"No, silly, for dinner."

"Does it have a matched hat?"

Miss Hisselpenny looked up from tidying her stack of hatboxes with a disgusted expression. "Alexia, do not talk such folderol. It is a dinner dinner gown." gown."

"Then I think it will serve very well. May I ask you a favor? I have a gift for my husband in this case. Do you think I might conceal it in your room for the time being so he does not accidentally uncover it? I wish it to be a surprise."

Miss Hisselpenny's eyes shone. "Oh, really! How lovely and wifely of you. I should never have pegged you for a romantic."

Lady Maccon winced.

"What is it?"

Alexia grappled with her brain for an appropriate answer. What would one possibly buy for a man and then hide in a dispatch case? "Uh. Socks."

Miss Hisselpenny was crushed. "Only socks? I hardly think socks cry out for secrecy."

"They are lucky, special socks."

Miss Hisselpenny saw no apparent illogicality in that and carefully tucked Lady Maccon's dispatch case behind her stack of hatboxes.

"I may need to access it from time to time," said Alexia.

Miss Hisselpenny was bemused. "Why?"

"To, uh, check on the condition of the, uh, socks."

"Alexia, are you feeling quite the thing?"

Lady Maccon instantly spoke, in order to throw Miss Hisselpenny off the scent. "Did you know, I just pa.s.sed Tunstell leaving Felicity's rooms."

Ivy gasped. "No!" She immediately began furiously arranging her accessories for dinner, tossing gloves, jewelry, and lacy hair cap on top of the dress already laid out upon the bed.

"Alexia, I do not mean to be at all rude. But I really do believe your sister may be an actual nincomp.o.o.p."

"Oh, that is perfectly all right, Ivy dear. I cannot stomach her myself," replied Lady Maccon. And then, because she felt guilty for having told her about Tunstell, "Would you like to borrow Angelique this evening to do up your hair? The rain's ruined mine beyond all repair I'm afraid, so it would be a wasted effort."

"Oh, really? Thank you, that would be lovely." Ivy perked up immediately.

With that, Lady Maccon retreated to her own room to dress.

"Angelique?" The maid was busy unpacking when Lady Maccon reentered her bedroom.

"I have told Ivy she may have you for her hair this evening. Not a thing could possibly be done to help mine at this point." Alexia's dark locks were a ma.s.s of frizzy curls in reaction to the unpleasant Scottish climate. "I shall simply pop on one of those horrible lace matron's caps you are always trying to get me to wear."

"Yez, my lady." The maid bobbed a curtsy and went to do as she was bid. She paused in the doorway, looking back at her mistress. "Please, my lady, why is Madame Lefoux still with us?"

"You really do not like her, do you, Angelique?"

A quintessentially French shrug met that statement.

"It was my husband's idea, I am afraid to say. I do not trust her either, mind you. But you know how Conall gets. Apparently, Kingair has a malfunctioning aethographic transmitter. I know, you might well look surprised. Who would have thought a backwater place like this could possess anything so modern? Apparently they do, and it has been having difficulties. Secondhand goods, I understand. Well, what do you expect? Anyhow, Conall brought Madame Lefoux along to give it the old once-over. Nothing I could do to stop him."

Angelique looked blank at that and bobbed a quick curtsy, and went off to see to Ivy.

Alexia ruminated over the outfit the maid had selected for her to wear. And then, because she really could not count on her own sense of style to do any better, put it on.

Her husband came in just as she was struggling to fasten the b.u.t.tons up the back of the bodice.

"Oh, good, there you are. Do this up for me, would you, please?"

Entirely ignoring her command, Lord Maccon strode over to her in three quick steps and buried his face in the side of her neck.

Lady Maccon emitted an exasperated sigh but at the same time swiveled around to wrap her arms about his neck.

"Well, that is very helpful, darling. You do realize we are due for-"

He kissed her.

When breathing eventually became a necessity, he said, "Well, wife, been wanting to do that the entire carriage ride here." He moved his large hands down to her posterior and hoisted her against his big, firm body.

