The Tea Machine Read Online Free Page B

Sangfroid, “of the IX Imperial Space Corps Marines. Decanus, this is my brother, Professor Hubert Aberly of Her Majesty’s College of Engineering and Physics.”
    Sangfroid stepped forward and gave a curt, military bow.
    “Splendid.” Hubert shook her hand warmly. “Imagine meeting you here, Sangfroid,” he said as he gave Millicent a sly sideways look. She blushed, and Sangfroid felt she was the object of a joke between them. It immediately put her back on the defensive, and she was annoyed to find all this charming distraction had lulled her off guard. She couldn’t afford to relax. Not even for a nanosecond. These peculiar little people may be strange and engaging, but she had to be careful; they could very well be extremely dangerous.
    “Sir. That’s a fine machine you have there.” She indicated the lantern, determined to keep up a friendly facade.
    Hubert smiled. “Oh, yes. A beauty,” he said and patted his lantern lovingly. He was a short man, only an inch or two taller than Millicent. His sandy hair was beginning to recede from his forehead and temples, and he carried too much girth around the middle to be a sportsman. Aside from that, he seemed inordinately jovial, and his eyes, the same caramel colour as Millicent’s, twinkled intelligently from behind tiny wire-rimmed spectacles. His clothing was as strangely quaint as the ladies’. He wore plaid trousers and a worsted wool jacket with handkerchiefs, pencils, and protractors poking out of every pocket. “Just look at the workmanship. It’s a Newton, you know,” Hubert said.
    Sangfroid nodded as if that meant something to her.
    “Let’s set her up, shall we?” Hubert indicated that Sangfroid should accompany him to the front parlour. “Leave the ladies to sort things out here, ’eh?”
    Sangfroid got the impression Hubert couldn’t get away fast enough.
    “But what about this mess?” Sophia said.
    “I told you, I’ll get the brush and clean it up,” Millicent replied curtly.
    “And where exactly is the brush, Millicent?” Sophia’s high whine followed them into the front parlour.
    “Oh please, you don’t even know where we keep the maid.” The door closed on their conversation with a well-oiled click.
    “Good to see you, old chap.” Hubert winked at his little gender joke. “How’s the leg, by the way?” He immediately threw himself into assembling the lantern without waiting for an answer.
    “The leg?” Sangfroid was a little taken aback by the warm familiarity of Hubert’s words. She didn’t know what to make of the wink. Her hand dropped towards her tricky knee. “It’s fine.”
    “Good. While I do this, move those chairs into rows, will you?”
    It took Sangfroid mere minutes to swing the heavy dining chairs into order. “How many ladies are you expecting?” She set out three rows of five chairs apiece.
    “Oh, a veritable flock. We’re expecting a muster of ladies this evening. I’m afraid word of your visit has circulated, Sangfroid. My intended is neither discreet nor discerning in matters of this nature. Sophia needs the limelight. And whether it’s by hosting evenings of pretentious twaddle like this one or indulging in inane tittle-tattle, she will have it.” He fussed about, fixing a white cloth screen in front of the chairs. “That is why Millicent is fuming. She hates the attention. Millicent can’t bear to have her actions audited.”
    “I don’t understand any of this.” Sangfroid frowned. Actions audited? What did that mean? Though her soldier’s gut told her these people were essentially harmless, she was far from happy with the situation. There was too much subtext she couldn’t decipher. Too many currents wriggling away beneath the surface. She had no idea where she was, who they were, or whom they represented. It was time for answers.
    She opened the door to the hallway. Millicent was sweeping the last of the eggshells into a dustpan. She looked heated and dishevelled and muttered