Timeless Read Online Free

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, thought Biffy, before returning both hats to their displays.
    The silver bells attached to the front of the shop tinkled as a new customer entered. Some evenings those bells never seemed to stop. The store was increasingly popular, despite Biffy’s occasional refusal to actually sell hats. He was getting a reputation for being an eccentric. Perhaps not quite so much as the previous owner, but there were ladies who would travel miles in order to have a handsome young werewolf refuse to sell them a hat.
    He looked up to see Madame Lefoux. She carried in with her the slightly putrid scent of London and her own special blend of vanilla and machine oil. She was looking exceptionally well, Biffy thought. Life in the country clearly agreed with her. She was not, perhaps, so dandified in dress and manner as Biffy and his set, but she certainly knew how to make the most of somber blues and grays. He wondered, not for the first time, what she might look like in a proper gown. Biffy couldn’t help it, he was excessively fond of female fashions and could not quite understand why a woman, with so many delicious options, might choose to dress and live as a man.
    “Another satisfied customer, Mr. Biffy?”
    “Mrs. Colindrikal-Bumbcruncher has the taste level of an ill-educated parboiled potato.”
    “Revolting female,” agreed the Frenchwoman amiably, “and her gowns are always so well made. Makes her that much more vexing. Did you know her daughter is engaged to Captain Featherstonehaugh?”
    Biffy raised one eyebrow. “And he’s not the first, I hear.”
    “Why, Mr. Biffy, you talk such scandal.”
    “You wrong me, Madame Lefoux. I never gossip. I observe. And then relay my observations to practically everyone.”
    The inventor smiled, showing her dimples.
    “How may I help you this evening?” Biffy put on his shopboy persona. “A new chapeau, or were you thinking about some other fripperies?”
    “Oh, well, perhaps.” Madame Lefoux’s reply was vague as she looked about her old establishment.
    Biffy tried to imagine it through her eyes. It was much the same. The hats still dangled from long chains so that patrons had to push their way through swaying tendrils, but the secret door was now even more well hidden behind a curtained-off back area, and he had expanded recently, opening up a men’s hats and accessories section.
    The Frenchwoman was drawn into examination of a lovely top hat in midnight blue velvet.
    “That would suit your complexion very well,” commented Biffy when she fingered the turn of the brim.
    “I am sure you are right, but not tonight. I simply came to visit the old place. You have tended it well.”
    Biffy gave a little bow. “I am but a steward to your vision.”
    Madame Lefoux huffed in amusement. “Flatterer.”
    Biffy never knew where he stood with Madame Lefoux. She was so very much outside his experience: an inventor, a scientist, and middle class, with a marked preference for the company of young ladies and an eccentricity of dress that was too restrained to be unstudied. Biffy didn’t like enigmas—they were out of fashion.
    “I have recently come from seeing Lord and Lady Maccon at the theater.”
    Biffy was willing to play along. “Oh, indeed? I thought it was bath night.”
    “Apparently, Lord Akeldama was left to muddle through alone.”
    “Oh, dear.”
    “It occurred to me that we have switched places, you and I.”
    The French
, thought Biffy,
could be very philosophical
. “Come again?”
    “I have become a reluctant drone to vampires and you nest in the bosom of the Maccon home and hearth.”
    “Ah, were you once in that bosom? I had thought you never quite got all the way inside. Not for lack of trying, of course.”
    The Frenchwoman laughed. “Touché.”
    The front door tinkled again.
Busy night for new moon
. Biffy looked up, smile in place, knowing he made a fetching picture. He wore his very best brown suit. True, his cravat was tied more simply than he