"And here I thought you were thinking about politics most of the ride; you sported such a terrible frown," replied his wife with a grin.

"Well, that too. I can can do two things at once. For example, right now I am talking to you and also devising a means by which to extract you from this gown." do two things at once. For example, right now I am talking to you and also devising a means by which to extract you from this gown."

"Husband, you cannot take it off of me. I just put it on."

He seemed disinclined to agree with that statement, instead putting a concerted effort into undoing all her careful work and shoving the dress aside.

"Did you really like the parasol I gave you?" he asked, sweetly hesitant, drifting his fingertips up over her now-bare shoulders and upper back.

"Oh, Conall, such a lovely gift, with magnetic disruption field generator, poison darts, and everything. So very thoughtful. I was delighted to find I had not lost it during the fall."

The fingers stopped drifting abruptly. "Fall? What fall?"

Lady Maccon knew that burgeoning roar well. She squirmed against him in an effort to distract him. "Uh," she hedged.

Lord Maccon pushed her slightly away, holding her by the shoulders.

She patted him as best she could on the chest. "Oh, it was nothing, dear-simply a little tumble."

"Little tumble! Little tumble off of what, wife?"

Alexia looked down and away and tried to mumble. Since she had a naturally a.s.sertive voice, this did not work at all well. "A dirigible."

"A dirigible." Lord Maccon's tone was hard and flat. "And did that dirigible happen to be floating in the air at the time?"

"Umm, well, possibly, not quite air... more in the region of, well, aether..."

A hard glare.

Alexia hung her head and peeked at him through her eyelashes.

Lord Maccon steered his wife, as though she were an unwieldy rowboat, backward toward the bed and forced her to sit down upon it. Then he flopped down next to her.

"Start at the beginning."

"You mean the evening I woke up to find you had taken yourself off to Scotland without even speaking to me about it?"

Lord Maccon sighed. "It was a serious family matter."

"And what am I, a nodding acquaintance?"

Conall actually had the grace to look slightly shamefaced at that. "You must allow me some little time to get used to having a wife."

"You mean you did not acclimatize to it the last time you were wed?"

He frowned at her. "That was a long time ago." was a long time ago."

"I certainly hope so."

"Before I changed. And it was a matter of duty. In those days, one simply didna turn werewolf without leaving an heir behind. I was to be laird; I could not possibly become supernatural without first ensuring the prosperity of the clan."

Alexia was not inclined to let him off lightly for keeping her in the dark on this matter, even if she perfectly understood his reasons. "I gathered as much by the fact that you seem to have produced a child. What I question is the fact that, for some reason, you elected not to tell me you still had living descendants."

Lord Maccon snorted, grabbing his wife's hand and caressing her wrist with his callused thumbs. "You met Sidheag. Would you want to claim her as a relation?"

Alexia sighed and leaned against his broad shoulder. "She seems like a fine, upstanding woman."

"What she is is an impossible grouch."

Lady Maccon smiled into her husband's shoulder. "Well, there can be no doubt as to which side of the family she gets that from." She switched tactics. "Are you going to tell me anything substantial about this previous family of yours? Who was your wife? How many children did you have? Am I likely to encounter any other Maccons of import scattered about?" She stood, continuing about her preparations for dinner, trying not to show how much she cared about his answers. This was one aspect of being married to an immortal she had not figured into her equation. Of course, she knew he had taken previous lovers; at two centuries, she would be concerned if he had not, and she had almost nightly reason to be grateful for his experience. But previous wives? This she had not considered.

He lay back on the bed, folding his arms behind his head, looking at her out of predatory eyes. There was no denying it-impossible man her husband, but also a terribly s.e.xy beast.

"Are you you going to tell me about falling off the dirigible?" he countered. going to tell me about falling off the dirigible?" he countered.

Alexia fastened earrings to her ears. "Are you you going to tell going to tell me me why you hightailed it off to Scotland without your valet, leaving me to deal with Major Channing at the supper table, Ivy hat shopping, and half of London still recovering from a severe bout of humanization? Not to mention the fact that I had to travel the length of England why you hightailed it off to Scotland without your valet, leaving me to deal with Major Channing at the supper table, Ivy hat shopping, and half of London still recovering from a severe bout of humanization? Not to mention the fact that I had to travel the length of England all by myself. all by myself."

