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India shook her head. “I’ll be narrating the scene. No... I need someone with a powerful presence... and a pretty ankle.”
“Have you seen my ankles? They’re scrawny as chicken bones.”
India laughed. “I have seen your ankles, in Edgar’s library, remember? And do you seriously believe what you’re saying? If you knew the power you could wield over men you’d be dangerous.”
“Nonsense.”
“I know a regal queen when I see one.”
“Have you forgotten that I must care for the children tonight?”
“But they’re already in the scene.” India placed her hands on Mari’s shoulders. “Just stand there, the children will wave their palm fronds, I’ll explain your history, and the curtain will drop.”
“I don’t know. I may become nervous and freeze up with all of those eyes on me.” With Edgar’s eyes on her.
The butterflies came back with a vengeance. They seemed to think they were elephants.
“That’s perfect! It’s a frozen tableau. You won’t even have to move. What could possibly go wrong?”
“Where have you been?” India asked, her eyes flashing as she met Edgar at the door. “They’re getting restless.”
“At The Vulcan. Working on the steam engine.” Avoiding certain redheaded temptations.
Robertson divested Edgar of his coat and hat, while India tapped her foot impatiently. “Hurry up, if you please,” she said.
“What the devil are you wearing?” He peered at India’s garb which was outlandish, even for her. A gown made of thick, gray-green cotton with a pelisse made of thin brown leather over the top, cinched under her bosom with a leather belt.
“It’s what I wear when I’m at an archaeological dig.”
“Are those hessian boots?” he asked, noting the leather tassels visible beneath the hem of her skirt.
“I had your boot maker design some in my size. What the devil areyouwearing? I told you to look ducal.”
“Don’t press your luck. This is as ducal as I get. I’m never dressing in fashionable finery again. Not after what happened when I took Lady Blanche riding. Everyone thinks I’m on the marriage mart now. It was a total disaster.”
India smiled. “You are on the marriage mart. Don’t you recall our wager? I intend to collect.”
“Wasn’t that a joke?”
“Don’t you know me by now? I take my gambling seriously.”
Edgar regarded his traitorous sister. “You didn’t put West up to the whole scheme with Blanche and Laxton, did you?”
“That’s too complicated, even for me. Now please hurry.” She shoved a piece of paper into his hands. “Your introduction.”
Leaving him no time to read the paper, she pulled him into the salon.
The room had been transformed in his absence. Blue curtains sprinkled with gold stars draped the ceiling and fell on either side of a small, enclosed wooden stage constructed on one end of the room.
The guests were looking very uncomfortable, reclining on velvet cushions and Persian carpets in front of the makeshift stage.
“You removed all of the furniture?” Edgar whispered. “You’re forcing dukes to sit on cushions? Ravenwood looks ominous.”
“He always looks ominous. That’s his natural expression.”
Mari and the children were nowhere to be seen.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lady Blanche sitting with an older woman. Why was she here? And no Laxton in sight. Warning bells rang in his mind.
