“Before he fell off the cliff?” Conbatten said, with what Viola was certain was a snort of laughter.
“He threw himself off, Your Grace,” Miss Mayton said. “He very determinedly flung himself.”
Viola leaned forward to watch Lord Baderston enter the pit. It seemed she was not alone in noticing that he’d gone there to confront the shouter. Others were leaning over their boxes and watching him too.
Lord Baderston pushed through the crowd, seeming to know precisely where he was going.
Just then, a fellow seemed particularly struck to see Lord Baderston heading in his direction. The man turned on his heel and began to push through the other people to get away.
“Do not dare run from me, you rogue!” Lord Baderston shouted.
Viola sighed. He was magnificent.
*
Roland had beenscanning the crowd, looking for anyone who might cause trouble. He’d already shamed one young gentleman who had been glancing at Lady Viola’s box and whispering to a friend.
When that fool had looked about, Roland had very determinedly caught his eye and given him a deadly stare. The fellow had pinked and turned away.
Everyone was to know—the Benningtons were not without friends.
Between threatening stares, he found time to look over at Lady Viola’s box. Conbatten and his duchess were there, and the duke was looking suitably grim.
Squinting and using his good eye, Roland was able to satisfy himself that no other lady in the theater, or in all of England, could hold a candle to Lady Viola.
She sat very regal, with her head held high. She wore a white silk dress with delicate yellow daisies round the neckline and the message was not lost on him. Daisies for innocence.
Well done, Lady Viola.
He forced himself to look elsewhere as to not be unseemly about it. Then, his eyes settled on Mr. Berger. Roland did not like Mr. Berger. Mr. Berger was the son of a baron and formed along the same lines as Chelderberry. Too unseasoned, lacking in correct instincts, thinking himself a wit, and somehow very crass.
He watched Mr. Berger talk to his companion, smirking and looking up at Lady Viola’s box. Then he ribbed his friend and shouted, “Does anybody know where the tinker’s boy has got to?”
Roland was out of his box like a shot. He raced down the stairs and into the pit. He pushed his way through the crowd.
Mr. Berger saw him coming, and no doubt noted his rage. He turned and attempted to escape.
There would be no escape for Mr. Berger.
Roland was vaguely aware that the chase was becoming a spectacle, as people were shouting to him about which way Mr. Berger went.
He was not enthusiastic about garnering so much attention, but there was no turning back now.
If the crowd were to be relied upon, Mr. Berger was heading out of the theater. The coward.
Roland redoubled his efforts. He was helped along by those in the pit who would be amused to see him catch up with Mr. Berger.
That fellow had just burst out the doors and into the saloon, no doubt headed for the street.
Roland followed him just as fast.
*
Viola had justwatched Lord Baderston chase through the pit after a gentleman she did not know. That fellow had been the horrible shouter—how ghastly that someone who did not even know her made public comment on their opinion of her.
She was all but certain that Lord Baderston was just now in another boxing match. When she’d thought of him proving his loyalty, she had not considered the toll it might take on his physical person.
“Young men these days,” the earl said, shaking his head.
