Megan Christopher

“Addy,” said Mrs. Kaur. “I’ll still have to log it, and account for it later.”
“Blame me,” said Robin at once.
One thick black eyebrow arched.
Miss Morrissey leaned forward and smiled at her sister. “Would you say Sir Robert is a threatening figure?”
“Er,” said Mrs. Kaur. It was the most diplomatic single syllable Robin had ever heard.
“Are you afraid for your maidenly virtue?”
“I’m married, Addy,” said Kitty Kaur dryly. “I have none.” She eyed Robin. “He does seem the kind of well-built, pugnacious fellow who would follow through on a threat of bodily harm.”
“I beg your pardon,” Robin began to protest, and then the penny dropped. “Oh. Would it help if I raised my voice?”
“Yes, that would do nicely. Sir Robert strong-armed my sister into bringing him here to seek my help, and threatened us with harm unless I abused my access to the lockroom in order to locate Mr. Courcey. Overcome by concern for his friend, of course, but still. Most brutish behavior.”
“And we are but feeble women,” said Miss Morrissey. “Woe.”
“Your sister is a magician,” Robin said, pointing out what seemed the largest hole in this story.
“Woe,” said Mrs. Kaur firmly, and Robin recalled what Miss Morrissey had said about the assumptions made by men.”
― Freya Marske, A Marvellous Light