“People do not walk about the city in costume,” he says. “Have you ever seen such a thing?”
“Hey, I did when Mrs. Wallace dressed me up for the goblin market.”
“You were dressed in an unusual manner. Not a costume.”
“A bandanna and Stetson are practical fashion choices. Not a costume.”
“Ah, yes, shielding one’s face from the sun and sopping up sweat on one’s neck.” He peers up at the overcast sky. “Very practical here. I really must try it.”
“I will pay you to wear a Stetson.”
“You could not pay me enough.”
“No? You’re wearing a top hat, Duncan.”
His brows shoot up. “Excuse me?”
“Yes, it’s the fashion, which is why you are wearing it, but in my day, it’s a costume. Usually worn by magicians.”
His eyes narrow. “You do not like my hat?”
“I never said that. It actually suits you. I just keep expecting you to pull a rabbit out of it.”
“And what would you like me to wear instead?”
“A Stetson?”
He catches my grin and returns the smile with a shake of his head.
“My point,” I say, “is that, in my time, you would almost certainly see people in non-Scottish fashion in Scotland. They wear what they are accustomed to wearing, so my question about the Stetson and bandanna wouldn’t be that odd. I’ve seen them in Vancouver.” I tilt my head. “Although, usually they’re more of an affectation. Unless you’re in Alberta. Then they’re just fashion choices. I try not to judge.”
“Oh? Really?”
“I said I try, not that I don’t judge.”
A young man trips and brushes against me in his fall. I grab his hand as it slips into my pocket and say, “No,” the way I might to a misbehaving pup. He blinks at me and then blinks down at his hand, held in a vise grip. I give him a little push, say, “No,” again and keep walking.
Gray stops short, his gaze boring into the quickly retreating young man. “Did he try to pick your pocket?”
“Again, ‘try’ is the operative word. I handled it.” I tug Gray’s sleeve as he continues watching the young man as if ready to go after him. “Back to the cowboy. We have confirmed that men do not generally walk about dressed as cowboys.”
“Not unless they are in a performance.”
I slow, turning to look at him. “A performance . . .”
He waves a hand. “Play, entertainment, rodeo, whatever you would call it.”
“I slowed because that is the answer to this puzzle. While it wouldn’t be unheard of for an American to dress like that, the children didn’t mention an accent, which I think they would have if he had one. Why would a Scot dress like that? If he’s advertising a performance.” I smile at Gray. “I think we know where to start.”
We’ve retreated to the town house for lunch. The information we need can be found as easily over in the New Town, and while we’re both comfortable in the Old Town, it does require extra attention, as that would-be pickpocket proved.
The person we most hope to speak to is Isla. She’s very fond of plays and entertainments. She isn’t home, though—Jack says she’s at a charity luncheon. I remind myself that I really should offer to go to those with her. They’re a duty for a woman of her class and standing, but they aren’t much different from charity dinners in my day, when I’d rather just donate the money and skip the shindig. Isla feels the same. Her “charity” is a very different sort. But she pushes the boundaries in other ways, and so she’s careful to stay within them when she can. I should probably start doing the same, as much as it rankles. Unless having me along would only make things worse, with my strange in-between status and the rumors about me not really being Gray’s assistant.
Damn it. I need to fix this problem before it affects Isla and Gray. I need to find respectability, and if it was just a matter of acting like a lady, I could do that. I do that, in the right company. But then I hear the whispers and snickers about trained monkeys, how you can put them in little dresses and make them act like people, but they’ll always be trained monkeys.
We ask Jack about cowboys and entertainment. She doesn’t know of anything in the city right now. I remember that Wild West shows were popular entertainment in Victorian Britain, but I think I’m predating that. I did see them advertised in a recent American newspaper, and they seemed to be new. The only thing that has crossed the pond so far are tiny traveling troupes, nothing like the Buffalo Bill show to come. But according to Jack, there are none of those traveling troupes in Edinburgh right now.
