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Tess ran her hand in the ash as well, lightly brushing it along Vivienne’s ears and down her jawline.

“That should help disguise the set of your jaw and lack of facial hair long enough to dissuade any travelers. Just take care not to brush it away.” Tess rested her hand on Vivienne’s shoulder.

“As Brexton, I shall fetch Brigand. You get to the kitchen and pack whatever you can find.”

She trotted down the stairs, the freedom her breeches offered feeling odd, as well as the heavy clomp of the boots Tess had discreetly purchased from Noah before leaving Lark Manor.

They were still too big, but they would do the job.

She crossed the kitchen to the dry larder and rummaged.

The cook and Brexton had not left much, most likely thinking it would mold, but there were some fig preserves tucked away in the larder as well as a round of cheese.

She looked about for a cleaver, but there were too many drawers and too little time.

Drawing her rapier, she lifted it above her head and whacked the cheese, slicing off a good-sized hunk. How satisfying. She grinned.

She wrapped the wedge in cheesecloth and tucked the preserves under her arm.

She wouldn’t starve, but her breath would aid as well as her weapons in fighting off anyone.

By sheer luck, she spied a leather canteen hanging in the larder.

With a squeal of glee, she snatched it and filled it at the pump, drinking heavily before filling it again and slinging it across her chest to lay opposite the rapier.

The added weight would be tiresome, but she could store the rest of her goods in the saddlebags.

She gave the kitchen one last sweeping glance for any hidden goodies and spied the sugar pot.

She grabbed three lumps of sugar and darted out the back door, where Tess stood with Brigand.

Tess rubbed Brigand’s nose. She gritted her teeth and eyed Vivienne as she stuffed her findings into the saddlebags. “I know you are decent riding sidesaddle, but do you know how to ride astride?”

“If a lady can perch upon a sidesaddle wearing stays, it shall be nothing to conquer astride in breeches.” She tilted her chin, pushing confidence into her voice and stance as she reached forward, the sugar in her open hand.

Tess pulled Vivienne’s hand back and flattened her palm and fingers. “Lay your hand flat, or he will chomp off your fingers. Are you certain you do not wish to take the stagecoach dressed as a man?”

“I do not avoid riding because I am not adept. I just don’t necessarily enjoy it. I always preferred running or driving the pony cart.”

Tess pinched the bridge of her nose. “I should have talked you into allowing me to take your place. My da taught me everything he knows about horses.”

“You know I can see this through faster, Tess.” She moved to the horse’s side and took the mounting block. “Now, are you going to help me up onto the horse or not?”

Tess grunted.

That was as close to agreement as Vivienne would get.

She swung her leg over but promptly kept sliding to the right toward the pavers.

She scrambled to catch hold of the horse’s mane, her legs splaying as she jerked herself upward.

Brigand tossed his mane in annoyance as she righted herself, losing Bash’s hat in the ordeal.

Tess nodded and scooped up the hat, tossing it to her. “Off to a promising start.”

“At least I didn’t fall.” Vivienne patted Brigand in thanks for being patient with her and not prancing to the side.

“There’s that.” Tess checked the saddle, walking around the horse. “It’s a little over a hundred miles to London. Brigand is a magnificent animal built for endurance. He can trot up to forty miles without a break.”

Vivienne shifted in the saddle, hoping for a more comfortable position. “Wouldn’t cantering be faster?”

Tess shrugged and returned to petting Brigand’s nose.

“Momentarily, but he will tire sooner and need to rest. Slower and steadier is ideal. If you need to canter, he can last about seven miles. But if you are trying to outstride danger, he can gallop full speed for about two and a half miles before he tires. You’ll need to hide before he is fatigued. ”

“Very good. No galloping unless an absolute emergency then.”

“I know it will be hard to see any mile markers at night, but be in tune with your horse. He will let you know when he needs a break.”

Vivienne’s stomach roiled. There was much more to riding long distances than she had ever thought of before. She might seriously injure Bash’s precious Brigand.

Tess reached up and clasped Vivienne’s hand. “I know I have my doubts, but I take comfort that you are not alone. God be with you, Vivienne. You are going to need all the help you can get.”

Vivienne pressed her fingers to her lips and waved farewell to her dear friend.

There was something to be said about testing one’s courage.

It was all well and good to be brave in a parlor with friends and servants about or outside one’s childhood home, with the lanterns always flickering, offering comfort in their familiar glow, or when one was usually cloistered in bed curtains with a ready taper nearby—along with a bellpull to summon servants.

But when one set off into the unknown at the night hours, it was entirely a different thing.

Thankfully, the moon was full, or full enough to not die by one’s horse tripping in a hole in the street.

Brigand’s stride was true and strong. And with her weapons glittering in the moonlight, any loiterers on the sidewalk avoided eye contact.

When she was beyond the city, she kicked Brigand into a trot, praying for favor in the long journey ahead.