Emma put an egg into simmering water and poured Kendra a cup of steaming tea. “That’s quite the outfit you’re wearing, but isn’t it early in the day for a masquerade?”

Kendra laughed and cut a slice of bread, then stuck it on a long toasting fork and held it over the fire. “I’m going to Angelo’s Fencing Academy this morning. One of the other women who fences there sent me this outfit. It’s so easy to move around wearing this!”

“A good thing you’ll have a sword to fight off the men who like the look of your legs,” Emma said dryly.

“Lord Foxton will escort me over and back, and he’s a dab hand with a dirk,” Kendra explained.

“Really? He looks too pretty to be a fighter.”

“He was an officer in the Royal Navy and is more dangerous than he appears.” Her bread toasted, Kendra buttered the slice, then cut it into the narrow strips called toast soldiers.

Emma served the soft-boiled egg in an egg cup. Kendra neatly decapitated her egg and dipped the first toast soldier into the warm yolk. Delicious, and each bite was followed by a mouthful of tea. She loved the informality of Thorsay House, and the way she was accepted without judgment. She paid a generous fee for the use of the house, and in return received a comfortable lodging and easy company.

“The house has been quiet for the last fortnight,” she remarked. “Are any other Thorsayians expected?”

Emma shrugged. “Hard to say. Most just show up at the door as you did. You’re the only long-term guest we’ve had recently.” She topped up the tea for them both. “But I did hear that the young laird may soon be coming through on his way back home.”

“My cousin Ramsay? It’s been years since I’ve seen him. Where has he been living lately?” Kendra asked with surprise.

“Constantinople, they say. ’Tis a long voyage from there to here.”

“A couple of months, I’d guess,” Kendra agreed. If Ramsay was coming home, it probably meant the old laird was failing in health. She’d like to see Ramsay again. He’d been like a big brother to her when she was a little girl summering in Thorsay. But he’d had restless feet and headed out to distant lands when he finished university.

She was finishing her breakfast when Donald Brown entered the kitchen, saying laconically, “Your friend is here, Miss Kendra.”

“Thank you.” She swallowed the last of her tea and stood, giving Donald his first look at her pantaloons.

“You’re going out in your drawers?” he asked, scandalized.

“Pantaloons, not drawers,” she explained. “I’m looking forward to fencing in them.”

“What’s the world comin’ to?” he muttered, but his gaze was amused and appreciative.