Rip felt tired. He did not pay much attention to the darkened streets the cab wandered through.

They dropped off Chance first. Rip watched him trudge up to the front door of a building’s canopied entrance. A doorman dressed in livery tipped his top hat and pulled open a heavy glass-paneled door. Chance acknowledged him and walked on in.

“That’s a nice place.”

Blair said, “Yes, Bobby’s done quite well for himself. He takes his earnings from the society and diligently provides for his family. They moved into that flat a couple years ago. This is a quasi-fashionable district, one in which the newly wealthy often move to before they can afford a place of their own.”

“A family man is always to be respected,” Bixby added from across the seat.

“I take it you’re not one?”

“Indeed, Sergeant. My father was a family man, but I’m a bachelor.”

“There’s plenty of eligible women who be delighted to make Lord Bixby’s acquaintance. I’ve offered to introduce him to some, several times.”

“A woman ties a man down. I would not feel proper, leading dangerous missions into the steam vaults and elsewhere, if a missus waited at home for me.”

“Bobby does it.”

“That’s his choice, Lady Brooke. And so far, concern for his family has not compromised his actions on assignment.”

Bixby turned his face to the window, and Rip had the distinct impression that he did not want to discuss marriage prospects any more.

Then to his surprise, Bixby said, “You haven’t settled down yourself, have you Lady Brooke?”

Oh, nice change of topic.

Blair smiled at the riposte and said, “I’ve certainly enjoyed some measure of independence. But if the right man comes along I’d settled down in a heartbeat.”

She smiled at Rip and added, “It’s much more difficult, ironically, for a woman of means to marry within her class. Plenty of social climbers would be willing to have my hand, while those on a higher rung than me have other prospects. Men from families such as mine, with fathers knighted for service to the crown and in need of a wife, are few and far between.”

Rip nodded in understanding and they lapsed into silence for a while, the horse’s hooves clip-clopping on the nighttime street making the only sound.

After a while Bixby said, “How about yourself, Sergeant? You’ve never mentioned a significant other.”

“I’m single. I went into the Army at 18, right out of high school. Dated a girl here and there, but nothing serious. I was too busy for much of a social life, actually.”

Bixby and Blair took a turn smiling in understanding.

The cab stopped at Blair’s townhouse.

Bixby said, “There’s no need to tip the man. I’ll see you both tomorrow at the Venture Society. We’ve got to file a report and decide what to do about those Septic Rats and the little operation they were running. Not to mention, the other concerns with Darhaven we’re dealing with at the moment.”

Blair and Rip exited, saying their goodnights. Blair opened the smaller outer gate with her key. They walked up to the front door of her townhouse by gaslight and she unlocked the front door.

Nancy, who evidently had been dozing on a couch in the front, jumped up all aflutter as they walked inside.

She practically ran to the front door and gasped at the blood on Blair’s clothes.

“Oh, dear! You’ve been shot again, haven’t you? How many times have I told you to avoid those bullets? They’ll be the death of you yet, dear, I don’t care how enhanced you are!”

Then her eyes drifted over to Rip and she let out a little yelp.

“Heavens preserve us! You’ve been shot, too!”

“I, uh . . . yeah. I think I’ve got a bullet stuck in my bone up here.”

Rip pointed at his upper arm and flexed his fingers in fist. He could definitely feel something lodged in his arm.

“Sit down, sit down! I’ll go fetch my physicker’s bag.”

They moved to take a seat on the same couch recently vacated by Nancy as she ran off into another room.

Blair smiled and said, “She’s more worried about your wound than mine.”

“Well, that’s not right. You’ve got two.”

“I’ve survived worse.”

“Do they heal fast or something?”

“Yes. By morning, you won’t have a mark on you.”

“That’s nice, I gotta admit,” Rip said, thinking about his old knife wound that left a permanent scar on his side. “The US Army would dearly love to have this luminiferous aether for the troops.”

He thought about it for a moment and said, “Does your military use it to enhance soldiers?”

“Yes. But mostly for the officers.”

“That seems . . . elitist. What about the poor guys on the front lines? Their survival rate would increase if they were enhanced.”

She shrugged and said, “Enhancement is an expensive and somewhat lengthy prospect. If all the frontline troops were elites, both sides would simply resort to shelling the other, in an attempt to blow people up. As it is, small rifle fire is the preferred opening salvo in war. Now, special operations troops are another matter. Those often are enhanced. They’re typically comprised from the rosters of the Venture Society and go out on missions during wartime.”

Nancy bustled back into the room, carrying a black bag with a white circle and red cross on it.

She plunked it down on the coffee table and said, “Right, then! Off with your shirt, so I can take that bullet out.”

Blair said, “Nancy, just have him roll up his sleeve.”

“Hush, you. Come along, Mr. Coulter. Take that shirt off and let’s have a look.”

Smiling in indulgence to the insistent maid, Rip pulled his jacket off and unbuttoned his shirt. Both women said not a word, but drank in his heavily muscled chest.

He decided now was not the time to mention his nickname in Basic was “Ripped.”

Blair tore her eyes away and said, “Nancy, his wound.”

“Oh! Right, right. It so happens I have enhanced physicker’s equipment just for this type of situation, Mr. Coulter. Now, hold still. This might hurt a bit.”

She took out a pair of medical scissors that held the same metallic gleam as Rip’s enhanced wrench and deftly sliced open a nick in his bicep where the bullet entered. Then she took out a large set of tweezers with circled handles, and thrust them inside the wound, digging around.

“I’ve taken several bullets out of milady. We have a small collection on display in the . . . Got it!”

Rip, who had been grimacing through it all, sighed in relief. Nancy pulled out the .38 caliber chunk of lead, which had flattened out into a small mushroom on impact with his flesh and bone. She plunked it down on a tray, and grabbed a bandage and cotton gauze from her bag.

Slowly and carefully she wrapped the gauze around the bandage and his arm.

“No sterilization?”

Both women glanced up from studying his arms and torso with a questioning glance.

Blair said, “What do you mean?”

“Well, like, alcohol or something. To kill the germs.”

“Ah! I did read something about that in the papers,” Nancy said. “The boffins call them ‘microorganisms.’ They’re creatures far too small to see with the naked eye. The boffins study them through ‘microscopes.’”

Nancy seemed rather pleased with her knowledge.

Blair raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

Rip tried to recall when germs were discovered in his world. Certainly, Louis Pasteur knew something about it, but they had not heard of pasteurization, either, as evidenced by the raw milk he was served at the pub.

“You shan’t need to worry about infections, Sergeant, if that’s concerning you,” Blair said. “Enhanced people don’t suffer much from sickness. Poisons can get you, and there are certain . . . creatures you should avoid.” Nancy visibly shuddered at the mention of this danger. Blair ignored her and continued. “Other than that, a simple scratch or bullet wound won’t hurt for you long.”

“Well, that’s certainly good to know,” Rip said, putting his shirt back on and sliding his bandaged arm into a sleeve.

“Nancy, quit ogling the sergeant and dress my wounds, please.”

“I need to show him to his rooms, milady!”

“The man is quite capable of finding his own way. Rip, I will see you in the morning. Let’s have breakfast around eight.”

He nodded and stood, grabbing his jacket. Then he made his way though the house to the courtyard and his guest cottage, leaving the women behind.

With each step, he grew more and more tired. When he got to the bedroom, he went down without undressing and immediately fell asleep.