Morven’s smile turned gently reproving. “Kiera, we never outgrow an obligation to defend our family. You, of all people, know this.”
I sighed, conceding her point. “Yes, but you can’t deny that Alana takes greater offense than most.” I scowled. “And she’ll only see it as another stick to beat me with.”
We reached our destination before Morven could reply, but I trusted she would abide by my wishes. She might be closer in age to Alana—after all, they’d debuted together—but they had never deliberately allied against me. Perhaps because Morven also knew what it was like to be the youngest child. Her two older brothers had been protective of her throughout their childhood and, at times, still were.
I looked on as the two of them embraced and then teased each other mercilessly, as they’d always done. They tweaked each other’s curls and laughed over something one of their children had said.
Perhaps feeling they were leaving me out of the discussion, Morven turned to draw me closer. “Well, I’m glad to see Kiera looking so radiant. I’m sure I was never so in the pink when I was entering the final weeks of my confinements.” She smiled approvingly at Gage. “You must be taking good care of her.”
“Yes, but I do wish she would take it easier,” Alana interjected. “There’s no reason to go traipsing about town on walks as she does. Not with the cholera in the air.”
I frowned. “I hardly think a stroll through the Queen Street Gardens or a trip to the theater would be considered ‘traipsing about town.’” Particularly as those gardens were located less than a block from our town house. “In any case, Dr. Fenwick said physical activity is good for me and the babe. That there is no reason to fear catching the disease in a place like Queen Street, so long as I’m temperate and consume the correct diet.”
Alana’s mouth pursed. “Yes, well, of course I esteem Dr. Fenwick. He attended at the birth of my wee Jamie.”
And likely saved Alana’s life after a fraught and difficult delivery. Dr. Fenwick wasn’t considered one of Edinburgh’s finest physician accoucheurs without good reason, after all.
“But that doesn’t mean he knows everything.”
I bit my tongue, holding back an acerbic response. I knew Alana was merely apprehensive for me, especially after the trials she’d endured bringing her last two children into the world. It was the manner in which she was expressing those concerns that rubbed me raw. I’d grown tired of her brusque and disdainful comments, and if not for the flicker of the lights signaling the beginning of the third act, I might not have restrained myself.
But my nerves began to flutter in my stomach, recalling me to my dread of what was to come. I offered Morven a distracted farewell, then gripped Gage’s hand tightly in mine as the murmur of voices throughout the theater softened and the curtain began to rise.
Chapter 2
When the actress playing Lady Dalby strode onto the stage, I found myself holding my breath. Despite all the thrilling events that had come before—chases across rooftops, daggers drawn at a whisky drop, fisticuffs, and even a scene where Bonnie Brock and his men had eluded capture by wearing women’s clothing—this was the moment I was most anxious about. As the scene played out, I could feel some of the audience members in the boxes across the theater dividing their attention between watching me and watching the play. Thus I was determined to display no discernible reaction.
I was relieved to discover that the actress sported flaming red hair—nothing like my own more muted chestnut tresses. She also spoke with a slight Scottish brogue—one which I had never possessed. Mr. Gale, likewise, looked unlike Gage, with dark hair and a sartorial style that was far more ostentatious than my husband would ever adopt. I assumed that once again the theater was wisely observing their bottom line, eager to avoid any potential defamation lawsuits we might bring against the play.
Lady Dalby brazenly waltzed into Grassmarket seeking Bonnie Brock and demanding he answer her questions about his involvement with an investigation she and Mr. Gale were conducting. I found it curious that both the author and playwright had made this error, that neither knew that Bonnie Brock and I had first met when he had abducted me in my carriage. An event they would surely have made use of had they known. But that they did know our meeting had ended with the notorious criminal asking for my help in locating his sister, Maggie, who for all intents and purposes had been kidnapped.
In the course of lending Bonnie Brock our assistance, the play affectingly showed Bonnie Brock falling in love with Lady Dalby, while her affections were torn between the two very different men. In the end, once Maggie is saved, it’s clear Lady Dalby’s heart is inclined toward the criminal. But having realized he cannot protect her no matter how hard he might try, Bonnie Brock chooses not to fight for her and instead sends her away with Mr. Gale.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Gage scowling, not so much at the play as the sounds of a woman weeping in one of the boxes near ours. A swift glance around the theater showed me she wasn’t the only person moved. Several ladies dabbed at their eyes with their handkerchiefs. If nothing else, the Theatre Royal’s rendition of Bonnie Brock’s story had cemented him in the minds of many as some sort of dashing and roguish tragic hero. A fact that Gage was obviously displeased by.
For my own part, I felt conflicted as I allowed Gage to escort me from the box after the play ended. On the one hand, this version of the story had downplayed some of the more scandalous implications made about our relationships with Bonnie Brock, but on the other, it had also left out many of the more dangerous and unsavory truths about the criminal and his gang of cutthroats. Neither the book nor this play was a true representation of Bonnie Brock or his life, and within that fiction lay the seeds of trouble.
I schooled my features into an expression of bland courtesy as we approached the lobby of the theater, where the mass of society streaming from their boxes congregated to wait for their carriages. Recognizing the need for Gage to remain by my side, Philip peeled off to collect our party’s wrappings. But even with my husband and sister flanking me, they could not shield me from the slings and arrows of whispered speculation and disapproving glares.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at one such matron, who had been rather infamous in her younger days for her number of affaires de coeur. It was all quite ridiculous how society believed what it wished to and conveniently forgot what it did not. If I’d learned anything from my time spent with the Duchess of Bowmont, it was that society would write your narrative unless you refused to let them. While my feelings about the duchess and her family were conflicted after the murder investigation we’d conducted at their estate in January, I had to agree she knew how to weather a scandal and turn it to one’s advantage.
My gaze snagged on the form of a man standing across the lobby. I pulled Gage and Alana to a stop as the man passed behind a pillar, trying to locate him again, wondering if my eyes deceived me. My nerves tightened at the possibility that he might be here, that I’d practically conjured him with my thoughts of his mother, and yet Lord Henry had not sought us out as he’d promised to do. As he promised to do months ago.