Theodora

by Christina McKnight

  The carriage his sister rode in slipped into an opening, the conveyances ahead thinning, leaving Alistair and Abel stuck between a cart loaded with fruits and vegetables and a phaeton driven by a man wearing the most obnoxious coat of deep plum—a feather of all things in his hat.

  “You, sir!” Abel called to the man driving the cart. “Where is everyone headed?”

  The man glanced at Alistair’s carriage, eyes narrowing to see within the dim interior to who had called for his attention. “It be da first day of the Grand Archers’ Competition of London.” He lost his Cockney accent as he pronounced each word. “Every’ne be going ta Greenwich Park.”

  Alistair sat back in the carriage, allowing the velvet seats to comfort his irritated soul; confident he now knew where the women were headed and what their plans were.

  “Price,” Abel called, leaning farther out the window. “Their carriage is moving out of sight. Do something, or we will never find them.”

  The worry in his brother’s voice matched the dread filling Alistair. “Sit back,” he said. “They are on their way to the tourney.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “To compete, naturally.” At Abel’s puzzled stare, Alistair continued. “Our dear sister has been sneaking about London, practicing with a bow and arrow—she’s actually quite good.” Not as skilled at Theo, but Alistair needn’t share that tidbit.

  “Adeline? Outdoors? I do not believe it.” Abel shook his head.

  “Believe it,” Alistair commented.

  “Why did she not include me?” he asked, wounded. “She confides in you—not thinking that I would gladly have accompanied her. She would not be in the trouble she is now, and I may have taught her a few new tricks.”

  “She did not ‘confide in me,’ as you say. And Adeline would likely teach you a thing or two.” Alistair waved off his brother’s glare. “She has been practicing for years, or so Lady Theodora Montgomery informed me.”

  Abel’s brow drew low in confusion as the carriage took a sharp turn, casting both men to the side as it straightened out and gained speed.

  “Adeline’s friend.”

  “And you have spoken to her?” Abel’s brow rose.

  “Yes, I was forced to call on her this morning when Adeline went missing.” It was all Alistair was willing to share on the subject. He’d thought he and the woman had come to some sort of agreement to keep Adeline out of trouble, but, apparently, he’d misjudged their conversation. “She was of little help but to inform me that Adeline would likely be home safely before I returned.”

  Abel wasn’t convinced or satisfied by his answer, but something else caught his notice. “Lady Theodora Montgomery?”

  “Yes, she attended Miss Emmeline’s with Adeline. Why?”

  “As in Lady Theodora Montgomery, the only sister of Lord Cartwright, Simon Montgomery—known to his friends and associates as Cart?” Abel didn’t take a breath between words. “Lord Cartwright, who currently holds the title of acting curator at the British Museum?”

  “The one and only…” Alistair confirmed, watching the wheels spin and the dots connect in his brother’s mind.

  “You must introduce me.” A spark entered Abel’s eye at the thought. “I have been about the museum since our arrival in London and haven’t secured so much as a glimpse of the man.”

  “I am not acquainted with Lord Cartwright as yet.” He despised dashing his brother’s hopes, but there was no cause to allow him to think Alistair could help him in his quest to secure a position.

  “But you know his sister, correct?” Abel persisted.

  “I have met her on occasion since Adeline’s return home, yes.” Pressed his lips to hers, and dreamed of her every night since.

  Abel clapped his hands as if the situation were resolved and his future bright. “Splendid.”

  “I do not understand what you speak of.”

  “You will introduce me to Lady Theo,” Abel said slowly as if his brother had gone daft.

  “For?”

  “Why, I will court her—meet her brother—charm them with my intellect, and I will have a position at the museum before the season ends.”

  Alistair’s nostrils flared as a spike of jealousy coursed through him, setting his skin on fire. “You most certainly will not court Theo—Lady Theodora. You have little interest in marriage.”

  “But if playing the doting suitor will gain me what I want, what is the harm?” Abel asked.

