Save Sidheag, they were all still wearing masquerade outfits, without masks, hair sticking up or fallen loose.
“We must look a treat,” said Dimity into the exhausted silence.
Sophronia shook herself. “You’re right, we should change. Best if we look more like stowaways, in case we do get caught.”
The boys rose and made as if to leave the coach.
Sophronia had no idea where they intended to go, perhaps outside to balance on the footboard or climb back onto the roof? She shook her head. “We should stick together. We’ll have to trust you two to turn around and not look.”
Dimity went white as a sheet, more terrified by this than the hair-raising ride they had recently endured. “Must we? If anyone finds out, our reputations will be in absolute tatters, so…”
“We must ensure no one finds out,” said Sidheag, already unbuttoning her hideous tweed dress.
Then Soap, still facing them, went red as a beet at Sidheag’s action and hastily turned to face the back of his seat, eyes screwed tightly shut.
Felix, after one startled glance, did the same. He did not look quite so embarrassed.
Sidheag continued with her changing while Sophronia upended the bag of clothes. She rummaged through for something that looked to fit her friend, realizing that they’d have to cannibalize the train curtain cords for belts. Dimity helped Sidheag remove her corset, tight lipped with disapproval. Sophronia envied her the fact that she didn’t have to wrap. Sidheag donned a shirt, vest, and trousers. Her boots were already so practical as to be almost masculine. Once out of her dress, she looked very like a boy, lanky with mannish features. Were it not for her long hair, she could pass without further mussing.
“We could cut it,” said Sophronia, who already had out her sewing shears to strip a petticoat for chest wraps.
She would never have thought Sidheag vain, but the girl looked genuinely perturbed at the suggestion.
“It’s her best feature,” protested Dimity.
Sidheag said, very quietly, “Captain Niall prefers long hair.”
“Oh, does he indeed?” said Sophronia, struggling to keep a straight face. “We’ll leave it, then.”
Dimity whispered, “How did you find that out?”
Without answering, Sidheag plaited and wound her hair up tight to her head. She pulled a cap on over it and transformed, suddenly, into a rather good-looking young man. She then helped unbutton Dimity’s beautiful gold gown. Sophronia stuffed it unceremoniously into the sack, which made Dimity look as if she might start crying. She refused to remove her stays, and chose some of the baggiest of the clothing so that she looked like a strangely top-heavy vagabond. Even in plaits, Dimity’s hair was quite poufy and held her cap out about her head. In the end, she resembled nothing more than a walking, talking mushroom. With her round, feminine face, one really had to squint to see her as male.
After brief discussion, they added a smudge of mustache to her upper lip with a bit of coal from Bumbersnoot’s stores. It wasn’t much help.
Sophronia stripped self-consciously, including her stays, before pulling on a shirt and jodhpurs. She had a passing good figure, but fortunately it wasn’t overly generous. She put her masquerade apron back on, instead of a waistcoat. Over that she added a tweed hunting jacket. It made her look like a butcher’s boy with a pocket obsession, but she liked how useful the apron was and wasn’t going to let it go.
“You can turn back ’round.”
The boys did so. Felix snickered at Dimity’s appearance, but Soap was still so embarrassed he kept looking anywhere but at them.
“What’s he up to?” Felix asked, pointing to where Bumbersnoot, near the door, made a funny little circle of discomfort.
“Oh, dear,” said Dimity. “Look away, do.”
Felix did not, as there was nowhere else safe to look, watching with interest as Bumbersnoot squatted and ejected, out his back side, the gift Mrs. Barnaclegoose had passed along. It was a most undignified and anatomically accurate expulsion mechanism.
“Oh, yes,” said Sophronia, reaching for it.
A bladed fan! Far nicer than the ones they had practiced with, this one was steel, with filigree handle elements, making it lighter and more delicate looking. It had a leather sheath that was beautifully embossed, looking almost like a piece of mysteriously large and elaborate jewelry as it hung from a little strap with a tassel.
“That’s a pretty thing,” said Felix. “Gift from an admirer?”
Sophronia wasn’t going to give him any quarter. “I have a certain connection in London,” she said. Letting him think in terms of suitor rather than prospective patron.
Felix’s face went slightly sour. He clearly didn’t like the idea of a London rival, a man already finished with his education, based in town, with funds to spare.
Sophronia had no idea how Lord Akeldama knew she wanted one. Nor how he knew Mrs. Barnaclegoose could get it to her. The dandy vampire had more than a few tricks to go along with all those fancies. However, she was rather in love, she hated to admit. With the fan, of course, not Lord Akeldama. She tested the edge, finding it beautifully sharp, and then carefully fastened the guard and put the bladed fan away in one of her larger pockets.
“What kind of connection?” pried Felix.
“A sharp one,” answered Sophronia coyly.
“Come with me to London, Ria. I’ll buy you such pretty things.”
Soap jumped in, gruff and annoyed. “Miss Temminnick doesn’t want your kind of patronage, Pickleman’s get.”
“Did I say anything about patronage?”
Sophronia sighed. “Hush up and change, please, both of you.”
Then it was the young ladies’ turn to look away while the boys stripped. Sophronia peeked—of course she peeked!—and she wouldn’t have been surprised if the other two did as well. Sidheag, raised by werewolves, had seen men bare before, but these were boys their own age—how could she resist? Besides, Sidheag wasn’t shy. Dimity rarely had the advantage, or disadvantage, but she was terribly curious about the opposite sex. Soap, Sophronia noted, had layered on more muscle than she’d expected. Felix seemed slight, white, and lean next to the sootie. Sophronia was ashamed of herself, but that didn’t stop her from taking a great number of mental notes. She’d been well trained in how to do so. It would be a while before she and Dimity could discuss the matter, and she wanted as much detail as possible for the purposes of compared opinions.
All too soon, Soap’s dandy and Felix’s jester costumes were added to the sack. The first-class coach now looked, by all accounts, to be occupied by a gang of scruffy lads bent on postal fraud or meat pie heists.
It had been a long night and everyone was glassy eyed—particularly Sidheag, who’d undertaken an entire wolf-ride from London before their balloon excursion. They agreed to take watches. Sophronia, still excited by the hunt and accustomed to prowling about late, chose first watch. She added, quite firmly, that she would take it with Soap, to forestall any bickering. Dimity stretched out on one bench and Sidheag on the other, with Felix gallantly taking the floor in the middle, using the bag of costumes as a pillow. Bumbersnoot curled up comfortably at his feet. A fact for which the young man was no doubt grateful, as the mechanimal was an excellent foot warmer.