The Roguish Miss Penn by Emily Hendrickson Page A

fraud as he disclaimed any nobility of action. He stood a few moments as the carriage disappeared from view in the direction of Cambridge, holding the copy of her play that she had slipped to him before she entered the carriage. Then he rejoined his sister in the house, reflecting that the following six weeks would provide a lively time for them both. Of course there were obstacles to overcome, but Philip felt these a mere trifle. What could possibly deflect his intention during the fair?
     

Chapter 4
     
    The River Cam flowed leisurely past the copper beech where Katherine and Cousin Sophia sat taking advantage of a rather nice morning sun. Rain threatened from approaching clouds and Katherine hated to go indoors before utterly necessary.
    “Actors seem a rather unsavory lot, do they not?” Cousin Sophia queried gently. She took another stitch in the complicated piece of needlework she had nearly finished. It was a collection of exquisite flowers done on linen in the finest of stitches. Cousin Sophia was as precise in her stitching as in everything else.
    “Teddy declares them all to be great guns, at least the men. I suspect the actresses may be something else entirely. Although I really do not know, one does hear stories.” She gave her relative an appraising look, then continued. “You realize this places me as one of them . . . so to speak. I may well be classified as a rogue and vagabond too, if Teddy and I become associated with the theater.”
    “That act was done away with in 1788, was it not?” Cousin Sophia replied vaguely, referring to the Licensing Act of 1737, which attempted to curtail theatrical productions and branded all persons associated with the theater in any manner as rogues and vagabonds, promising dire penalties upon them. The players and agents had managed well to circumvent that restriction over the years.
    “No matter,” Katherine said testily, “the feeling lingers on, especially in Cambridge at the university. The notion of acting as a respectable profession seems beyond consideration. It might help if the ladies, in particular, would mend their ways,” she concluded thoughtfully.
    “I suspect that gentlemen make that rather difficult. They make offers to those ladies that must be very hard to refuse,” Cousin Sophia said dryly. “After all, actresses do not earn so very much, do they?”
    “The leading ones do well enough, I suspect,” Katherine said, exchanging a guarded look with Cousin Sophia. “Taverns and theaters top the university list of diversions liable to corrupt the students. As if they needed any help in that.” She held up her hand in warning, her eyes now fixed on the garden gate. “We have company. Melly joins us. She will be full of questions, I vow.” Silent looks were exchanged, but no time for words of caution from Katherine. Not that she need have worried. Cousin Sophia was more apt to listen than speak. She had once remarked she learned more that way.
    “What a charming scene, my dears. ‘Tis a pretty picture you present to the eye.” Amelia Bonner found a small wood bench and tugged it close to where Katherine sat seemingly absorbed in mending a torn flounce on her favorite yellow muslin.
    “Rain before long,” Cousin Sophia muttered to no one in particular.
    “I trust you had a simply charming day at Fairfax Hall yesterday? I could not come over before because Mama would have me assist in entertaining. We have so many parties it grows tedious.” Amelia patted her pretty curls and smiled complacently at the two women. “But, then, you are fortunately spared all that bother. So thoughtful of your father.”
    “True,” Katherine replied quietly. “Some men think nothing of burdening their households with political parties to advance their positions. Not that I believe your father guilty of such, mind you.” But he was, in Katherine’s opinion. Mr. Bonner continually ingratiated himself with his superiors. He was a toad-eater of the first