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First published February 14, 2019

For over seventeen hundred and fifty years, ever since the great Boudicca herself had sent the Romans fleeing Angland with the help of her second husband’s magery, a clearly defined line had been drawn in the public arena, never to be broken. The hard-headed ladies of Angland saw to the practicalities of rule whilst the more mystical and emotional gentlemen dealt with magic.In this magical, alternative-history version of England, called Angland, traditional roles are genderbent: the women handle politics and rule the country, while men are the magicians. For many years Cassandra Harwood was the only female magician in Angland, a single exception to a fixed tradition that many in power regret having allowed. Cassandra is still kicking against the rules of society, even though she can no longer exercise her magical powers due to a deeply regretted choice in her past. But Cassandra recovered from her disappointment at her loss of magic and, following the maxim that “those who cannot do, teach,” she is now scandalizing society in a brand new way by setting up a College of Magic for young women at her ancestral home, Thornfell. Even if she’s teaching most of the classes herself and only has nine students, she feels strongly about giving magically-gifted young women the chance to exercise their talents.
Given the circumstances, I’m sure no one will question your virtue if you choose to stay in Thornfell with the rest of us tonight. We’ll find you a room well away from any ladies, with a door that locks firmly from the inside.While he appreciates others’ concerns, he bravely carries on (“With a married gentleman in residence, my reputation should be safe enough”).
I said briskly, "Never mind. Given the circumstances, I'm sure no one will question your virtue if you choose to stay in Thornfell with the rest of us tonight. We'll find you a room well away from any ladies, with a door that locks firmly from the inside.
"Or you could sleep at Harwood House," Jonathan asked, "if you're concerned about your reputation."
"No." Lutton drew himself up, giving his cottage one last, wistful look before turning to Thornfell with squared shoulders. "I shan't desert my post. Besides, Mr. Wrexham will be sleeping in Thornfell tonight. With a married gentleman in residence, my reputation should be safe enough.