
By the time she looked up, they were a respectable distance apart, only a little rumpled.
“Infant. Mr Lefoux.”
“Mother.”
“Lady Maccon.”
Rue said, “That book I was telling you about? I believe Percy has a copy. Would you like to… ?”
Quesnel followed her lead with the consummate skill of a natural charlatan. “Yes, indeed.”
Lady Maccon gave only a slight rolling of her eyes to indicate her suspicions.
Rue suppressed a giggle as Quesnel guided her into the library.
A cursory glance about the stacks proved the room to be empty.
Quesnel had her back in his arms in a trice. “Where were we?”
“I believe your lips were here.” Rue pointed. “And your hands here.” She pointed again. “And mine were here.” At the last, she suited her actions to her words.
“What a good memory you have, Lady Prudence.” Quesnel was intent on covering her neck with kisses – what he could reach through the ruffles of her dress.
The library door banged open, interrupting them again. They sprang apart. Quesnel hurriedly buttoned his waistcoat. Rue patted at her ruffles to ensure they weren’t in disarray.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Percy glared. It was hard to tell whether he was annoyed at having discovered them in a compromising position or annoyed at encountering anyone at all.
“Come for a book, have you? Giving in to temptation at last?” Rue retorted quickly.
“Certainly not! In case you have forgotten, my desk is here. I wasn’t going to read anything, only look something up.”
He pointed to a corner where he’d pushed some books aside to make room for a tiny escritoire. Above it, he and Virgil had contrived a unique candelabra made up of hundreds of tiny books, on a pulley system that could twirl and raise and lower. The person seated at the desk could access any book he wanted.
“What on earth is that?” Quesnel was entranced.
“My information cloud.” Percy was distracted into an explanation of his own brilliance. “It’s an index of sorts. If I swing it like so…”
The door opened again. Primrose entered, followed by Tasherit.
“You most certainly are!” the werelioness was saying.
“I am not!” Prim responded, before noticing she had an audience. “Rue. Mr Lefoux. Percy.”
“Miss Tunstell.” Quesnel gave a slight bow. “Miss Sekhmet.”
“Is everyone to invade my library?” Percy wanted to know.
“We were here first.” Rue wasn’t about to be bossed around by Percival Tunstell on her own ship.