“Which will be quite soon,” his uncle said with interest. “When the time comes, we can go to Lower Dauntry to meet him. But now it’s time to go in for tea.”

Tea was always good for a change of subject.

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 20

Kendra rolled over and stretched. She liked being back in her familiar bed in Thorsay House, but why did it feel rather empty even though she’d spent only a single night with Lucas?

At least she’d see him soon when he came to collect her for the visit to Angelo’s Academy. Speaking of which, she needed to get moving to be ready in time.

After washing up, she brushed out her hair and tied it back with a simple black ribbon. Now it was time to try on the garments that Athena had sent. It was strange to draw on the pantaloons. Made of black stockinette, they had a strap under the foot and the knit fabric stretched with movement. Perfect for fencing.

They were also quite scandalous. Kendra wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She pulled on her own pair of well-broken-in black riding boots. Then, per Athena’s instructions, she donned a set of short stays that provided support for her breasts but were loose enough for movement. A full-sleeved shirt went over the stays.

All black, of course. She’d explained to Athena and the others that she wore black as a symbol of mourning for the death of justice. They had agreed that it made a good statement as well as commenting that she looked good in black.

Over the shirt, she added a garment that was something between a buttoned vest and a tunic. Again black, it fell almost to her knees and made the outfit a little less scandalous. None of the garments were formfitting, but neither were they baggy. Athena had done a good job of estimating Kendra’s size.

She looked dangerous. Good. Turning away from the mirror, she lifted her riding crop and lunged forward as if it was a small sword. Heavens, the freedom of movement! She twisted through several other fencing exercises and wasn’t once constrained by her garments. A woman could get used to this!

Much as she liked the pantaloons, Kendra wasn’t ready to be seen wearing them on a public street. She tossed her cloak over her arm and went down to find breakfast.

Thorsay House was primarily run by Mr. and Mrs. Brown. Donald was Thorsayian and his wife, Emma, was a London girl whom he’d met when he was stationed at an army barracks in the city. They ran the household with an easy competence and a Thorsayian informality. Kendra felt very lucky that she was able to live here.

Emma Brown looked up at Kendra’s entrance. “Good morning. Your usual?”

“Yes, please.”