  “And you are resigned to marrying the chit?” His final word stuck in his throat, knowing Theo was much more than another chit making her first introduction to society.

  “Certainly, if that is what it takes—unless she is hideous to look at…” He paused, his eyes growing round. “Tell me she is not revolting—long in the face and portly around the middle!”

  If they’d been speaking of any other woman than Lady Theo, Alistair might have found the jest in his brother’s words, but they most certainly were not speaking of any other woman.

  Abel was making light of Lady Theo—and Alistair had half a mind to reach across the carriage and knock the smile from his brother’s face.

  Instead, he counted to five to tamp down his irritation at the subject of using Theo for her connection to the museum.

  “She is most assuredly not revolting to look at,” Alistair said once he’d deemed his anger had receded. “I do not know her well, but she is intelligent, witty, and…” He hadn’t any idea how to capture all that was Lady Theo in simple words. The notion of sharing with Abel the softness of her lips was highly improper. “She is Adeline’s dear friend.”

  And, therefore, off-limits to Alistair.

  And Abel.

  For so many reasons other than her bond with Adeline.

  “Interesting.” Abel looked out the window. “We are almost to Greenwich Park. Can you believe I have never attended an archery tourney? Haven’t so much as picked up a bow since we were children.”

  The area was crowded with pedestrians entering the park, street vendors hocking their wares, and carriages depositing spectators. He spotted several men moving through the crowd, their bows and quivers slung over their shoulders. The competition would be far larger than the one he’d narrowly lost in Whitechapel—which meant a greater risk of Lady Theo and the others being recognized.

  When had Lady Theo and her reputation become more important to Alistair than Adeline’s chances of suffering a tragic season at the cold, merciless hands of the gossip rags?

  “Oh, how have I not realized that Adeline is the fun sibling, and not you, Price?” Abel asked, leaning so far out the window Alistair feared he’d topple from the moving carriage. “A meal and card game at White’s cannot compare to an archery tourney at Greenwich Park.”

  Alistair covered his face with his hands in surrender, the faint smell of livestock filling his nostrils from their time at Tattersall’s. His entire family was beyond hope, him included.

  Is this what the decade would entail? Chasing his wayward siblings through the London streets, each determined to ruin themselves and their futures?

  “There it is!” Abel shouted, looking over his shoulder at Alistair.

  “What, dear brother? Ruination? Scandal? The Melton family disgrace?” He was certain these should not be visible to the eye, but alas, Alistair was far from believing they were not, indeed, tangible things. “Because I see all of those crashing down upon us.”

  “No,” Abel fell back into his seat with a satisfied grin. “The carriage! I found the carriage carrying Adeline. It is stopped ahead, outside the park.”

  “Wonderful.” Alistair longed to pack up his entire lot of siblings and move back to their father’s country estate—marriage, futures, society be damned. It all took far more effort than he’d bargained for.

  Chapter 16

  “I did not think there would be so many people,” Josie squeaked, pushing closer to Theo, increasing the strength of her grip on her arm. Theo could almost feel the woman’s nails through
her cloak. “Mayhap I should wait in the carriage.”

  “That is not safe,” Theo chastised. “We stay together, as planned.”

  “There are not so many people,” Adeline proclaimed. “Maybe a hundred more than Whitechapel, but with the practice, we’ve been doing each morning, I have little doubt we will be victorious.” She glanced to Georgie with a smirk. “Or at least I shall be.”

  Adeline’s confidence could be seen in the set of her shoulders and the defiant tilt of her chin. However, images and feelings from their last tourney assaulted Theo at every turn. She looked at the passing men from under her hood, searching for the man who’d attempted to harm her—she was ready for him this time. He would not overpower her, nor get his grimy hands on her friends. The likelihood that the miscreant had found the means to travel from Whitechapel to Greenwich Park was slim.

  Nevertheless, Theo was alert and watching for anything untoward that could befall her friends—and herself.

