He emerged riding both geldings at once, one foot in each saddle. He needed both hands for the reins, so he clutched the rose between his teeth as he raced Charlie and Sheepshanks past a dumbfounded Mr. Durbridge, who bore grass stains on his breeches.
At the sound of thundering hooves, Mr. Throckmorten poked his bruised head out of the window and goggled at the sight of their thief standing atop two horses at once.
Graham raced past him, rose petals fluttering in his face as he moved both feet onto Charlie. He slid down into his saddle and dropped the reins just in time to scoop up Kunigunde beneath her arms as he galloped past her.
He tumbled her over his lap and onto Sheepshanks’s sidesaddle. She grabbed the pommel seconds before both horses smoothly jumped the six-foot-high hedge of rosebushes, blocking them from the men’s sight. The startled shouts faded as Graham and Kunigunde cut down the neighbor’s walking path toward the river.
Kunigunde dropped the heavy satchel into the saddlebag and grabbed for her loose reins.
The manor house was out of sight behind the trees. For all Mr. Throckmorten and Mr. Durbridge knew, Graham and Kunigunde could have crossed the river by now and gone anywhere.
He gathered his reins with one hand and handed her the pitiful rose with the other. The wind had stolen most of the ivory petals, but it was the thought that counted. A token for the fair maiden Graham loved.
“Anything interesting happen at work today?” he asked innocently.
“Trick circus horses!” She laughed until tears leaked from her eyes. “When I saw you coming…Whentheysaw you coming…Why in the crispy crocuses were you standing, instead of riding?”
“I was showing off.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Are you impressed?”
“More than impressed.” She held the bald rose to her chest, her black eyes shining. “I want you toteachme.”
35
Subtle,” Tommy said, and fell over laughing again.
She and Kuni were changing clothes inside the guesthouse. Tommy was holding a frilly white parasol and wearing an equally frilly white muslin gown sprigged with tiny buds of yellow flowers.
Kuni tried her best not to stare, but Tommy caught one of Kuni’s sidelong glances and raised her brows.
“I’m sorry.” Kuni’s cheeks heated. “I’ve never seen you…”
“…in a dress before?” Tommy gave a little twirl. “It’s not my favorite costume, but our aim is to seem innocuous. Nothing looks more helpless than women.”
“Do Iwantto know what your favorite costume is?” Kuni asked.
“There’s a right moment for all of them. I’d be partial to Great-Aunt Wynchester, if we weren’t trying to hide who we are.”
Kuni could only imagine. As much as she wished she could burst into the manufactory and shout that the workers were to receive the money they were owed, the Wynchesters were right. It would be indiscreet.
The original clients were Mr. and Mrs. Goodnight, and it was their home that Kuni, Tommy, and Marjorie were to visit.
While the Wynchesters’ drivers were readying the horses, Jacob and Graham were loading the trunks and valises back into the coaches. Philippa, in her mobcap and apron, was checking every nook of the guest chambers to make certain they’d left nothing behind.
Chloe and Elizabeth were in the parlor, taking their reluctant leave of Mrs. Throckmorten. Their hostess was giddy and flattered by the princess’s expressed wish to delay her departure. Mrs. Throckmorten was also impatient for her guests to be gone so that she could begin spreading gossip of their visit. She firmly insisted her royal guest make the most of the afternoon light and begin her long journey back to London as soon as her conveyance was ready.
But first, there was a commotion.
Mr. Throckmorten came home unexpectedly early from his standing appointment, raving incoherently. He had been set upon by—well, he wasn’t quite sure who. They had materialized out of thin air, flown from windows and stood on horses, and hit him in the head with a pig.
Mrs. Throckmorten was mortified to have her husband’s clear inability to hold his drink be on display in front of royalty. She shooed him to bed with a cold compress before he could spoil the princess’s good opinion of their family.
Outside, Marjorie dashed up to Tommy and Kunigunde wearing an equally girlish walking dress, embroidered with a band of green ivy beneath the bodice and at the base of the cupped sleeves.
“I’m ready,” she said with a smile.
Tommy squinted at her. “You have paint on your nose.”
Marjorie swiped at her nose, then glared at her sister. “I didn’tbringmy paints, you beast.”
