Page 42 of A Single Thread of Moonlight

She showed me how to get on the bicycle. It felt strange and awkward, and I soon understood the reasons for Cassie’s outfit. Wrestling with my skirts was an enormous issue.

“This is why the idea of rational dress has been around so long,” Cassie said crossly. “These skirts give women no freedom to move.”

“Precisely why people like them, I suppose,” I huffed, still attempting to balance the bicycle without falling off.

“Exactly!” Cassie’s eyes gleamed. “They don’t want women to run or jump or ride bicycles. They want to cram us in tiny corsets that bend our ribs out of shape, and they tell us that wearing trousers will stop us from having children.”

As a woman whose life was dedicated to clothes, I had thought about such things before, but hearing Cassie talk with such passion was a new experience. My job was largely to make incredible gowns for fine ladies. There wasn’t much call for bicycle-riding outfits. Perhaps that would change. One should never underestimate the power of good clothes: good clothes could start a revolution.

For the next hour I wobbled down the slope again and again, falling over in a tangle of skirts more than once. By the time Cassie and I made our way back to the house I was flushed and mud-spattered, my hair falling from its pins. We left our bicycles propped where we had found them and stomped into the entrance hall.

“I’m absolutely famished.” I placed a hand over my stomach with a groan. “But I suppose I’d better go and make myself presentable, before anyone sees me.”

“Too late for that,” drawled a voice from the bottom of the staircase.

I swung round to find Nicholas – as meticulous as always – leaning against the banister with his arms crossed. His eyes travelled over Cassie and me with a questioning gleam.

I felt a pang of guilt, as if I had been caught out. I supposed that I should be charming Stefan over eggs and toast in the breakfast room.

“What have you two been up to?” he asked. He didn’t sound annoyed or interrogative, only mildly interested.

“Cassie has been teaching me to ride a bicycle,” I said defiantly. It had only been about ten minutes into the lesson that we had become “Cassie” and “Serena” to one another. Something told me that Cassie wasn’t too worried about keeping up the formalities.

“I see.” His eyebrows rose. “How did she do?” he asked Cassie.

“Very well, for her first lesson.” Cassie grinned.

I found that I was smiling too. I couldn’t help it; it had felt wonderful.

“You look as though you enjoyed yourself,” Nicholas said, and his lips quirked, as though he too was trying not to smile.

“I did,” I replied.

“You’ll do much better when you buy a proper cycling outfit with about a dozen less yards of material.” Cassie tugged at my skirt.

“Oh, I—” I began awkwardly.

“Perhaps you could order one tomorrow?” Nicholas suggested. “I understand that some of the ladies are going into town to shop for the party on Friday.” He hesitated. “It’s nice to see you enjoy something so much.”

There was a warmth in his tone; I supposed it was all for Cassie, who might notice his interest and report back to the others.

“Perhaps,” I said.

“Are you going for breakfast?” Cassie asked.

“I am.” Nicholas rolled his eyes. “Even though it is practically the crack of dawn. I can’t stand these country hours.”

“Crack of dawn!” I exclaimed. “It must be almost midday.”

“I know,” he sighed. “An ungodly hour to be awake.”

He stepped aside then, allowing us both to pass him and head up the stairs.

I fought the urge to turn and see if he was watching me go.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I washed and dressed quickly with Matilda’s help. She twisted my hair into a simple knot, and I tugged on a plain powder-blue morning gown. My cheeks were still unfashionably pink from the exercise that morning.