Graham touched his fingertips together. “We need full access to the manufactory and its workers—without causing the Throckmortens any suspicion.”
“How will we manage that?” Philippa asked. “We’re still Wynchesters. Anything we do is highly suspicious.”
Tommy’s eyes sparkled. “We’llallbe in disguise.”
“All of us?” Marjorie’s expression was skeptical. “In disguise as what?”
“Kunigunde gave me the idea,” Chloe said.
Kuni sat straight up, startled. “I did? What was it?”
“We’ll go as a royal entourage. No one—certainly not self-important scoundrels like Silas Throckmorten and his wife—would turn away a surprise visit from Princess Mechtilda of Balcovia.”
“Small wrinkle,” Kuni said. “Princess Mechtilda is stillinBalcovia.”
“No one else knows that.” Graham lifted a pile of broadsheets. “The royal ship has been docked at port for twenty-five days. The scandal columns are rife with speculation of who is aboard and why they’re here. I have seen so many outlandish theories that literally anything we come up with will seem reasonable by comparison.”
“What reasondidthe royal family give for this visit?” Tommy asked.
“None,” Kuni said. “It would not bode well for international relations if our king admitted sending a scouting mission because he did not trust your countrymen or the ability ofyourking to provide adequate security.”
Graham folded a newspaper. “It doesn’t matter. Princess Mechtilda could say she’s visiting Manchester because she only visits things that begin with the letter ‘M,’ and it would be printed in five scandal sheets by morning.”
“And we needn’t pull off the ruse indefinitely,” Chloe added. “Arrive, interview, investigate, leave. One night at most.”
Kuni frowned. “Silas Throckmorten may be a barbigerous dottle, but he doesn’t seem stupid. What would a royal retinue be doing in Tipford-upon-Bealbrook without the royal princess?”
“You’re right.” Graham cleared his throat. “Obviously this plan requires a royal princess.”
“Or the appearance of one,” Tommy said. “Philippa looks most like your painting.”
“Absolutely not,” said Philippa. “I could be a cowering lady’s maid, but there is no chance anyone would believe me to be Her Royal Highness.”
“You’remyqueen,” Tommy told her. “Your beauty outshines them all.”
Philippa blushed and shook her head.
Kuni looked at Graham. “Princess Mechtilda is tramping through cotton mills instead of taking tea with the queen?”
“First, there’s no reason to suppose she hasn’talreadyseen Buckingham Palace. It would not be unlike Queen Charlotte to host a visiting princess for an exclusive tea without extending any other aristocrats an invitation.”
“Second,” Tommy added, “not being part of the social whirl is agoodthing. It lends credence to the idea that the princess is not here for pleasure, but for business. Average citizens have no idea what Balcovia’s primary industries are—”
“Tulips and amaranth,” Marjorie answered. “Both very pretty.”
“And fish,” Jacob added. “Lots of fish.”
“But to anyone who has grown rich on cotton,” Philippa continued, “it makes sense that Balcovia might wish to do the same. Why not tour successful manufactories in order to replicate their success back on the Continent?”
“Themostsuccessful mill,” Elizabeth said. “They’ll be so flattered at being considered the best in England, they won’t look deeper. Their heads will be too full of all the ways they intend to lord this visit over their friends and competitors.”
“Princess Mechtilda would never condone such practices,” Kuni said. “Most raw cotton is imported from slave plantations.”
“None of us condone it,” Tommy said. “This is a role. We play whatever part we must to help our clients.”
“Even if it means painting Balcovia in a slightly less-than-favorable light,” Marjorie added. “The rest of us will know the truth.”
Kuni sighed. “I don’t like it. But all right. For the clients’ sake, and all the laborers.”