  Adeline and Georgie stood in front of her and Josie, waiting their turn to give their names and entrance fees for the Grand Archers’ Competition of London. The line was longer than Theo had anticipated, and she wondered how so many archers were to cast their arrow before the sun began to set on the first day of the competition. If she weren’t home by dark, Cart and Jude would be alarmed and ask questions.

  A man made to leave after handing over his fee, his bow and quiver slung over his shoulder as he strode back down the line of waiting archers, inspecting each as he passed.

  “Oh, he does look fearsome,” Josie commented as the man grew closer.

  “And ever so handsome,” Georgie cooed.

  “He would certainly have us think so.” Adeline adjusted her stance, hitching her bow up on her shoulder as she leveled a glare on the man from beneath her cloak.

  Unfortunately, the man slowed as he came closer to the hooded foursome—taking pause a few feet away to take a closer look. Had he been in attendance at the Whitechapel tourney? The man was not familiar, though that did not account for much as she’d been distracted by Alistair the entire time.

  Regret flared within her at the thought of Adeline’s elder brother—and her agreement to keep his younger sister out of trouble, knowing the entire time she was to travel to Greenwich for another tourney that same afternoon. Adeline was going to come—and compete—no matter what Theo did or said, so the least she could do was attend and make sure Adeline remained safe and anonymous.

  And Theo was committed to doing that.

  The man continued to stare, turning his head at an odd angle, trying to gain sight of their faces below their hoods. His quiver slipped from his shoulder.

  Theo knew for certain that unless one of their hoods slipped, their faces were completely covered—their cloaks ending at the ground, shielding even their boots from sight.

  With a sigh of relief from Josie, who’d stiffened beside her at the man’s intense scrutiny, the archer moved down the row, giving the next archer his intimidating stare as he hoisted his quiver back to his shoulder.

  “That was close,” Georgie said over her shoulder.

  “Move up,” a gruff voice called from behind them.

  Something bumped Theo’s shoulder, and her hood fell back a few inches as her hands flew from her pockets to return it to its place.

  They shuffled forward in line, and Theo returned her hand to her pocket and the velvet pouch nestled within that held enough coin for Adeline’s and Georgie’s entrance fees.

  “Do ye think one of ‘em be the Lady Archer who won at Whitechapel?” a female voice hissed behind them.

  Theo looked to Josie, but the woman remained oblivious to the conversation behind them.

  “It canna be,” a man retorted. “It surely only be some’ne seek’n ta copy ‘er.”

  Standing on her tiptoes, Theo noticed the line in front of them was shortening, and it would be Adeline’s and Georgie’s time very soon, she only hoped the pair could keep their boasting to a minimum long enough to keep attention from them.

  Obviously, everyone in London was still abuzz with tales of the Lady Archer. News circulated in The Post the very next day about the mysterious Lady Archer winning the tourney in Whitechapel and disappearing as quickly as she had appeared—with the writer making it known he would discover her identity, and even pondering the notion the cloak had shrouded a petite male. Theo had laughed at that—hysterically—but also hoped the report took hold and distracted the London gossips long enough for them to win at Greenwich Park and disappear once more. Surely, they would continue to practice—and maybe even compete—but more as was proper for young ladies of the ton. Archery was meant to be a pastime enjoyed by women at garden parties and country house parties, not for monetary benefit and at the expense of men who’d trained their entire lives for competition—as Mr. Price had so willingly told her.

  Theo knew well and good her actions—and that of her friends—would be met with scorn and disgrace if the ton ever found out. They were all in jeopardy of being exposed, their reputations tarnished beyond repair. But they hadn’t found any other financial means to help Miss Emmeline. Georgie, while the daughter of a wealthy duke, had been limited to a small allowance since the new duchess was currently with child. Cart and Jude were still working to repair the ruined financial situation their uncle had left them all in years before after making off with everything of value from the Cartwright Earldom. They’d known from the start that Adeline, her aging father already struggling to maintain a family with nine children, would dedicate her skill at archery in lieu of money to help Miss Emmeline. And Josie’s family was worse off than Theo and Cart had been in their lowest hour—and even if her family had the funds, the woman would expire from terror asking her guardian for even the smallest allowance.

