Chapter 3
Chapter Three
She was absolutely brilliant. Some might claim–magnificent. And they wouldn’t be wrong.
Cordell stood with the rest of the roaring applause from the rest of the assemblage as the curtains were drawn at the end of the play.
He had attended tonight out of more than just curiosity about Miss Sims. He had intended to keep a sharp eye on the crowd lest someone seem suspicious or out of place.
He had discovered that some mass murderers revisited a crime scene in order to recreate the moment of an attack.
Not necessarily to strike at the same place again, but to absorb the atmosphere around them to prepare for the next assault.
However, it wasn’t long before Cordell’s attention had been diverted to the play where it remained until intermission.
At that point, he knew it was too late to attempt to find a possible target, the killer likely already taking his leave.
But at least Cordell was able to enjoy the rest of the play without further concern.
And he’d found it more than riveting. He’d never been a fan of Shakespeare’s writing.
He knew the bard was deserving of praise for his timeless works, but romantic tales of tragedy were not really of particular interest to him.
Gothic novels were the same. He would much prefer to expend his reading time by studying philosophy or astrology.
However, he had to offer a grudging admiration for the passion in which Miss Sims portrayed half of the main character of Juliet.
Romeo paled in comparison to her dramatic reenactment and when she died at the end, Cordell was surrounded by several female sniffles.
A few gentlemen had dabbed at their eyes with their handkerchiefs as well.
Thus, his hands came together with just as much enthusiasm as the rest of the crowd and when the cast returned for a final bow, several flowers were tossed on stage to celebrate the moment.
He saw the brilliant flash of white on Aislynn’s face, but while it might not be readily apparent to the rest of the audience, Cordell noticed the lines of strain around the edge of her mouth and the happiness that was reflected on her face but did not fully reach her dulled eyes.
His jaw clenched because he knew that this evening must have been terribly difficult for her, yet what other choice did she have but to cater to the needs of the guests seated in this very auditorium?
Cordell told himself that it wasn’t his business to get involved, but when he turned to go, he overheard a gentleman’s conversation and he knew he couldn’t ignore such a slight in all good conscience. “I intend to offer Miss Sims the honor of being my new mistress.”
“Let us hope she is sensible enough to thank her good fortune that you have selected her for the position. Just remember not to keep her all to yourself. I enjoy playing with your castoffs but I might make an exception for this particular talented actress. It might be good bed sport with her between us in the sheets.”
A chortle was the only reply as the voices faded, but not because they moved away.
It had more to do with Cordell’s desire to blot out their torrid conversation.
He might be a libertine as well, but he knew what was an inappropriate way to treat a lady.
She might not be highborn, but she deserved the same respect.
It was that marked difference in how women were treated in upper and lower classes that annoyed him most of all.
More than once, at Mary’s establishment, he'd been forced to intervene when one of the patrons had too much to drink and decided that he paid for more than sex with one of the girls, that he had the right to treat her in any manner he chose.
Cordell had stopped a flying arm from striking out while allowing his to offer an alternative before they were tossed out into the street on their despicable arse.
He saw the two men disappear backstage along one side of the curtain while he headed along another.
The moment he stepped beyond the crowd, he realized that this was where the real work began.
Set pieces were being rearranged and lighting and ropes were being adjusted.
Orders were being tossed back and forth from the crew while the performers rushed back to their rooms to remove the remnants of the evening.
He was almost upon Miss Sims' room when he was nearly run over by a familiar brunette. She was the one who had been sitting with the famed actress the night before, although he hadn’t been able to tell at the time who might have been consoling who.
“Oh! Pardon me, sir—” Her eyes instantly widened when she recognized him. “Mr. Steele!”
“Good evening.” He glanced toward his target, but the door was still slightly open, and all he could hear was the sound of murmured voices from within. Nothing to alarm him as yet.
“I told Aislynn that you were here tonight.”
He lifted a brow. “Did you? I am sure she was thoroughly impressed.”
