Chapter 3Kit did not particularly enjoy fashion, though he’d never admit it. His sister genuinely loved every detail about the origins of calico or the history of lace or the comparative textures of various satins, and he would’ve died rather than deflate Anne’s enthusiasm, so he nodded and smiled and let her propose silver buttons on an emerald-hued waistcoat, which he dutifully wore.
On his own he would’ve settled for plain black and white. Unfussy. Simple. Not requiring much thought.
Rain leapt on the window-glass, mocking him. It got to dress up in silvery lack of color.
He sighed, considered his coat—a shade of dark plum Anne had proclaimed to be perfect for his hair and eyes—and turned from the mirror. Tall broad-shouldered country sunshine filled up his bedroom, improbably; Harry
