Florentia looked horrified. “Mary Wollstonecraft. Who wrote the most important political and philosophical treatise of female education in the past century.”
Kuni’s face heated. “I…seem to have missed that one.”
“We will solve this at once,” Florentia assured her, and held out an open hand behind her. “Who has a spareVindication?”
Half of the room leapt up to be the first to offer Kuni their copy of the book.
Her cheeks flushed again, but for a different reason. Her ignorance didn’t matter. The friendly bluestockings had no intention of rejecting her as an outsider for failing to recognize their esteemed author of the month. They wanted her to feel welcome. To have access to what they had. To know what they knew. To be part of their group.
Just like Graham.
“It’s all right,” Kuni mumbled. She waved away the books and handed back her glass. “Thank you for the wine. I cannot stay.”
She ran from the room before they could tempt her with tea cakes and friendship.
Because Kunicouldn’tstay. She was a de Heusch—a future Guard. The best of the best. Princess Mechtilda needed her, and Kuni had a legacy to fulfill.
It was going to be hard enough to walk away from the Wynchesters. She was doing her best not to dwell on the impending moment when she must say farewell to Graham forever. Just the thought filled her belly with a deep ache.
The most foolish thing she could do would be to collect evenmorepeople she could not keep.
She hurried up the stairs toward Marjorie’s art studio, which had lately become a refuge for Kuni, too. But when she reached the first-floor landing, she heard Marjorie’s voice from down the hallway.
Kuni turned toward the sound of lively conversation. Bright sunlight and laughter spilled into the corridor. The door to Tommy’s dressing chamber was wide open. Marjorie said the room often doubled as an impromptu theater, as the siblings loved to watch her transform into someone else.
Was another mission afoot?
Intrigued despite herself, Kuni casually—if as slow as a shield toad—began to stroll toward the open doorway. After all, her bedchamber was down the hall. It was perfectly unexceptionable for her to walk past, and perhaps accidentally glance inside.
It wasn’t as though she were angling to be invited on another adventure. She did not have time. They all knew it. She wasn’t part of their family. They all knew that, too.
But yesterday had been sofun. Her blood had rushed with exhilaration, her strong arms and fast legs useful for something other than standing still.
Perhaps it was better if she didn’t peep in on them. The Wynchesters’ madcap exploits were just one more thing Kuni knew better than to get used to.
But it was too late. Marjorie was already motioning Kuni into the chaotic dressing room.
Only Marjorie and Tommy were inside. Well, Marjorie, Tommy, the large family cat—called Tiglet—and approximately five hundred articles of clothing, most of which appeared to have escaped their armoires and were now strewn haphazardly over the floor, the chairs, the mirrors, the dressing table, the windowsill, and every other surface.
Marjorie held out a plate of biscuits. “Tommy’s cleaning her room.”
“She…is?” Kuni accepted a biscuit and stared into the tempest doubtfully. “What did it look like before?”
“Overripe fruit,” Tommy said. “All five wardrobes, full to bursting.”
“Is that not what wardrobes arefor, in England? To store clothing?”
“Oh, to be sure,” Tommy answered. “But I have new things I need to fit inside and no room for them.”
Marjorie turned to Kuni. “About once a year—or whenever there’s more costumes than space—Tommy goes through everything she has and determines which items she no longer needs. We donate anything that makes sense for children to orphanages, and most other items to the Women’s Employment Charity in St. Giles. Everything else goes to local theaters.”
“Could you…purchase another armoire?” Kuni asked.
Tommy whirled toward her sister. “See? I told you it was a sound idea!”
“No,” Marjorie told Tommy firmly, then turned back to Kuni. “Another wardrobe won’t fit in this room. If Tommy were left to her own devices, she’d fill the entirehousewith costumes.”
“I don’t see why she couldn’t,” Kuni said. “Not the whole house, but what of the unused wing? The only thing in it is Philippa’s library. Surely there is room for a wardrobe or two?”
