They both woke up refreshed in the morning, but made it to breakfast late.

Nancy worried about them while waiting. Had it been just the mistress, she would have knocked on the door and inquired after her health. But now she knew Rip was in there, in the bedroom. So, she sat down at the breakfast table and hoped they would be out before the food grew cold.

About the time she was thinking of starting over on the food and making something fresh, they both walked into the breakfast nook looking fresh and relaxed.

“Good morning, Nancy! What have you made us today? Bacon? I love bacon! Rip, she makes the most excellent bacon.”

Nancy’s eyes narrowed.

“You never compliment my cooking, dear.”

“I don’t? I’m so sorry, Nancy. Your skills in the kitchen are divine!”

Blair gave the woman a little squeeze hug, shocking Nancy almost as much as her chipper morning mood.

She sat and scooted her chair closer to Rip’s and picked up a slice of bacon off the plate.

“Try this,” she said, feeding it to him. He chewed on it and they smiled at one another.

Nancy leaned back in her chair and said, “Oh! I know what this is. This is love. You two love each other, don’t you?”

They smiled across the table at her.

“Nancy, be a dear and put on a fresh pot of tea.”

“Oh! Right away. I almost forgot myself, you two were so long in getting here.”

She bustled off to the kitchen.

Blair leaned over and kissed him when she left the room.

Rip said, “Sorry, I’ve got bacon breath.”

“I love bacon.”

They left the house half an hour later, leaving Nancy to clean up. She smiled, too, when they left, watching them through a window as they walked to the gate.

“Ah, true love! She has found it. That’s a tad unusual this day and age, especially amongst the gentry!”

Rip and Blair walked side by side down the sidewalk. They avoided holding hands in public, since displays of affection were looked down upon in polite society. But it seemed obvious to anyone passing by that they held one another’s hearts.

They soon caught a cab and settled in for the ride to Doctors’ Commons.

Rip said, “Should we head over to the company headquarters? I feel responsible, even though I haven’t the slightest idea how to actually run a company.”

“The company will take care of itself. Father has good people in charge, notwithstanding that dreadful Mr. Threadgill. No, we need to check in at RVS. It’s been too long since we’ve been there, and the others will be expecting us.”

The cab dropped them off at the entrance to Doctors’ Commons. They passed through the short line to the gardens and walked along the wide path toward the large building at the end.

To their left the royal offices waited, guards in red livery with tall black hats diligently patrolling the entrance. To their right, the Lyceum’s buildings remained less guarded, although several Ethinium policemen wandered around keeping an eye on things.

As they approached the RVS building, Rip noted something different about the roof. Three large gun installations had been added, a nod to the dangers of aerial assault after the last black airship attack on Doctors’ Commons.

“That’s nice,” he said, pointing it out to Blair. “But I’m not sure how well nine-fifties will do against enhanced airships.”

“It’s better than nothing, which is what we had before.”

Inside, a receptionist greeted them and gave them a room number for their team to meet. She promised she would direct the others there, upon arrival.

Just a few minutes after finding the room, the Verez sisters walked in. Both wore glum expressions on their faces.

Rip looked between them and Blair, noting that Blair gave them a slightly superior smile, as if winning a recent victory.

A long silence drew out as the women stared at one another.

He said, “Now, look. I hope we can all keep getting along together. We’ve all helped one another out in the field numerous times. Blair and I being married shouldn’t change things in our professional relationships. Right?”

“Oh, of course not Ripley,” Liza drawled in her slight Hungarian accent.

“We are so happy for you both,” Hilda said, with happiness evident in neither her tone nor face.

Twig and Chance walked in about then, tipping imaginary hats to all present.

“Congrats to the Mister and Missus,” Chance said. He smiled and seemed genuinely happy for them, unlike the vampires.

Twig said, “Sorry for your loss, Lady Brooke. Uh, Coulter.”

The men sat down and Rip stood to address the group.

“I filed the paperwork, and we are officially at team. We’re a bit unusual at six, although it’s not unheard of.”

“People don’t like to split the earnings too much,” Chance said with a shrug.

Twig smiled and said, “That just means we have to take on higher paying missions.”

“Speaking of that,” Rip said, “we need to discuss what our first mission will entail.”

Twig cleared his throat and said, “I took the liberty of looking into the Luddites a bit during our time off, on account of they’ve been such a bother to Lord Brooke and his family.”

Blair nodded and said, “That’s right. When I introduced him to Ripley, on one of our first outings together with him, some Luddites rode down our carriage. Lucky for us, they were using older guns and ammunition. They killed our driver’s horses, but other than that, Ripley and I were able to handle them.”

“Well, I heard they was using modern guns on the factory hit, and that got me to wondering. So, I’ve some contacts there. I’m sure Chancey here has some, too.”

“Not with the Luddies, no,” Chance said. “They’re zealots, that lot. I stick with street gangs. Far more rational.”

“Right. Well anyway, I checked with my contacts, and something strange is going on with that group. They’ve always been antagonistic toward industrialists, but lately it’s gotten much worse.”

Rip said, “Why? What’s changed?”

“New leadership,” Twig said. “From what my contact told me, a woman named Beatrice Belle moved in and whacked their old leader. She has a muscleman who does most of the dirty work, and he helps keep the other Luddies in line.”

“Wallace Biggin. We’ve met him a couple times.”

“Right. So, with Beatrice at the helm, everyone calls her ‘Beaterus,’ by the way, that’s her nickname. With Beaterus in charge, the gang has shifted tactics. First thing she did was procure modern weapons for all the blokes. That’s a break in tradition. Usually they won’t touch something less than fifty years old.”

“I suppose now they’re on a rampage against industrialists everywhere,” Blair said. “Chief Inspector Sperry should know about this.”

“Well, now, here’s the queer thing, Lady Coulter. I had the same thought, that all the factory owners and such would be in mortal danger. But that’s not the case. No, not at all. You see, Beaterus and her boy Biggin targeted your father’s company, and him alone. No other targets are in the works at the moment.”

Rip said, “That’s what we call a surgical strike where I come from.”

“Aye.”

“But why? Why my father, of all people?”

Twig sighed, with a frown.

“I cannot say, Lady Coulter. But as our first mission, might I suggest the Rangers go and find out. It may not pay as well as we all would like, but my thoughts are it may well be important.”