think?”
“And you must join us,” Mr. Sutherland said. “They are performing Twelfth Night this week, I believe, and Archer and I are planning to attend tomorrow night. I would be delighted to share my box with three lovely ladies.”
Lord Archer’s lip curled. “I heard it was a ridiculous, frothy spectacle.”
Anna laughed. “Well, we are probably all rather familiar with Twelfth Night , regardless of the quality of the performance. I daresay it’ll be more interesting to observe the audience.”
“Quite possibly, Miss Tomkins,” Mr. Sutherland said.
“Well, isn’t that generally the case at the theater?” Susan said.
“It is.” Mr. Sutherland turned to Isabelle. “But it seems you ladies have been without that singular experience for far too long. I do wish you would join us, and we’ll all inspect the crowd through our opera glasses while the actors make fools of themselves.”
“Oh, lovely!” Anna exclaimed.
“We would love to, Mr. Sutherland,” Susan said.
Isabelle sat mutely, terrified at the prospect. All those people seeing her with Lady DeLinn and Lord Archer… There was no doubt there would be whispers about her identity. And when Leo was released…
Mr. Sutherland smiled at her and said in a voice so low only she could hear, “You’re blushing, Miss Frasier.”
She fidgeted under his inspection as he added, “And it’s very charming, indeed.”
***
Leo fumed.
He knew what they were doing.
They had kept him alone all day in this damned, stinking cellar, with only Hercules as company, and they had done so deliberately to torture him.
Hercules did not qualify as company, for he refused to say a word to Leo. He came first to give Leo a breakfast of uninspiring porridge, and later to replace his basin of water and leave him a book.
The book was entitled Vindication of the Rights of Woman .
Upon reading the title, Leo’s first impulse had been to toss it across the room, but he was too practical to so quickly discard his only source of entertainment, as dull and as exasperating as it might be. Trust Lady M to give him one of the books he felt least inclined in this world to read. The rights of women, indeed.
It was late afternoon, and Leo had grown desperate enough to taunt the giant. He knew that the man felt nothing for Mistress Jane, and Leo couldn’t countenance the idea that it might be Belle for whom the giant was participating in this enterprise.
It had to be Lady M.
“So,” he asked conversationally, “tumbling our Lady M, are you?”
The giant did not speak, but his silence tautened as he lit the hanging lantern.
“Lady M, Lady M,” Leo mused. “I wish I could remember her deportment between the sheets. But then, all aristocratic ladies are bores to bed, don’t you find?”
Water sloshed in the basin as Hercules retrieved it. He walked out of the cellar, slamming the door behind him.
Leo smiled.
Hercules returned a few moments later with the fresh basin.
“It is deuced tiresome to bed a cold fish,” Leo continued as if the giant had never left. “But I’d wager she pays well. At least there’s that, eh, Hercules?”
Hercules set the basin at Leo’s feet. Water splashed over the lip.
Leo chuckled. “Tell me who she is, and I’ll advise you on how to bed her properly. My techniques can render even the most frigid of ladies—”
Hercules grabbed the collar of Leo’s shirt and lifted him off the chaise. His lips set in a ferocious grimace.
“You will pay for those insults, monsieur.” Hercules shoved him back onto the chaise, tramped out the door, and didn’t reappear for the remainder of the afternoon.
Leo rubbed his abused neck and stared up at the ceiling.
All day, the floorboards above him had creaked with movement, and the delicious smells of cooking food had wafted down into the cellar: sage and thyme, cinnamon and sugar. His stomach gurgled with longing.
Lady M must be having a soiree of some kind.
Belle was somewhere
“And you must join us,” Mr. Sutherland said. “They are performing Twelfth Night this week, I believe, and Archer and I are planning to attend tomorrow night. I would be delighted to share my box with three lovely ladies.”
Lord Archer’s lip curled. “I heard it was a ridiculous, frothy spectacle.”
Anna laughed. “Well, we are probably all rather familiar with Twelfth Night , regardless of the quality of the performance. I daresay it’ll be more interesting to observe the audience.”
“Quite possibly, Miss Tomkins,” Mr. Sutherland said.
“Well, isn’t that generally the case at the theater?” Susan said.
“It is.” Mr. Sutherland turned to Isabelle. “But it seems you ladies have been without that singular experience for far too long. I do wish you would join us, and we’ll all inspect the crowd through our opera glasses while the actors make fools of themselves.”
“Oh, lovely!” Anna exclaimed.
“We would love to, Mr. Sutherland,” Susan said.
Isabelle sat mutely, terrified at the prospect. All those people seeing her with Lady DeLinn and Lord Archer… There was no doubt there would be whispers about her identity. And when Leo was released…
Mr. Sutherland smiled at her and said in a voice so low only she could hear, “You’re blushing, Miss Frasier.”
She fidgeted under his inspection as he added, “And it’s very charming, indeed.”
***
Leo fumed.
He knew what they were doing.
They had kept him alone all day in this damned, stinking cellar, with only Hercules as company, and they had done so deliberately to torture him.
Hercules did not qualify as company, for he refused to say a word to Leo. He came first to give Leo a breakfast of uninspiring porridge, and later to replace his basin of water and leave him a book.
The book was entitled Vindication of the Rights of Woman .
Upon reading the title, Leo’s first impulse had been to toss it across the room, but he was too practical to so quickly discard his only source of entertainment, as dull and as exasperating as it might be. Trust Lady M to give him one of the books he felt least inclined in this world to read. The rights of women, indeed.
It was late afternoon, and Leo had grown desperate enough to taunt the giant. He knew that the man felt nothing for Mistress Jane, and Leo couldn’t countenance the idea that it might be Belle for whom the giant was participating in this enterprise.
It had to be Lady M.
“So,” he asked conversationally, “tumbling our Lady M, are you?”
The giant did not speak, but his silence tautened as he lit the hanging lantern.
“Lady M, Lady M,” Leo mused. “I wish I could remember her deportment between the sheets. But then, all aristocratic ladies are bores to bed, don’t you find?”
Water sloshed in the basin as Hercules retrieved it. He walked out of the cellar, slamming the door behind him.
Leo smiled.
Hercules returned a few moments later with the fresh basin.
“It is deuced tiresome to bed a cold fish,” Leo continued as if the giant had never left. “But I’d wager she pays well. At least there’s that, eh, Hercules?”
Hercules set the basin at Leo’s feet. Water splashed over the lip.
Leo chuckled. “Tell me who she is, and I’ll advise you on how to bed her properly. My techniques can render even the most frigid of ladies—”
Hercules grabbed the collar of Leo’s shirt and lifted him off the chaise. His lips set in a ferocious grimace.
“You will pay for those insults, monsieur.” Hercules shoved him back onto the chaise, tramped out the door, and didn’t reappear for the remainder of the afternoon.
Leo rubbed his abused neck and stared up at the ceiling.
All day, the floorboards above him had creaked with movement, and the delicious smells of cooking food had wafted down into the cellar: sage and thyme, cinnamon and sugar. His stomach gurgled with longing.
Lady M must be having a soiree of some kind.
Belle was somewhere
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