Phoenix and Ashes by Mercedes Lackey

these wretched peasants, she
means
. And she knew that Alderscroft’s subconscious would recognize
her tone and the cadence of her speech as well as her words and respond to it
in
spite
of the fact that he knew she was as common as a dustbin. That was
because she
had
the proper accent, and the proper manner, and
everything in his upbringing and training was screaming out to his subconscious
that here was gentry. For one moment she hated Alderscroft, his automatic
response to the proper turn of phrase, his automatic assumption that anyone
born to the strawberry leaves was “one of us” and deserving of
special treatment and protection.
    For
one moment, she hated them all, and felt a powerful sympathy for the socialists
and the Bolsheviks, and it was very tempting to think about throwing a bomb or
two into the Royal Enclosure at Ascot, just to shake them up a bit. Certainly
you could fire a cannon off through there and never hit anyone who would be
missed by society—
    But
then good sense overcame her, and she sighed, and acknowledged that there were
aristocrats who were good stewards, and useful. And as for the rest, she
forgave Alderscroft and his set for being idiots, and went back to paying
attention to the conversation.
    Well,
there was one thing that being born a half-caste in India was good for, and
that was in knowing what
wouldn’t
work with the British
aristocracy. Though she might very much
like
to point out to the old
lion that the Robinson woman had played him like salmon on her line, it would
do no good at all.
    No,
she would simply tell Alderscroft that the woman was heavily shielded and
couldn’t be read—that she certainly had ulterior motives for
wanting that introduction and remind him of the two daughters looking for
husbands—and that Fenyx’s own grandmother would do a
much
better job of keeping an eye on him than any stranger ever could.
    And
then she would go confide her
real
feelings to her husband
Peter—who would certainly, at that point, take them to his
“Twin.” And there was no one that Peter Almsley did not know among
the Elemental Mages inside the peerage. Almsley’s grandmother, who was
herself a powerful Elemental Master, almost certainly knew Reggie’s aunt,
who was another. And when
those
two heard what she had to say…
    Now
Maya smiled for the first time since she began listening to the conversation,
struck by the mental image of a herd of water-buffalo surrounding an injured
calf to protect it from a tigress.
    The
tigress had no notion of what she was about to face.
     
    Alison
was pleased with herself. Despite some setbacks, this trip to London had been
unexpectedly productive. She sat down at the little desk in the sitting room of
their suite to catch up on her correspondence, while the girls unpacked the
day’s purchases.
    “Mama,”
said Carolyn, idly tracing the line of the fringe on the new shawl she had
purchased that morning, “What do you know about the Americans getting
into the war?”
    Alison
looked up from the letter she was writing to Warrick Locke. “The
Americans have no intention of entering the war, child. President Wilson is a
pacifist. If the sinking of the
Lusitania
did not accomplish it,
nothing will. Why?”
    “Well,”
Carolyn persisted, with a small, sly smile playing about her lips,
“It’s just that—you had rather they didn’t,
wouldn’t you?”
    “It
would interfere greatly with my plans, yes,” she said sharply. “And
it would probably interfere with our income as well. Why do you ask?”
    “She
asks because she’s been meeting with that American boy, from the embassy
in the tea room,” Lauralee interrupted, frowning with jealousy at her
sister. “And she doesn’t want to get in trouble over it, so she
wants to make you think she’s been doing it for—”
    “Lauralee—”
Alison held up a warning hand. “First, do
not
frown. Frowns do
not improve your looks, and cause wrinkles. Secondly, let your sister answer
for herself.