Free The Parasol Protectorate Boxed Set by Gail Carriger Page B

flawless. Alexia
should
be entirely allowed to like such a man. His lip curled once more at the very idea. He shook himself and went on to the disturbing,
in quite a different manner, idea of Miss Alexia Tarabotti and Countess Nadasdy in the same room together.
    He hustled Alexia over to a small couch and sat them both, with a crackle, on top of the airship transit maps scattered across
it.
    â€œStart from the beginning,” he instructed.
    Miss Tarabotti commenced with Felicity reading aloud the newspaper, went on to the walk with Ivy and the meeting with Miss
Dair, and ended with Lord Akeldama’s perspective on the situation. “You know,” she added when she felt the earl tense at the
vampire’s name, “he was the one who suggested I see you.”
    â€œWhat!”
    â€œI must know as much as possible about this situation if I am to go into a hive alone. Most supernatural battles are over
information. If Countess Nadasdy wants something from me, it is far better if I know what it is and whether I am capable of
providing it.”
    Lord Maccon stood, slightly panicked, and said exactly the wrong thing. “I forbid you to go!” He had no idea what it was about
this particular woman that made him lose all sense of verbal decorum. But there it was: the unfortunate words were out.
    Miss Tarabotti stood as well, instantaneously angry, her chest heaving in agitation. “You have no right!”
    He circled her wrists with an iron grip. “I am BUR’s chief sundowner, I’ll have you know. Preternaturals fall under my jurisdiction.”
    â€œBut we are allowed the same degree of freedom as members of the supernatural set, are we not? Full societal integration,
among other things. The countess has asked me to attend her for one evening, nothing more.”
    â€œAlexia!” Lord Maccon groaned his frustration.
    Miss Tarabotti realized that the earl’s use of her given name indicated a certain degree of irritation on his part.
    The werewolf took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It did not work, because he was too close to Alexia. Vampires smelled
of stale blood and family lines. His fellow werewolves smelled of fur and wet nights. And humans? Even after all this time
of trapping himself away at full moon, the hunt forbidden, humans smelled like food. But Alexia’s scent was something else,
something… not meat. She smelled warm and spicy sweet, like some old-fashioned Italian pastry his body could no longer process
but whose taste he remembered and craved.
    He leaned into her.
    Miss Tarabotti characteristically swatted him. “Lord Maccon! You forget yourself!”
    Which was, Lord Maccon thought, exactly the problem. He let go of her wrists and felt the werewolf return: that strength and
heightened senses a partial death had given him all those decades ago. “The hive will not trust you, Miss Tarabotti. You must
understand: They believe you to be their natural enemy. Do you keep abreast of the latest scientific discoveries?” He rummaged
about on his desk and produced a small weekly news pamphlet. The lead article was titled the counterbalance theorem as applied
to horticultural pursuits.
    Alexia blinked at it, not comprehending. She turned the paper over:
published by Hypocras Press.
That did not help either. She knew of the counterbalance theorem, of course. In fact, she found the tenets, in principle,
rather appealing.
    She said, “Counterbalance is the scientific idea that any given force has an innate opposite. For example, every naturally
occurring poison has a naturally occurring antidote—usually located in proximity. Much in the way that the juice of crushed
nettle leaves applied to the skin relieves the nettle sting. What has this to do with me?”
    â€œWell, vampires believe that preternaturals are their counterbalance. That it is your elemental purpose to neutralize them.”
    Now it was Miss Tarabotti’s turn to snort.