“Graham told me you saw the album he’d been working on.” Tommy squinted at a pinned hem and made some chalk marks on the fabric. “He says you wouldn’t touch it.”
Kuni closed her eyes. “It’s not for me.”
“What has that to do with anything?” Tommy pushed to her feet and slid the remaining pins back into their cushion. “Aren’t we tailoring this uniform in order to help others? Why is it acceptable for you to assist the Goodnights, but Graham can’t helpyou?”
“Theyaskedfor help.” Kuni held Tommy’s gaze. “Should I sneak in here while you’re asleep and ‘mend’ all your hems for you? Perhaps I’m better at it. Would you thank me for sewing your clothing my way without giving any consideration to your wishes?”
Tommy shuddered. “Stay away from my costumes. You’ve made your point.”
“I didn’t want you to make this uniform, either,” Kuni reminded her. “If it weren’t for the Goodnights, I wouldn’t wear it. And I will not be taking it with me.”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have done it against your wishes. And Graham would not have appreciated it if he discovered you’d replaced all of his albums with journals of your own, even if your arrangement of facts was better than his.”
“It’s more than that. Accepting aid undermines my efforts to prove myself as equal to the men. If I show any weakness, it will be blamed on my sex, and I will not be chosen.”
Tommy winced. “A critical point, and the one I should have kept most in mind. We’re so careful to give our clients autonomy, yet when it comes to friends and family, we often leap without thinking. Philippa has reminded me of this more than once. I see I have more work to do. I’ll have a talk with Graham, as well.”
“Please don’t. Our relations should be between him and me.”
Tommy tilted her head. “What exactlyishappening with you and my brother? I saw him touch your hand. And your arm. And your cheek. I assume that is only the beginning. Is this…serious?”
Kuni’s chest constricted. She took in a slow, unsteady breath. “No. It is not serious. It cannot be. I am going to leave and he is going to stay. The best thing for both of us is to guard our hearts. In two weeks, we say goodbye.”
“Hmm, I suppose you could try that.” Tommy’s expression was dubious. “Well, guard away. Let me know how it goes.”
30
Kunigunde slept on Graham’s shoulder, her hands curled into her lap. He wrapped his arm around her, shielding her from the bumps of the carriage. And also because he liked the feel of her snuggled next to him. At the inns, he would have traded Jacob as a roommate in a second if there’d been any hope of Graham and Kunigunde sharing a bedchamber instead.
He slipped his free hand over hers. Her index finger held a faint ink stain. He slid the pad of his thumb over the small spot. He did not care if this small caress was visible to the other passengers in the carriage.
Not that Tommy and Philippa were paying any attention. They shared the forward-facing seat, and their eyes were only on each other.
Chloe, Elizabeth, Jacob, and Marjorie were in the coach ahead of theirs. Another carriage brought up the rear, filled to the brim with trunks and valises. Three carriages didn’t quite look like a royal procession, but it would be impressive enough for their purposes.
“Graham, have the driver pause here,” Tommy said suddenly.
He knocked on the connecting panel, giving the signal. Soon, all three carriages were somewhat hidden behind a copse of trees.
Kunigunde opened her eyes and turned her gaze toward the windows. The Pennine Hills had given way to flat countryside filled with leafy green elms and willows.
“This is Tipford-upon-Bealbrook?” she asked.
“It will be, in a few miles,” Tommy answered. “The town is a tenth of Manchester’s size, but densely populated. Plenty of traffic will clog the streets. This is our moment to ready the ruse.”
Graham and Jacob pulled a valise full of pinkish-purple cloth out of the third carriage. In no time, they had the horses dressed in not-quite-amaranth.
Marjorie and Chloe fitted the doors on both sides of each coach with the false coat of arms. Elizabeth and Philippa handed colorful, faux-Balcovian sashes to each of the drivers, and a matching flower made of silk for their lapels.
Tommy gave them all a wicked grin. “Now it’s our turn.”
“I cannot wait to be Princess Mechtilda,” Elizabeth said fervently.
“Icannot wait for Mr. Throckmorten to get his comeuppance,” Kunigunde said.
“Oh, he will.” Tommy led them to the carriage full of valises. “When he and his wife attempt to brag about a visit from a princess who’s never stepped on our shores, the Throckmortens will be called liars. They’ll become laughingstocks amongst their friends and their entire town.”
“How can you be so sure?” Kunigunde asked.
