A strangled noise left Mrs. Lane’s throat but she maintained her poise. “You are a most unusual woman, Miss Chase.”
Rather the pot calling the kettle but… “Yes.”
Thankfully, Mrs. Lane turned back to her unpacking. “I shall take your suggestion under advisement.”
They worked in silence with Mrs. Lane sorting through her box of horrors as Mary exalted in the rainbow of silken gowns her sisters had selected, far more than Mrs. Lane would be able to wear on such a short trip.
“Here.” Mrs. Lane suddenly appeared by her side and handed her a slim box of polished ash wood. “These are for you.”
Mary hesitated. Lucien often gave her gifts. Gifts of adornment. He did it to be kind, never understanding that she did not want to be dressed up like a doll. Mrs. Lane, however, wasn’t the sort prone to frivolity.
“Me?”
“Of course. Did I not just say?” Mrs. Lane bustled back to her trunk and began rooting about in it once more, dropping a heavy scimitar knife on the dressing table with a thud.
Mary’s fingers were careful as she set the box down and opened it. Nestled in black velvet were four gleaming metal stars. Japanese throwing stars shaped more like stylized suns. Their edges glinted, sharp and wicked.
“Happo shuriken,” she murmured. “How lovely.”
“Do you know how to use them?” Mrs. Lane asked from the depths of her trunk.
“A little. There aren’t very many Japanese gentlemen about, even fewer willing to teach their weaponry.” The GIM’s knowledge was second-hand. My, but they were beautiful.
Mrs. Lane straightened. “I want you to practice every day. Do it in here or your rooms, where no one can see. The walls are as good a target as any.”
That she had little care for the resulting state of said wall had Mary holding back a smile. “Yes, mum.”
Mrs. Lane nodded. “They don’t usually deliver a killing blow, but they’ll slow down your enemy well enough. I’ve a gun and knife for you as well. A good Regulator must be proficient in all forms of combat. As much as I wish that you had received proper training beforehand, there is little use crying over it now. We’ll get you set to rights later.”
“I am not entirely without training.” Although she gathered that her notion of training was not in keeping with Mrs. Lane’s exacting standards.
Mrs. Lane’s expression was proof enough of that. “You’ll do for now. Which is why I let you come along.” She sighed and ran a hand along her hair, her straight nose wrinkling when she encountered her hat. She tugged it off, completely destroying her coiffure.
“If you’d like, mum, I could find a way to incorporate some weapons within your millinery and gowns.”
Mrs. Lane’s pale face lit up with almost girlish glee. “Most excellent idea, Miss Chase.” With an idle flick of the wrist, she tossed her hat to Mary and then proceeded to attack her trunk once more. “Eventually, I’ll have to inform Mr. Lane of our plans. Sooner rather than later, I’m afraid.” Her voice lost its usual confidence, and though her face was hidden behind the lid of the trunk, Mary fancied she was frowning. Then her tone became brisk once more. “At the very least, we have Mr. Talent, which is a boon. He will watch over my husband while I confront the demon.”
Mary was about to answer that she did not know how helpful Talent would be, as he usually pouted like a boy in short pants and then promptly did what he liked, when they heard a commotion coming from the hall. One word in particular cut through the rumble: murder.
“Blast it!” Mrs. Lane grabbed a hip holster from the trunk and strapped it on. The dark glint in her eyes was unnerving as she grabbed her knife. “God help that demon if he has harmed my husband.”
“Bad discussion with the wife, Inspector?”
Winston did not bother acknowledging Talent as he strode down yet another endless corridor on this hulking beast of a ship. Bad discussion? It was the understatement of the year. Instead of getting anywhere with Poppy, she’d made him feel small and dishonorable, which was damned aggravating given that she was in the right; he had acted dishonorably in leaving her without asking for an explanation.
Worse was that, from the moment he’d seen her on the gangplank, his body and his soul had awakened, much like being jolted from a dream. No matter her betrayal, the anger he felt about it, or her