Changeless (The Parasol Protectorate)
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Alexia Maccon, the Lady Woolsey, awakens in the wee hours of the mid-afternoon to find her husband, who should be decently asleep like any normal werewolf, yelling at the top of his lungs. Then he disappears; leaving her to deal with a regiment of supernatural soldiers encamped on her doorstep, a plethora of exorcised ghosts, and an angry Queen Victoria.
But Alexia is armed with her trusty parasol, the latest fashions, and an arsenal of biting civility. So even when her investigations take her to Scotland, the backwater of ugly waistcoats, she is prepared: upending werewolf pack dynamics as only the soulless can. She might even find time to track down her wayward husband, if she feels like it.
For more from Gail Carriger, check out:
The Custard Protocol
Finishing School (YA)
Etiquette & Espionage
Curtsies & Conspiracies
Waistcoats & Weaponry
Manners & Mutiny
called codpieces? Whatever, they were saucy! In the mean time, I can hook you up with… um… how do you feel about Snoop Dogg? *giggles* Alexia: We are back to this language barrier, I’m afraid. Is it because you are American, or do you ordinarily slip into a foreign tongue without warning? Jane: Slipping the foreign tongue! I get it! You’re so crazy! Oh, and that parasol rocks. Where can I get one? Alexia: You’re a very forthright young woman, aren’t you, Miss True? Yes, well, I believe I will
“Exactly,” crowed Evylin, “where will I find another pair of eyebrows like that? Crushed, I tell you, Alexia. I am absolutely crushed. And it’s all your fault.” Evylin, it must be noted, did not actually look nearly so bothered as one rightly ought over the loss of a fiancé, especially one reputed to possess such heights of eyebrow superiority. She stuffed the eggs into her mouth and chewed methodically. She had taken it into her head recently that chewing every bite of food twenty times over
easily. The claviger gave a loud groan and collapsed. Alexia gave the blond blackguard a glare of wrath and bent to check on the fallen redhead. His eyes were closed, but he appeared to be breathing. She stood and said calmly, “I would stop this now, if I were you, Mr. Channing.” She dropped the “major” out of contempt. “I should say not,” said the man, unbuttoning his uniform and stripping off his white gloves. “Now you both need discipline.” In the next second, he began to change. In polite
course, and not words that she was familiar with, naturally, but she was in no doubt as to their profane nature. Madame Lefoux appeared to be experiencing some form of inconvenience. When she finally attained the room, Alexia came face-to-face, or as it were, face-to-bottom, with yet another good reason for the lady inventor to don trousers. Madame Lefoux was on her back, half underneath the apparatus, only her legs and backside visible. Had she been in skirts, it would have been a most
pleasure, I’m sure,” replied Felicity. “My sister is a woman of mean understanding,” explained Lady Maccon apologetically. “And what are you?” asked Sidheag. “Oh, I am simply mean.” “And here I was, thinking you were the sister with the understanding.” “Not just yet. Give me time.” They turned around and headed back toward the castle. Lord Maccon moved to draw his wife back slightly so they could converse privately. “You believe one of the artifacts to be a humanization weapon?” She