Alas, the chronosphere would not continue to work outside the Capital without its daily winding and an infusion of etherea, but it was worth using just to taunt people like Moody, and remind them of just who ranked over them.

“I will return on the morrow to inspect your progress,” Silk said. “But now I’ve another appointment to attend.” He turned on his heel and twirled his walking stick into a neat tuck beneath his arm, strolling past the magnificent drill without another glance.

He did not really have another appointment but it was tea time, and he had a dinner party to plan, during which he’d extract the second part of his payment from Bryce Lowell Josston for the stallion. Long ago an accident had left Silk’s sight less than adequate, and bright light caused his eyes pain. But the accident had also enhanced his vision in some ways, allowed him to see more, and what he saw of Miss Kari Goodgrave indicated there was more to her than ordinary sight might perceive.

IN THE SHARD OF THE LOOKING MASK

Mirriam stormed into the stable, and Luke and his stable lads slunk into the shadows like chastened cats. She glowered at Karigan, who was in the center aisle of the stable currying Raven’s neck, but Mirriam directed her fury at the professor. “Professor Josston! You know better.”

“I—I do?” He stepped backward and fiddled with the brim of his hat, which he held in his hands.

“The stable is not a suitable place for a young lady.”

“Oh, well, I—”

“And Miss Goodgrave!”

Karigan paused her currying.

“Step away from the horse,” Mirriam commanded.

Karigan did no such thing, but thrust her veil out of her face to glare back at Mirriam. “Why? This is my new horse.”

Mirriam’s gaze flashed again to the professor, who took another step back. “New horse?”

“It’s . . . it’s true. We, uh, acquired him on our outing.”

Mirriam gazed hard in turn at Raven, who perked his ears at her.

“You bought the young lady an . . . an . . . intact stallion?”

The professor glanced at Raven’s nether regions as if to confirm Mirriam’s observation. “It does appear that way,” he replied.

“His name is Raven,” Karigan said.

“It’s unseemly. Thoroughly unseemly. Young lady, you come to the house this instant before you ruin that fine dress. Or your shoes. Mind the droppings.” Mirriam turned and marched from the stables, apparently expecting Karigan to obediently follow behind her.

“You’d best go, my dear,” the professor said anxiously. “Best not to incur Mirriam’s wrath, or she will not allow you out of her sight ever again.”

“Don’t worry, miss,” Luke said, coming out of hiding. “We’ll settle Raven in. I think he’ll let us handle him now.”

Karigan ran her hand down the stallion’s nose, and he nickered. “You behave. I’ll be back, no matter what Mirriam says.”

He bowed his head as if to acquiesce, and Karigan departed. Once out of the stable and in the sunlight, she gazed in guilt at the horse sweat, dirt, and hair soiling her fine gloves. The front of her dress had not fared much better. Mirriam was definitely going to be displeased.

When Karigan reached the house, Mirriam was that and more. She paced about Karigan’s room and snatched parts of the outing dress as they came off.

“What was the professor thinking?” she demanded. “A horse! A stallion, no less!”

“I will need clothes suitable for riding,” Karigan said quietly.

“Riding? Proper young ladies do not ride. They especially do not ride stallions. Proper young ladies are conveyed in a carriage with an appropriate chaperone in attendance.”

Karigan sighed. The professor had said as much. With Mirriam around, getting to spend time with Raven was going to be a more difficult challenge than she had anticipated.

“I know you are from the country where people are . . . different, so I don’t really blame you, Miss Goodgrave. But here where young ladies are under the scrutiny of fashionable society, it’s just not acceptable. It would cause a scandalous stir here in the city. I’m afraid your station is above the crassness of such things as riding.”

Above the crassness? Well then, Karigan would have to cause a stir, which was not a good plan if she didn’t wish to draw the notice of the imperial authorities. Such a strange world she’d stumbled into. She tried to imagine Mirriam’s reaction if the housekeeper could travel to the past, Karigan’s own time, with women on horseback and doing so many things that would not be considered ladylike in Mill City. Mirriam would be appalled, Karigan decided. Ironically, for all of her bluster, Mirriam was strong in nature the way she reigned over the household and commanded all who dwelled there, including the professor. She was the antithesis of the delicate, wilting flower the empire appeared to desire of its women. Karigan decided not to point it out and considered that perhaps the delicate, wilting flower thing did not apply to servants anyway.

Karigan wrapped herself in a puffy robe, and Mirriam propelled her down the corridor toward the bathing room.

“What could he have been thinking?” Mirriam muttered for the nth time.

Karigan made no attempt to answer but entered the bathing room, closed Mirriam on the other side of the door, and headed for the tub, eager to wash away the grime of the city that clung to her like a second skin. Just having been out in the open air had made it so, and if this was a good day, she was not anxious to find out what a bad day would be like.