Page 90 of Hit Me With Your Best Scot
“Get us some Bow Street Runners,” Coll broke in, “and we’ll tell the lot of ye. But away from this.” He gesturedtoward the crowd behind them, a good third of the audience trying to reach the stage and a second third fleeing, while the last third simply stood and stared. “And one of ye find Jenny Rogers. She’s likely in a crate somewhere backstage.”
“Yes. Boys, clear the theater!” Huddle yelled, and the stagehands and actors hopped off the stage to begin herding people toward the doors at the theater’s front. “Gordon—Lawrence—find Jenny.”
“Very effective,” Niall noted, eyeing the flood of people leaving the audience.
“We practice this in case of a fire,” Huddle muttered, color beginning to return to his face. “I never… She tried tokillyou, Persie.”
“So did Clive,” Coll added with a growl.
Huddle turned to look at where the actor stood between Aden and Angus with a defiant look on his face. Walking forward, the theater’s manager faced him. “I wondered why you asked to join the Saint Genesius and then declined any part other than the most minor one in the play,” he said, hands on his hips. Then, abruptly, he jabbed out with his fist, catching Montrose in the jaw. “Traitor.”
Once a trio of Runners arrived, Coll and Temperance told her story, with a great deal of dramatic help from the scattering of actors remaining. They had to do it again when a judge walked onto the stage in the company of Lady Aldriss, and by then it had practically taken on a life of its own.
Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, Coll took Temperance’s hand in his. “Let’s get ye home, my lass.”
She leaned against his shoulder. “If my parents weren’t here, they’ll certainly have heard the tale by morning,” she said, her voice thin.
“They were here,” Eloise said, taking Temperance’sother hand as they walked toward the rear of the stage. “I saw them. I think they were swept out with the rest of the audience.”
“Sleep first. Then we’ll settle with them,” he said. He disliked seeing her look so fragile.
“Yes. Sleep first.”
She fell asleep in the coach before they’d even started moving. Coll carried her upstairs to her bedchamber, locked the door on all offers of assistance, undressed her himself, and covered her in soft blankets before he stripped out of his clothes and joined her. After tonight, he didn’t much care who knew what. All that mattered was that he wasn’t going to bed or waking up without her by his side ever again.
Chapter Twenty
“O Scotland, Scotland!”
MACDUFF,MACBETHACT IV, SCENE III
“We want to see our daughter,” Lady Bayton insisted, a handkerchief going to the corner of her eye again. “We haven’t set eyes on our darling in eight years, Lady Aldriss.”
Francesca glanced at Coll, who nodded. He’d seen enough to assess precisely who the Marquis and Marchioness of Bayton were, and to be perfectly satisfied that Temperance had described them accurately.
“Very well,” the countess said. “If you don’t mind, Coll?”
He pushed to his feet and walked to the library door. Temperance stood in the hallway, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she did before she began a performance. “I’ll still happily throw ye over my shoulder and ride with ye to the Highlands,” he suggested quietly.
“No. I made my identity public to make me—and everyone else—safe from any more plotting. This needs to be done. I need to do this.”
She nudged him sideways and walked past him into the Oswell House library. Her parents both shot to their feet, coming toward her until she put up a hand.
“Do not,” she said calmly. “I only agreed to see you to tell you what I wish I’d had the strength to do eight yearsago. I do not want your money. I do not yearn for a title or a lord with influence. I do not intend to manipulate any said lord into gaining more power or influence. What I am going to do is marry Coll MacTaggert, Lord Glendarril. And I am going to continue performing onstage for at least the remainder of this Season and through the next, because I have a signed contract saying that I will. I do not care if you’re ashamed of me or mortified that your own reputations will be damaged. I thank you for keeping me fed and clothed, and for paying for my education. And that is all I have to say to you.”
Her words were measured and calm. Coll was damned proud of her. When the one hand she held behind her back waved at him frantically, he took a step forward and grasped it, squeezing her fingers gently.
“But you are our daughter,” her mother countered. “There are familial obligations, and promises that have been made, not to mention the… upset you have caused us. Eight years, Temperance! And now we find you on astage? Acting?It’s enough to overset a saint.”
“According to the newspaper,” her father took up, “your home was burned. Certainly, we can help you rebuild, after which we can speak again about your future. You’re no longer a debutante, after all, but I believe we can do better than a viscount from Scotland. The—”
“Who the devil are these powdery daisies?” Lord Aldriss demanded, walking into the room. “Did I hear them insult my son and heir? Do ye ken what we do in Scotland when a man insults another man in his own house? We feed him to our dogs! And in Scotland, we have bloody big dogs—big as sheep, they are. Damn ye, whoever ye are, and get out of my house before I put a boot in yer arse!”
“What my husband is saying,” Lady Aldriss took up, “is that your daughter has stated her intention to marry ourson and has quite plainly informed you that she no longer wishes to be part of your lives. I therefore suggest you go, before you do find a Scottish boot in your arse.”
Like all Sassenachs, they had a fine talent for words and arguments and contracts and agreements. Threats of physical violence, though, wound them up like tops and sent them reeling. Still stammering their indignation, they allowed Smythe to usher them out the front door.
“Well, that was something,” Francesca said faintly. “Dogs as big as sheep?”
