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Prudence (The Custard Protocol 1.) 3 csillagozás
When Prudence Alessandra Maccon Akeldama (Rue to her friends) is given an unexpected dirigible, she does what any sensible female would under similar circumstances – names it the Spotted Crumpet and floats to India in pursuit of the perfect cup of tea. But India has more than just tea on offer. Rue stumbles upon a plot involving local dissidents, a kidnapped brigadier's wife, and some awfully familiar Scottish werewolves. Faced with a dire crisis and an embarrassing lack of bloomers, what else is a young lady of good breeding to do but turn metanatural and find out everyone's secrets, even thousand-year-old fuzzy ones?
Eredeti megjelenés éve: 2015
Szereplők népszerűség szerint
Kicsit nehéz volt visszarázódni a történetbe, de nem is igazán a történet folyásába (mgszoktam, h lassú) vagy azt látni, h a gyerekek felnőttek, inkább a nyelvezetbe. Már megszoktam a Napernyő protektorátus olvasásánál, h a tea mindennél fontosabb és mindenre gyógyír, itt se volt másként. Azért egy tea expedíció sok meglepetést rejthet főleg annak aki Rue-val és kis csapatával Indiába tart, meglepő felfedezéseket találhat.
Összességében nem volt rossz, de valami mégse volt a helyén, ellenben a kíváncsiságom győz és megnézem hogyan alakul Rue és a többiek sorsa.
Lord Maccon had once been a strong enough werewolf to stand under direct sun, but he was getting weaker, and his wife’s touch was now vital during daylight. He still looked as big and as strong as he had when Rue was a child, but he slept each night touching Lady Maccon, mortal, shaved each morning, and had aged ten years to Rue’s twenty as a result. His dark brown hair was salted with grey but it was worth it. His wife’s touch was the only medicine that staved off the Alpha’s curse of age-born madness. As far as Conall Maccon was concerned, ageing slowly was a worthwhile price to pay.
“If you’re certain you won’t take tea, shall we get on to business right away? I’ve called you here to introduce you to the Honourable Primrose Tunstell – she will have charge of the daily staff. She is, in effect, my clerk meets butler meets housekeeper meets batman.”
“My goodness,” muttered Percy. “How the mighty have fallen.”
“She has resources and friends. That’s the best one can ask for in life. And I gave her a parasol.”
“Oh, indeed, was it the parasol?”
“No, simply a parasol. She’s not ready for the parasol… yet. I’m taking this journey as a test of worthiness.”
“You think she will be ready when she returns?” Conall drew back to look down into her face.
Alexia’s brown eyes were thoughtful. “I think this will temper her. Travel is very broadening for the mind, don’t you find? Our daughter is a sharp edge but of the kind that could grow dull, stuck here in London.”
“I hate it when you are reasonable, wife.”
“I know, but you really ought to be accustomed to it by now.”
“Never. It’s one of your many charms.”
It was a good thing to have Mother’s approbation, for even Dama hadn’t the persuasive powers to convince the Alpha of the London Pack that his daughter traipsing around the empire was a good idea. Lord Maccon might be firmly wrapped around Rue’s little finger, but when her safety was at stake he could be militant. It would take Mother’s cajoling to bring him on board. Rue had never inquired too closely into her mother’s skills in this arena. Suffice to say that, on those occasions when Lord and Lady Maccon argued most virulently, a pattern inevitably emerged. They disappeared to their private quarters in disagreement and re-appeared in accord, generally to Mother’s way of thinking. Rue’s mother was fond of saying, “I am always right. Sometimes, it simply takes him a little time, flat on his back, to realise this.”
“But what about all the bits that haven’t been written about? Subjects untapped, discoveries waiting to be made. Percy, you could become the world’s expert on the…” Rue flailed, grappling, and then said triumphantly, “Sacred napping practices of the Punjabi wild cabbage.”
“Do cabbages have napping practices?”
“They might. And how would you know if you didn’t join me?”
Quesnel rolled his eyes. “Lord save us all from beautiful young ladies too accustomed to the supernatural for good sense. You are pigeons in front of a hawk.”
“Poppycock,” said Rue. “I’m not beautiful.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Prim at the same time. “Pigeons have no natural predator except Rue.”
Rue added, “And hopefully Footnote. And, frankly, I resent being compared to a pigeon. Nasty dirty chubby creatures. Are you saying I’m nasty, dirty, and chubby?”
Quesnel smiled. “Nope, I’m saying you are delicious and fluffy and squawk all the time. Perhaps I should call you ma petite pigeonneau.”
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