  They hadn’t any other option if they wanted to support a school that had given them so much—as well as each other. It was their hope Miss Emmeline’s would remain and be a place they’d send their own daughters to, to learn and grow, but that would be impossible if the buildings themselves crumbled and deteriorated.

  An archer bumped into Adeline, pushing her bow from her shoulder. As she leaned over, her hood caught on her quiver, pulling the material back and revealing her crown of pale, golden hair.

  Theo reached forward and easily tugged the hood back into place.

  They were risking much by being here—flirting with danger—but none of them were prepared to take danger’s hand and allow it to lead them to certain ruination. Certainly, it would never come to that.

  “Maybe we should not be here,” Georgie whined. Her confidence only fled her when it came to competition—and singing. “My father would be angered so if he found out.”

  “And your evil mother, the duchess, would delight in anything that would send you away again,” Adeline said, knowing it would bring back Georgie’s resolve. “Where is the girl who proudly sang her heart out on her first day at Miss Emmeline’s school, knowing her voice broke at every turn, never hitting a single note correctly?”

  Theo wanted to laugh, but Adeline was being mean-spirited—to rile Georgie’s aggression toward her new stepmother.

  They’d all done their best when Headmistress had pushed them to ply their talents before their new classmates. All except Adeline; though Josie, Georgie, and Theo hadn’t been present to see their friend scoff at being made to perform like a common circus animal.

  “My singing voice is heavenly,” Georgie challenged, her stern tone calling to Adeline to deny it.

  “Now it is,” Adeline conceded. “But there was a day when your voice mimicked the dying cries of an infected alley cat.”

  “Adeline,” Josie hissed. “That was rude and uncalled for.”

  Theo gave Josie’s arm a reassuring squeeze, letting her know she agreed with her comment and was proud she’d spoke up in Georgie’s defense.

  “Let us quiet down.” Theo kept her voice low. “We do not want to draw any more attention than we already h
ave.”

  “I cannot go anywhere without undue attention lavished upon me,” Adeline giggled. “It is the burden I am cursed to bear all my days. It is difficult for any person—man or woman—to keep from staring.”

  “You’re cursed, all right,” Theo mumbled under her breath, rewarded when Josie stifled a laugh.

  Georgie threw an exasperated glance in Josie’s direction in response to Adeline’s haughty tendencies. Again, Theo returned to her place on the outside of the group. She felt the same vexation at Adeline’s arrogant comments, yet neither woman looked to her.

  “Step up, archers,” a man called, his looming form and obvious musculature spoke of his athletic nature. “Pay your fee and move on to the practice area.”

  Georgie and Adeline stepped to the table, a simple rough plank of wood supported by two large tree stumps, and gave their names as Lady Archer One and Lady Archer Two. The man turned an intense stare on the pair, trying to see their features below their hoods. As planned, Georgie lowered her gaze to the table, decreasing the risk of the man seeing her face; however, Adeline tilted her chin up slightly, allowing the afternoon sun to reflect off one golden lock that had escaped its confines beneath her cloak.

  He seemed satisfied with the small glimpse he’d gotten and the names provided. “Fees please,” he said, holding his palm out.

  Theo reached between the pair and dropped the velvet bag into the man’s hand, as it held only enough for their entrance fees and not a pence more. She ducked her own head as the man stared, and she jerked her hand back, crossing her arms.

  “Only two entries?” He opened the pouch and poured the coins into his other hand, counting them twice before throwing them into a large pail next to the table. When Adeline nodded, he continued, “You are archers number one hundred and ninety-nine and two hundred. We are anticipating three hundred archers to compete over the next three days. The practice area is that way.” He pointed to a large, open, grassy area to his left—the area already filled to bursting with archers and targets. “Move along and await your numbers to be called.”