When the Wynchesters had offered to help Kuni compile an exhaustive report, it seemed they had not been overstating their means and ingenuity. This salon was less like a parlor for receiving guests and more like the sort of command room she imagined generals using when they conspired to stop Napoleon Bonaparte.
If she needed to infiltrate a hospital or a prison or St. Paul’s Cathedral, the plans and routes and diagrams were all sitting right here.
But Kuni could not cheat. Royal Guards were honorable. If she couldn’t complete the assignment fully on her own, they would say she didn’t deserve the title. She dare not let gossip of perceived weakness ruin her chances. By personally compiling thorough and useful intelligence, she would prove her worth to her family and her king.
And maybe also to the Wynchesters. Who did not need her interference in their mission, just as she did not require theirs in hers.
Kuni glanced at a tall-case clock scrunched between the bookcases. Nine o’clock in the morning was a far later hour than usual to set off on her daily reconnaissance. If she intended to join her ancestors in becoming the best of the best, she would not accomplish the feat by moping about someone else’s parlor.
She was almost to her guest chamber to retrieve her own intelligence journal when a door swung open behind her.
Noise burst out at once, followed by all eight Wynchesters, who disappeared down the stairs without noticing Kuni hovering awkwardly farther down the corridor. All of them except Graham. He was the last out of the room.
It was dreadful how attractive she found the man.
She had meant to mind her distance from him, but one glance at his sparkling brown eyes, tumbling black curls, and exquisitely tailored frock coat… There was no hope of going anywhere.
After securing the door, he glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of Kuni. Rather than follow the others—or motion for her to join them—he strode down the corridor to meet her.
He was easily the handsomest rogue she had ever seen. Who could blame her if her pulse skipped and her heart beat a little faster whenever that quick mind and intense gaze concentrated solely on her?
“How did you do?” she stammered before she could start drooling lustfully down his tasteful waistcoat. “Is everything sorted?”
“I hope so,” he said, surprising her. She hadn’t thought of any solution to the Goodnights’ problem. “At least, it could be very soon.”
“That is wonderful! I didn’t think there was any hope of teaching Mr. Throckmorten to show a hint of empathy.”
“Neither do we,” Graham answered. “So we’re not going to waste our time trying. Chloe says the reformation of labor practices in cotton manufactories has come up several times recently in the House of Commons, but the topic always fades because there’s never a strong enough catalyst for change.”
“You believe the Goodnights are that strong catalyst?”
“I wish I did,” he answered dryly. “If the MPs won’t listen to each other, they certainly won’t heed a pair of penniless grandparents.”
“Will they heed anyone?”
“Perhaps they’ll listen tomanyvoices. A team of us are leaving for Tipford-upon-Bealbrook right after nuncheon.”
That was less than three hours away. Kuni was not surprised they could be ready so swiftly.
“We shall draft an official petition for restricting the hours of labor in this particular manufactory and gather as many signatures from the town and adjacent villages as possible.”
She frowned. “Will that stop Mr. Throckmorten?”
“It will illustrate that there is a profound problem and that the representatives’ constituents are demanding change. Philippa’s father, Mr. York, is a leading MP. Philippa can convince him to bring the petition to the floor. Then, once new regulations pass the House of Commons, Faircliffe will ensure it does the same in the House of Lords. In any case, a Wynchester makes no plans without a—”
“Wait.” Kuni wished she understood the English legislative and judicial systems better. “You’re saying the reason Mr. Throckmorten is getting away with exploiting his workers, is because he’s not doing anything illegal.”
“That’s unfortunately correct.”
“So instead of trying to convince a blithering gubbins like that to change, you will simply make such working conditions illegal—thereby improving them not just in one town, but in all manufactories everywhere?”
“Exactly.” Graham grinned at her. “Want to come along?”
Kuni’s chest constricted and her breath caught. Shewasinvited. He had just invited her!
But of course she could not go. Graham did not speak for the rest of his siblings, and more importantly, Kuni had a mission of her own to complete.
The royal vessel would set sail in twenty-nine days. She and her unimpeachable report needed to be on it.
