Read Online Waistcoats & Weaponry by Gail Carriger - Free Book Online

her stridency. “I know the odds.”
    “And you’ll wager your whole life on them? That’s idiotic!” She switched tactics, forcing her voice to mellow. “If, by some puny chance, you did survive a bite, then there’s military service. Even werewolves die in the front lines.”
    “And others come back war heroes and are granted a holding. Can you imagine, I’d be landed gentry?”
    “You could be decades in some foreign land!”
    “It’s a chance to travel.”
    “That’s a stupid reason to risk werewolf!”
I wouldn’t see you. You’d be gone. You’d leave me behind.
    Soap was clearly startled, perhaps even hurt by her rage. His posture altered, tense in the arms and shoulders.
    Sophronia pressed her eyes with her hand and sensed Soap calm in response to her worried gesture. His slight slouch returned. She couldn’t say that she would miss him, because she was afraid it might work and hold him back. And if this really was his dream? It would be as bad for her to hold him with empty promises as it would be for him to do this for the wrong reason.
    She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Soap, it’s only that I worry.”
    Soap softened and put his hand close to hers where it rested on the coal pile—almost touching. “I know, miss, but it’s my choice in the end. And it’s not like I’d have a long, healthy life as a sootie.”
    “No good options. That’s what I’m afraid of.”
When did Soap get so stubborn?
Sophronia was amazed to find she was shivering.
    Soap dared to move his hand and cover her shaking one. Sophronia found the hard calluses on his palm oddly comforting. They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the clangs and rattles of the boilers. Sophronia calmed, becoming quietly angry at herself for getting so emotional over a friend. A good friend, but only a friend. She extracted her hand from his, gently but firmly.
    Finally Soap said, “I may know where Miss Maccon has gone.”
    Sophronia brightened, more at the switch in topics than the information. “Oh, good. Where?”
    “I think she and Captain Niall have gone to London.”
    “Goodness, why?” Now her excitement was over the information itself.
    “Because the captain is a strong werewolf loner. If Lord Maccon’s got control problems, Miss Maccon is the type to use Niall as a solution. She’ll do whatever she can to hold that pack of hers together.”
    “Why London?”
    “Rumor is, that’s where Lord Maccon was last headed.”
    “A Scottish werewolf in London? That will make the local packs mad.” Sophronia shuddered. She’d seen Lord Vulkasin,Alpha of Woolsey Pack, only once, and he’d terrified her. If Lord Maccon was anything like that, London might not survive their meeting.
    Soap said, “That’s why the dewan works for the queen. Keeps the peace between Alphas.”
    “But for Sidheag to leave with no word to us? No word to the teachers?”
    Soap shrugged. “Bet she’ll try to send word, soon as she can. I’d keep an eye fixed.”
    “On the other hand, could be she doesn’t trust someone here at school. In which case, she might try to reach me at home at that dratted ball of my brother’s.” Sophronia stood, brushing down her trousers. “It’s getting late, I should go to bed.”
    Soap followed the movement of her hands; her legs were plainly visible without formal skirts and petticoats.
    Sophronia stopped, self-conscious.
    Soap looked away, muttered something to himself. Then abruptly he said, “You’ll be dancing with that Felix nobbin, won’t you? At this fool ball of your family’s?”
    “I will.” Sophronia, surprised by the question, temporarily forgot her policy of evading all things romantic around Soap.
    “He’s a snoot-airing toff.”
    “He is.” Sophronia was at a loss to do anything but agree with Soap. She’d never seen him in such a tetchy mood, and they’d already argued once this evening. She didn’t want to push her luck.
    “Dad’s a Pickleman, you recall