The train seemed even slower going back to Ethinium, if that were possible, but the tension felt lessened, Rip thought.

He knew they were not quite out of the woods yet, though.

“We need to go on and make our way to your father’s office.”

Blair looked at him with questioning eyes.

“But the meeting’s not until tonight. Six o’clock.”

“I know, but that’s standard TV show fare, for the villain to switch times on the meeting.”

Both women stared at him.

He sighed.

“TV shows are . . . like plays, that you watch. On a box, in your home. Uh, before then there were radio shows. That’s like plays you listened to, from a box in your home.”

He noted the looks on their faces and gave up.

“That’s not important. The thing, at some point while writing one of these plays, someone put in the idea of an important meeting, and they had the bad guy move the time or date or location.”

“This meeting is the regularly scheduled board meeting,” Blair said. “It shan’t be moved to another date.”

“If the villain can’t move the meeting, he does something to try and prevent the good guys from attending.”

They locked eyes, both thinking about the attacks on the train.

“Anyway,” Rip continued, “all I’m saying is, we should at least get there early. I wouldn’t doubt it if someone tries to move the location of the meeting, or they start it an hour early, or do something to try and prevent you from showing up and asserting any claims on your father’s controlling shares.”

She nodded then.

“Too true,” Nancy said. “Makes sense some dastardly deed as that might occur.”

At the train station, Rip bought some stationery and envelopes. He dashed off three quick letters, one to Chance, one to Twig, and one to the Veraz sisters.

The sisters stayed in a rented room at the RVS headquarters. He wondered if they would have difficulty finding lodging in the city, if the landlord knew of their true nature.

Or perhaps, the society wished to help them stay incognito and offered them a place within their walls?

Or, did somebody demand they should remain on the premises? He found it quite plausible that higher-ups would remain leery of having vampires roam about the city unescorted, although he personally had noted their remarkable restraint, even when desperately needing to feed.

Setting those thoughts aside, he wrote identical letters, explaining they would not be at Doctors’ Commons today, that they had a rushed marriage to try and save Blair’s family business, and that he hoped to see them all tomorrow.

He walked up to a counter marked for the Umbrian Post next to the ticket window, and paid for stamps on all three envelopes. He felt assured the letters would make their way through the byzantine streets to the proper destination in an hour or so.

Ethinium mail runs were remarkably regular. On weekdays the post delivered six times a day, thrice in the morning and again three times in the afternoon.

The clerk took the envelopes, noted the stamps and nodded. He gave them each a postmark, slamming home a heavy inked contraption. Then he placed them in a hinged cylinder and dropped it in a glass tube running down the wall into the floor.

Rip heard the sound of air rushing as the tube slipped out of sight.

“Wow, vacuum tubes. That’s nice.”

“Quite right,” the clerk said. “This goes straight to the main post office. They’ll be sorted and out for delivery in a wee tick.”

Rip nodded and left, feeling like he had peeked behind the curtain, in a way. Vacuum tubes helped explain how they could shuttle mail around the city so quickly.

When he found Blair and Nancy, they were parting ways, a cabbie waiting with the door open.

“Shall I have supper waiting for you two?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know when we’re getting home, Nancy.”

Her old nanny looked at Rip as he walked up, her face filled with worry and uncertainty.

“Will it always be like this from now on? Will I have two of you to worry about?”

Blair smiled, and Rip noted it was a genuine one. She still looked tired, but love radiated from her eyes toward the older woman.

She hugged Nancy and said, “Yes. There are two of us now.”

“And maybe three soon? I do so wish to take care of a baby, once more.”

“We just got married a couple hours ago, Nancy. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Now get in the cab and go home. We’ll get there when we get there.”

She nodded and climbed in. The driver closed the door tipped his hat and tapped the horse with a pole.

Nancy stuck her head out the window as they pulled into traffic.

“Thank you so much for letting me go on one of your adventures, dear!”

They waved goodbye to her.

“What now?” Blair said.

“Let’s grab something to eat and make our way to the office.”

“What? Stop for lunch? That might take an hour or more, Ripley. By the time we—”

“I was thinking street food.”

“Street food? I’ve never . . . Oh, that can’t be good for you.”

He led to her a man with a cart, noting the coals underneath keeping it warm.

“Two, please.”

The man nodded and exchanged two long sausages wrapped in paper for a couple coins.

“Got any bread to go with it?”

The man nodded again and handed over a couple slices.

Rip handed one to Blair and she stood there frowning at it while he bit into his.

“Mm, this is great. Try it.”

Reluctantly, she took a tiny nibble. Her eyebrows shot up.

“It’s not bad, but I would prefer a fork and a plate. You know, how civilized people eat.”

“You don’t need that on the street. You grab it and eat on the go. This is food made for walking.”

The man at the cart nodded vigorously.

Rip bent closer to him and said, “You should have your baker make a longer bun, one that covers the entire length, instead of just using slices of bread. Then people can hold it easily in one hand. Where I come from, we call those ‘hot dogs.’”

The man’s eyebrows rose in astonishment, as if hearing a revelation.

Rip turned and downed the rest of his meal as they walked, looking for another cabbie.

They finally made their way out to Brooke & Company’s main office shortly after 3:00.

They walked in unnoticed, at first. Then one of the many company secretaries noticed them. He practically ran to greet them.

“Lady Brooke! What a surprise! How may we help you?”

She started to correct him on her name, then held her tongue.

Instead, she said, “Is the board meeting still planned for today at 6:00?”

“Yes, Lady Brooke.”

“And is it still to be held in the boardroom?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good. Sir Coulter and I shall retire to the boardroom, then. Will you inform us if there are any changes?”

“Absolutely!”

“Good. I do apologize, but what was your name?”

“Drebbels, milady.”

“Drebbels. Ah, yes. My father spoke highly of you.”

The man’s eyes widened.

“Did he?”

“Oh, yes. The Scottsdale Affair? You were the one who brought attention to Mr. McDougal in regards to the missing funds, were you not?”

“Why, yes, milady. That was indeed me. I’m surprised you’ve heard of it, though.”

“My father always appreciated honest employees. Do this favor for us now, Mr. Drebbels. We do not wish to be disturbed while we wait, unless there is a change of venue or in the time. Would you please keep our presence here . . . under your hat? It’s been very stressful lately, what with the murder of my father and whatnot. We do not wish to be disturbed.”

“Absolutely. You can count on my utmost discretion. But . . .” He paused, frowning. “If I may ask, Lady Brook, why you are here so early?”

She smiled and said, “We just . . . don’t wish to miss this particular meeting.”