She found a little red knee-length skirt, all ruffles and lace at the bottom, and a fitted bodice top to go with it. Twirling in front of the mirror made the skirt flip out to expose an indecent amount of leg. It was sexy and surely naughty, but when she thought of how Theo would approve, it made her warm inside.
Kirsten knocked at the bedroom door a few minutes later. In a plain blue and white dress, with her brunette hair secured in a bun, Kirsten looked happy and young enough to brighten any room. Claire compared her muscular figure with Kirsten’s—next to all those curves and softness, she was an overgrown warrior woman.
This woman had makeup on too. Did Theo expect her to wear makeup?
That, of course, was exactly her problem—she didn’t fit in here. She stood out like a sore thumb. Not feminine, and she certainly wasn’t going to be a house guard.
“The colonel said I was to give you a grand tour.” Kirsten pursed her mouth. “I’m not sure what that is…but we could start in the kitchens? Tell me if there’s something you’d rather see.”
“Oh. I have to see June. But the kitchen sounds good.”
They walked on in silence. Kirsten didn’t seem to mind and bounced with each step. What had she in common with this bubbly woman?
“Here’s the kitchen,” announced Kirsten, flinging open a white door off a hallway near the foyer.
Though the estate must house at least a hundred men and women, Claire was surprised at the size of the kitchen. The noise hadn’t carried into the hall, but the banging of metal pans and implements, the hiss of fires and ovens, and the chatter of the kitchen staff filled this room up. She wondered how their heads didn’t burst.
The aromas of roasted meat and vegetables mingled enticingly with mysterious herbs and spices. Inside a massive steel glass-front oven, a pig rotated on a spit. Her mouth watered.
By the time she and Kirsten emerged from the kitchen into the hallway, they’d been fed several pastries and tidbits of meat by the head cooks, Jonathan and Maria. Her stomach gurgled from the unexpected fullness.
They continued on to a two-story open area studded with pots overflowing with pink blossoms. A set of white doors led outside. This would be the back of the mansion.
Claire licked a smear of liqueur off her finger. “I thought it was bad to have two head cooks. Isn’t there a saying about that spoiling the broth?”
“Um?” Kirsten screwed up her face. “Is there? Who cares? As long as I get fed. Come on. I’ll show you the gardens.”
Once past the doors—three broad stone steps led down from a rear colonnade—Claire paused. This was the first time she’d been allowed outside the mansion. She’d been prepared for some hostile looks, yet every member of household staff had been friendly. It must be because Kirsten was by her side.
For two or three hundred yards, a sea of grass stretched, pure green and mown to within an inch of the earth. Past that, eight low whitewashed buildings interrupted the flatness. Automatically, she put each of them into place on the map in her head.
“This way.” Kirsten beckoned to the left.
After checking the rows of vegetables with the ancient head gardener, George, Claire gained a new respect for gardeners. She’d planted seeds and watered and even had a try at swinging a hoe. June was George’s wife. She emerged from a small greenhouse and stood with arms akimbo, tut-tutting while shaking her head slowly at Claire.
“Oh, June, I’m so sorry for what I did. Will you forgive me?”
June sighed, wrinkling that squashed nose of hers. “Course I will. Come here, girl, and get a hug. It’ll make us both feel better.”
Tentatively she walked up and put her arms around the woman. She was big and round and smelled of freshly baked bread and oranges. And except for Theo, she gave the best hugs ever, even if she was six inches shorter.
“Thank you,” Claire murmured. This was all so strange—lovely but strange.
Next stop were the kennels, but along the way, Claire found herself looking at her hands. They ached in new places from the rough handle of the hoe, and she’d raised a sweat from the effort. The smell of fresh soil and the sight of the green seedlings half uncurled in their seedbeds made her think of life.
If I ever have to leave, what am I going to do? Every hour she stayed, made her want even more to stay. Would there come a day when she’d feel safe enough to tell Theo what she was and why she’d been on the airship? Hi there. I’m an assassin, and I may have been assigned to kill you. Maybe there just wasn’t a right way to say that. And maybe her secret was buried so deep in the PME military archives that no one would find out. If she left here, she’d miss more than Theo. There were things to do here she’d never imagined were worthwhile attempting. Gardening, of all things. She smiled a little sadly.
Kirsten pointed across the open lawn. “That’s the barracks over there and the firing range and Henry’s vehicle depot.”
A vehicle depot? Her professional curiosity prodded at her. “What sort of vehicles?”
“Oh, Henry has the steam limousine and a little fast car thing, and then there’s the landships.”