“Is it ‘mongeese’?” Tommy whispered.
Kuni had no idea. They had lost her again.
Graham took Kuni’s hand. “I know where your priorities lie. You needn’t come along if you don’t wish to.”
“She does want to,” the duchess interjected before Kuni could answer. “I promised to teach her how to fight dirty.”
Graham did not look at his sister. His eyes were on Kuni. “Maybe you’d like being a Wynchester more than you think.”
He was not talking about the cotton manufactory. He was suggesting she give up her role in her family’s legacy and shirk her duty to a royal princess. Abandon Kuni’s familyandher honor.
“I’m coming with you,” she said loudly, then dropped her voice. “And then Iamleaving.”
His thumb traced soft patterns on hers. “I do want you to come. And I don’t want you to go. But I had to try. You’ve less than a fortnight left. If all goes well, we’ll be home with two days to spare. If our journey takes longer than expected…”
Kuni rubbed her temples. Yes, she had done those calculations as well, the very moment Elizabeth mentioned her need for at least five days of travel each way. But the Goodnights deserved protection.
“You can’t keep me away. The inhumane treatment at the Throckmorten cotton mill must be stopped.Iwill be there to help you do it.”
29
Kuni watched the Wynchesters assign tasks and volunteer for roles in rapid-fire succession. Over time, following their boisterous conversations was getting easier, even when they spoke over one another like this.
Jacob was quickly and unanimously voted to be in charge of interviewing laborers and neighbors. His calm and sensitive demeanor put even the most skittish of people at ease.
Graham was to discreetly document all intelligence, be it from interviews or the Wynchesters’ personal observations.
While his existing albums centered on London and its inhabitants, as soon as they heard Mr. and Mrs. Goodnight’s case, Philippa and her bluestocking friends had researched everything they could about cotton manufactories in general, and the greater Manchester area in specific. She would be sharing this knowledge on the journey north.
In addition to schematic maps, Tommy would take a trunk of costumes and cosmetics, should the need arise for one or more of the Wynchesters to suddenly become someone else.
Since being cast as princess, Elizabeth had not dropped her thick Balcovian accent. She intended to keep it from now through the end of their mission, so that she would not accidentally break character.
Marjorie would play one of the royal portraitists. She intended to start a new sketchbook filled with Elizabeth-as-a-princess’s many alleged visits to notable London sights.
Chloe would be present as herself. She had held the title of Duchess of Faircliffe for a year. If the Throckmortens connected Chloe to the Wynchesters or her past, they would think her embarrassed of her low beginnings and eager to flaunt her newfound status. A nouveau riche upstart, just like the Throckmortens.
The Duke of Faircliffe would remain at home, in part because he was needed in the House of Lords, and in part to provide an alibi for Chloe, should she need to claim later that of course she had not traveled to Manchester with a fake princess. A duchess wouldneverleave her duke’s side during the height of the season.
And Kuni…could hold her future position, if she wanted. Or play a lady’s maid, if she didn’t.
“Well?” Marjorie asked Kuni. “What did you decide? Will you be a servant or a guard?”
Tommy cleared her throat. “I may have happened to coincidentally put together a Balcovian Royal Guard uniform in your size. If you want it.”
Oh, Kuni wanted it. Longing shot through her, deep and sharp. And suspicion.
“You should not have!” She spun her head toward Marjorie. “That picture I helped you to paint. Was it for Tommy all along?”
Marjorie’s angelic face was all wide-eyed innocence. “It sounds to me like in the end, it turned out to be foryou.”
“Pleasecome with me for a fitting.” Tommy leapt to her feet. “Give me an hour and we can make your uniform fit you to perfection.”
Equal parts excited and nervous, Kuni followed Tommy into her dressing room. The mountains of clothes and wigs were gone.
Tommy shut the door and strode to the center wardrobe. “Now, where did I put the… Ah, here it is!” She held out a neatly folded stack of cloth.
Kuni accepted the garments with trembling hands. The material was not as stiff as one of the real uniforms, but the colors were almost perfect. Coal-black trousers and a coat of rich pink, trimmed in gold with matching gold buttons.
