CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Rebel
Saturday came without a training bell, and the relief of it settled into Lily’s aching body like warm water. I slept in late. I skipped the painful ritual of breakfast at the Bradford table, and instead asked Tamara to set us up tea and a late brunch out in the garden.
Tamara set the tea things out on the little wrought-iron table at the edge of the garden, in the corner where the morning sun came through without any wind, and I let her fuss. She poured, and added the honey I liked without being asked, and then sat with me. She still sat like she expected to be told not to. Servants weren’t supposed to sit at the same table with their employers.
I didn’t tell her not to. In fact I expressly invited her to sit with me.
The garden was the one part of the Bradf