They heard Miss Hisselpenny squealing in the hallway and then a chatter of other voices, Felicity perhaps, and Tunstell.

Lord Maccon, still lounging poetically upon the bed, sniffed.

"Very well, travel the length of England accompanied by Ivy and my sister, which is very possibly worse-and still your fault."

The earl rose, came over, and b.u.t.toned up the back of her dress. Alexia was only mildly disappointed. They were running late for dinner, and she was starving.

"Why are you here, wife?" he asked bluntly.

Lady Maccon leaned back, exasperated. They were getting nowhere with this conversation. "Conall, answer me this: have you been able to change since we arrived at Kingair?"

Lord Maccon frowned. "I had not thought to try."

She gave him an aggrieved look via the mirror, and he let go of her and stepped back. She watched him, his busy hands stilled. Nothing happened.

He shook his head and came back. "Not possible. It feels a little as though I am in contact with you and trying for my wolf form. Not difficult, or even elusive, simply unavailable. That part of me, the werewolf part, has vanished."

She turned to him. "I came because I am muhjah, and this changelessness is connected to the Kingair Pack. I saw you sneak away and talk to the Beta. None of this pack has been able to shift in months, have they? For how long exactly has this been going on? Since boarding the Spanker Spanker and traveling home? Or before? Where did they find the weapon? India? Egypt? Or is it a plague they have brought back? What happened to them overseas?" and traveling home? Or before? Where did they find the weapon? India? Egypt? Or is it a plague they have brought back? What happened to them overseas?"

Lord Maccon looked at his wife in the looking gla.s.s, his big hands on her shoulders. "They willna tell me. I am no longer Alpha here. They owe me no explanation."

"But you are BUR's chief sundowner."

"This is Scotland; BUR's authority is weak here. Besides, these people were my pack for generations. I may have no wish to lead them anymore, but I do not want to kill any of them either. They know that. I simply want to know what is happening here."

"You and I both, my love," replied his wife. "You don't mind if I wish to question your brethren on the matter?"

"I dinna see how you will make over any better than I." Conall was doubtful. "They do not know you are muhjah, and you'd be wise to keep it that way. Queen Victoria isna so loved in this part of the world."

"I'll be discreet." Her husband's eyebrows reached for the sky at that. "Very well, as discreet as possible for me."

"It canna hurt," he said, and then thought better of it. This was Alexia, after all. "So long as you refrain from using that parasol."

His lady wife grinned maliciously. "I shall be direct, but not that direct."

"Why do I doubt you? Well, watch out for Dubh; he can be difficult."

"Not up to Professor Lyall's caliber as a Beta, shall we say?"

"Um, that's not for me to say. Dubh was never my Beta, not even my Gamma."

That was was interesting news. "But this Niall, the one who was killed in battle over seas, he wasn't your Beta either?" interesting news. "But this Niall, the one who was killed in battle over seas, he wasn't your Beta either?"

"Na. Mine died," he replied shortly, in a tone of voice that said he did not want to discuss the matter further. "Your turn. This dirigible fall, wife?"

Alexia stood, finished with her ablutions. "Someone else is on the scent: a spy of some kind or some other agent, a member of the Hypocras Club, perhaps. While Madame Lefoux and I were strolling the observation deck, someone tried to push us over the side. I fell and Madame Lefoux fought off whomever it was. I managed to stay my fall and climbed to safety. It was nothing, really, except that I nearly lost the parasol. And I am no longer partial to dirigible travel."

"I should think not. Well, wife, try not to get yourself killed for at least a few days?"

"Are you going to tell me the real reason you came back to Scotland? Do not think you have thrown me off the scent so easily."

"I never doubted you, my sweet demure little Alexia."

Lady Maccon gave him her best, most fierce, battle-ax expression, and they went down to dinner.