Page 15 of A Bonny Pretender
Chapter Four
Besotted by the Second Act
March 1820
Theatre Royale, Drury Lane
“We leave inten minutes,” announced Lady Brecken from the hall.
“I’ll be down before then, Evie.” Brigid sat down at her dressing table and unfolded the letter from Kirsty. She’d received and responded to two letters from Ma and one from her grandmother. This was the first from her sister-in-law, which was odd. She’d have thought Kirsty would have besieged her with correspondence.
Dear Brigid,
This damp castle is no’ the same without ye. I miss ye terribly, though my mother says it’s just my condition. It seems a bairn in yer belly makes ye weepy. Yes, ye read it correctly. I’m with child, and yer brother canna wipe the smile from his face. So now ye understand why I havena written. The nausea is easing, so I’ll do my best to make up for my inattention.
The MacNaughton has announced that if it’s a boy, he should be called Calum after the chief. I told him we’d consider it, but we all ken how persuasive he can be. Besides, yer grandfather is one of my favorite people, so I imagine there will be another Calum—or Calla, what do ye think?—toddling around here by next year.
I hope ye are adjusting well. Ye’re on my mind when my head isna in the chamber pot. Brownie moped for almost a week, then gave in to Liam’s affection. The hound is stuck to him like a bur in a horse’s tail. The lad has also been exercising yer pony and practicing with the bow. He’s calling himself Robin Hood and has taken to stealing baked goods from the kitchen to give to the poor… dogs. Enid yer cook says he’ll need all the Merry Men to rescue him if he lifts one more of her tarts.
Everyone sends their best. We’re sure all of London has fallen under yer charms. Sending ye hugs and kisses from yer family, human and furry.
All my love,
Kirsty
Brigid blinked as she folded the paper and tucked it back in the envelope. Not one tear had blurred her vision since she’d arrived, but a few words from home had her holding back a flood. She put on a bright smile, refusing to let the swirl of emotions inside take hold.
“I’m to be an auntie,” she informed Evie and Mr. Wilkens as she joined them in the hall. “Kirsty and Brodie will give us the first of a new generation.”
“Congratulations!” said Mr. Wilkens with a big smile.
“A baby! Oh, how I love babies,” gushed Evie, “though childbirth frightens me. You said she and her mother are healers, didn’t you? How helpful to have a knowledgeable mother by one’s side during such a time.”
“Enough about the trials of women. Shall we go?” asked Mr. Wilken, who had turned slightly pink at the mention of childbirth.
“Ye’re no’ squeamish are ye?” Brigid asked, feeling impish at the good news. “Have ye never helped one of yer horses or a dog give birth?”
“Egad, no! I leave that sort of thing to those more experienced.” He grinned. “I fulfill a much-needed role for my friends who cross the threshold to fatherhood.”
“What’s that?” asked Evie.
“I share a congratulatory bottle of fine French brandy.” With that, he ushered the ladies out the door and into the coach.
Brigid took a deep breath to slow her racing pulse. It was her first London performance,andLord Raines would be at the theater tonight. She wore a mazarine blue dress of silk with the sheerest silver gauze overlay. Her hair was swept up, with one long, twirling lock on the left. It fell almost to her collarbone and tickled her shoulder whenever she moved. Silver beads glittered in her hair, bringing out the streaks of deep ruby. A pewter pendant of the MacNaughton clan badge nestled just above her cleavage. She absently rubbed the round tower set in the silver circle, her thumb running along the engraved motto “I hope in God.” It had been her mother’s, given to her daughter as a going-away gift.
“Are you nervous?” asked Evie.
She nodded, watching the traffic through the open slats of the carriage window. Her fingers absently rubbed her grandmother’s stone. Brigid kept it in a pocket or her reticule at all times, reaching for it whenever she thought of her family or felt tense. She never took it out of the velvet pouch, afraid to drop and crack or break it.
“About the theater or seeing Lord Raines?” A hint of mischief shone in Evie’s light brown eyes.
“Both,” Brigid admitted with a laugh.
“So which Miss MacNaughton will be attending tonight’s performance? The shy and demure young lady or the independent, outspoken one?” Charles chuckled. “Have you ever thought of acting? I think you’d be quite successful.”
They turned onto Brydges Street, and the coach stopped in front of a large building with four rectangular pillars gracing the entrance. Windows lined the upper floor, and footmen waited to open carriage doors for the arrivals. Drury Lane wasn’t nearly as grand as she’d expected. A spacious hall led to the boxes and pit. From here, they entered an elegant rotunda. On the opposite side of this room was the grand saloon, and she tilted her head back to admire the intricate arched ceiling. On each end, two gigantic Corinthian columns of verd antique flanked a border of ten corresponding pillars on each side.
“Miss MacNaughton, may I say you are stunning tonight?” asked a deep voice.
