A Proper Scandal (Ravensdale Family Book 2) by Rebecca Paula Page A
Authors: Rebecca Paula
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quest for the truth drove him here but he was practical after all. He didn’t expect to find himself some secret heir to a fortune. He didn’t expect to be much of anything except for who he could become.
His mother loved the theater. She told him stories she had seen on stage when he woke during the night from the screams that echoed throughout the hall. He’d start with this theater. Then he’d raise more capital to buy more and more of London. He’d make a man of himself, in spite of his birth.
The door at the far end of the aisle beneath the balcony swung open.
Alex clutched the knife he’d began wearing strapped to his braces. London was above all a city of thieves and vendettas. For all he knew, the coppers had finally tracked him down for what had happened in Liverpool.
“Alex, they made us.” Boyd shouted as Mr. Davoren’s men pushed him forward into the light. Healy was close behind, the ten-year-old wiggling and jumping, trying to escape.
He’d met both by the docks, two barefooted street urchins. That didn’t last long. Alex took his wages and bought both boys some shoes, then found them a place to stay and some food. Boyd was nearly sixteen, and found a job at the iron factory, along with one for young Headly.
Mr. Davoren emerged last, standing at the stairs leading up to the stage, his arms akimbo. Both boys had knives pressed against their necks.
“Mr. Marwick, I thought we had an agreement,” Mr. Davoren said, moving his jacket aside to display a pistol. “I warned you once not to cause trouble in my streets. I don’t give warnings twice.”
Alex dragged in a breath, stretched his neck from side to side, then braced himself as Mr. Davoren and his men rushed the stage.
*
In yet another three weeks, Minnie had grown ragged and exhausted. Her body was bruised and bloodied, the sole day dress she owned hung too loosely over her body. She ate little and slept less, and then there were the soirées dansantes she attended after every evening’s performance.
She had lied to Mrs. Robards, convinced her that her uncle wished for her to be removed from the school. That lie had been large; one that was still ongoing, as she was sure her uncle had now caught wind of her rebellion. If there was anything Bly Ravensdale was good at, it was discovering the truth. He wished for his family to be held in esteem in London to make up for the poor reputation of the Ravensdale family. And now Minnie had disappeared to become a ballerina while at night she had to smile at wolves waiting to prey on her.
The patrons of ballet.
What a fool she had been to think she would be on her own for this journey. Men wanted pretty creatures to fawn over, to spoil and claim ownership to. They wanted responsibility for her spot on the stage. And above the other dancers, they wished to keep her.
She had fought off a kiss the evening before. The man responded by gripping her wrist much too tightly and tugging her close as she tried to brush off his advance. Her laughter infuriated him further.
“Miss Gibbons,” the ballet instructor called out. “You’re falling out of step again.”
She snapped to attention, her eyes burning from lack of sleep. She had allowed the man to kiss her cheek, and as a reward of sorts, he accompanied her to dinner with a group of others. Minnie hadn’t returned to her rooms until the rest of the neighborhood poured out of their clubs, boastfully singing opera and laughing. She had burrowed under her covers to the sound of such happiness and cried, because then, and just for that small sad moment, she missed home terribly. She missed the gardens of Burton Hall, the sounds of her brother and sister, those of her cousins. The house was always busy and full of chaos. And here in her small rented room in London, living under another name, the world seemed much colder than she anticipated, even for a summer’s night.
Minnie paused, resting for a moment until she could mirror the other dancers.
His mother loved the theater. She told him stories she had seen on stage when he woke during the night from the screams that echoed throughout the hall. He’d start with this theater. Then he’d raise more capital to buy more and more of London. He’d make a man of himself, in spite of his birth.
The door at the far end of the aisle beneath the balcony swung open.
Alex clutched the knife he’d began wearing strapped to his braces. London was above all a city of thieves and vendettas. For all he knew, the coppers had finally tracked him down for what had happened in Liverpool.
“Alex, they made us.” Boyd shouted as Mr. Davoren’s men pushed him forward into the light. Healy was close behind, the ten-year-old wiggling and jumping, trying to escape.
He’d met both by the docks, two barefooted street urchins. That didn’t last long. Alex took his wages and bought both boys some shoes, then found them a place to stay and some food. Boyd was nearly sixteen, and found a job at the iron factory, along with one for young Headly.
Mr. Davoren emerged last, standing at the stairs leading up to the stage, his arms akimbo. Both boys had knives pressed against their necks.
“Mr. Marwick, I thought we had an agreement,” Mr. Davoren said, moving his jacket aside to display a pistol. “I warned you once not to cause trouble in my streets. I don’t give warnings twice.”
Alex dragged in a breath, stretched his neck from side to side, then braced himself as Mr. Davoren and his men rushed the stage.
*
In yet another three weeks, Minnie had grown ragged and exhausted. Her body was bruised and bloodied, the sole day dress she owned hung too loosely over her body. She ate little and slept less, and then there were the soirées dansantes she attended after every evening’s performance.
She had lied to Mrs. Robards, convinced her that her uncle wished for her to be removed from the school. That lie had been large; one that was still ongoing, as she was sure her uncle had now caught wind of her rebellion. If there was anything Bly Ravensdale was good at, it was discovering the truth. He wished for his family to be held in esteem in London to make up for the poor reputation of the Ravensdale family. And now Minnie had disappeared to become a ballerina while at night she had to smile at wolves waiting to prey on her.
The patrons of ballet.
What a fool she had been to think she would be on her own for this journey. Men wanted pretty creatures to fawn over, to spoil and claim ownership to. They wanted responsibility for her spot on the stage. And above the other dancers, they wished to keep her.
She had fought off a kiss the evening before. The man responded by gripping her wrist much too tightly and tugging her close as she tried to brush off his advance. Her laughter infuriated him further.
“Miss Gibbons,” the ballet instructor called out. “You’re falling out of step again.”
She snapped to attention, her eyes burning from lack of sleep. She had allowed the man to kiss her cheek, and as a reward of sorts, he accompanied her to dinner with a group of others. Minnie hadn’t returned to her rooms until the rest of the neighborhood poured out of their clubs, boastfully singing opera and laughing. She had burrowed under her covers to the sound of such happiness and cried, because then, and just for that small sad moment, she missed home terribly. She missed the gardens of Burton Hall, the sounds of her brother and sister, those of her cousins. The house was always busy and full of chaos. And here in her small rented room in London, living under another name, the world seemed much colder than she anticipated, even for a summer’s night.
Minnie paused, resting for a moment until she could mirror the other dancers.
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