“Not particularly.”
He had the urge to smile, because she obviously didn’t catch the sarcasm he’d attempted to portray into his statement. Very poorly, it would seem.
“I am a huge admirer.”
“Of murderers?” he countered dryly.
She appeared affronted. “Of course not. I meant your expertise.”
He smiled tightly. He had never been very adept at accepting praise when he felt as though he continued to fail at every turn.
Not only would another murder take place, but he had yet to find out why his father had acted so rashly.
“I have yet to discover who was responsible for Miss Adams’ demise, so it seems I have not uncovered as much as I might want. ”
“I have no doubt you will, given enough time.”
Cordell thought he heard the elevated voice of Miss Sims. “Perhaps. If you will excuse me?”
He didn’t wait for a reply as he opened the door to Miss Sims' dressing room. Inside he found the two scoundrels had circled around Miss Sims chair like a pair of vultures closing in on their prey. However, it didn’t take him long to discern that the victims in this instance were the predators.
She held a small dagger at the center of one man’s crotch.
His face had leeched of all color as she said, “I said that I am not interested in your proposal. Now, please leave this room before I change your sex permanently.”
Cordell wanted to applaud her actions. They were nearly as impressive as her efforts on stage.
He stepped to the side as she removed her dagger, and the man adjusted his jacket cuffs and breezed by in a huff, his cohort following close behind.
After they were gone, he looked at Miss Sims, who acknowledged his presence before she turned back around to face the mirror. “What can I help you with, Mr. Steele?”
Rather than act as though he was rushing to her rescue and appear the fool he now saw himself as, he gave a slight bow and said, “I merely wanted to offer my congratulations for a job well done. Considering your current state of mind, it must not have been an easy thing to do.”
Her eyes narrowed in the reflection. “What do you know of my mind?”
“I could see the lines of strain about your mouth. You might be able to pull the wool over the eyes of most of London, but you forget my particular area of expertise. I am inclined to notice things that might escape the notice of others.”
“I see.” Shutters immediately fell over her gaze as she averted her eyes. It was a self-defensive tactic as visible as the knife she’d wielded earlier.
“I did not mean any disrespect for my observation.”
“I understand that, Mr. Steele. However, I am curious about something else.” She rose and turned to face him directly, and he could imagine the armor being pulled tightly around her. “Why would you send someone to watch over me? Is it not obvious I am capable of taking care of myself?”
He lifted a brow. “Very observant of you, Miss Sims.”
She gave a light snort. “And here I thought you might have tried to deny it.”
He shrugged. “Why should I when you have already discovered the truth? I hope that you won’t hold my concern against me.”
“While I do appreciate it,” she murmured.
“It is quite unnecessary. I have been left on my own for some time in situations much worse than what recently happened at this theatre. Besides, if that is the sort of reliance I can depend upon, I have found the individual quite lacking in the area of subterfuge.”
It wasn’t often that Cordell discovered a lady so bold or opinionated.
Other than Mary, of course. But her circumstances had molded her into the daring woman he knew.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, wondering what sort of history Miss Sims must have had to turn her into the same.
His protective instincts wanted to surface, but he knew it would be the wrong way to earn her respect—or her trust. If the time came when she found herself in danger, he wanted her to be willing to come to him.
“In turn, I appreciate your candor, Miss Sims. I will redirect the attentions of your shadow elsewhere.” He touched the side of his brow. “On that note, I shall bid you good evening.”
* * *
Aislynn wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed when Mr. Steele departed.
She admitted to herself that she enjoyed conversing with him.
He was intelligent and extremely sharp, but his propensity to rescue the damsel was not something she could stand behind.
In society, that was likely commonplace, but not with the common populace.
It was not promised that anyone would receive any handouts or charity.
Instead, there were workhouses and hard labor that everyone must endure at some point or another.
If fate granted someone a certain talent, like becoming a notable actress, then it was a gift that should not be squandered. She certainly did not intend to do so.