Imprudence by Gail Carriger

Author:Gail Carriger
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fiction / Science Fiction / Steampunk, Fiction / Fantasy / Historical, Fiction / Fantasy / Paranormal, Fiction / Romance / Fantasy, Fiction / Fantasy / Contemporary, Fiction / Fantasy / Urban
Publisher: Orbit
Published: 2016-07-19T07:00:00+00:00

Dinner went off without incident. Paw behaved himself. More to the point, so did Mother. Primrose and Tasherit ignored one another. Quesnel was as engaging as ever, and Percy as lacklustre. After pudding, everyone trooped to the forecastle for cigars and drinks – brandy for the gentlemen, sherry for the ladies. The moon was a bulbous yellow orb over a fairy-tale city below.

Tasherit and Paw were obviously unnerved at basking in full moonlight, no curse shining down alongside.

“I forgot how very beautiful she is.” Tasherit was moved to something approaching sentiment.

“We could buy a silver cutlery set now, couldn’t we, wife?” Paw sounded as though Lady Maccon had done nothing their whole marriage but lament the fact that they must use brass at the dinner table.

Rue’s mother made a funny face. Rue was in no doubt that Alexia Maccon had never given cutlery a second thought.

Rue went over and touched first her father and then her werecat friend with a naked hand to the cheek. Nothing happened. The numbness was still on her. There came no indication of gaining supernatural abilities with her touch. No strength. No shift. No nothing.

“Odd,” she pronounced. “Paw, are you normal strength now?”

Lady Maccon laughed. “Infant, look at him. He’s still built like a Clydesdale.”

“Thank you, wife.”

Rue smiled. “You know what I mean. Tasherit, what about you?”

“Normal. Slow healing and all else that goes with mortality.” Tasherit examined her snifter with pursed lips. “Susceptible to alcohol, too, I suppose. What bliss is that.” She drained the last of her brandy. She didn’t hold with sherry. She’d been offered a cigar as well, since brandy was already quite manly, but declined, muttering something about hookahs being preferable.

Tasherit twirled the empty glass. “To tell the truth, younglings” – Rue supposed there was a good chance even Paw was younger than Tasherit – “it makes me feel odd and exposed.” She shivered, although the evening was warm. “I’m for bed. I shall enjoy the novel experience of sleeping at night.”

Rue finished her sherry. “Me too.” She gave Quesnel a slight smile.

He lowered his eyelids in a blatant lure. Pansy eyes glittering from behind fair lashes.

She wanted to nibble the back of his neck as she passed.

Lady Maccon gave Rue a dour look as she made her way to the stairs.

“Leave it, wife,” she heard Paw say.

Despite whatever it was her mother thought was happening, Rue entered the captain’s quarters alone. She changed into a tight red velvet top, beaded about the neck, and a narrow satin skirt. Remembering Quesnel’s reaction back in India, she put a bit of kohl about her eyes and rouged her cheeks and lips. With her abundant curves, Rue looked like a ladybug and felt silly. But Quesnel had liked it so much last time. She had this notion that if she dressed for him now, he might wear his leather workman’s apron and nothing else for her later. Privately, of course. She was rather too intrigued by the idea of a smudged and sweaty Quesnel wearing leather on the front and nothing at all over his back.

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