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herself.
    â€œBut you cannot go back to work for that monster!” Miss Sands suddenly protested, grabbing at her hand to keep her hidden with them there.
    Suddenly Sophie was inclined to agree. She’d barely poked her head out from around the screened wall and quickly ducked back in. He was here.
    Miss Sands’s father noticed and leaned forward to peer through the openings in the screen. Miss Sands did the same, her breath catching in a way that Sophie could truly not find surprising. Women often did that upon sight of the tall, impeccably dressed gentleman and his arguably perfect features.
    â€œIs that him?” she asked with a mix of awe and astonishment. “Is that Fitzgelder?”
    Sophie had to stifle a laugh. As if there could be any comparison!
    â€œNo, it’s someone else,” her father replied. “I don’t know him.”
    â€œLindley,” Sophie informed them. “His name is Lindley.”
    â€œThe earl?”
    Sophie nodded.
    â€œWe are in trouble, then,” the actor said.
    Sophie joined Miss Sands in sending him a curious glance. He ran his hand through his thick, dark hair and sighed. Could these people have something against Lindley, too? Just what sort of actors were these people, anyway? Sophie watched intently as a careful determination stole over the older man’s face. His daughter eyed him.
    â€œPapa, who is this Lindley? What have we to do with him?”
    â€œNothing, ma chou-chou . He is merely a friend of Fitzgelder’s. But this tells me what I must do.”
    â€œIt does?”
    â€œIndeed. I must leave.”
    â€œNo, Papa. We must leave. Together.”
    He shook his head. “No, people must merely think we’ve left together. Remember, ma belle , he’s never seen you. You must stay here where you will be safe.”
    â€œSafe? Here? You cannot be serious, Papa!” Miss Sands protested.
    Sophie voiced her agreement. “Beg pardon, monsieur, but Mr. Fitzgelder will surely take notice of Miss Sands, even if he does not know her. I cannot think she’ll be safe here!”
    The actor simply smiled at them. “She will if she gives the performance of her lifetime.”

Chapter Two
    If Romeo and Juliet was supposed to have been a comedy, Lindley could have called the presentation of the balcony scene quite successful. The young man playing Romeo had been nothing short of hilarious. Not that he was trying to be, of course. Sadly, Lindley believed the young pup’s nervous posturing, effeminate mannerisms, and the way he continued to recite Juliet’s lines instead of his own was entirely unintentional.
    Not that Juliet was any better. She was worse, in fact, and no spry young maiden, either. Indeed, Juliet was particularly older and far more world-weary than her tender Romeo. Lindley was not convinced it was merely her shoes that creaked as she walked toward her shifty young man. It did not play well.
    What on earth had Fitzgelder been thinking when he secured this bloody theatrical troupe for his Thursday night rout? His guests—accustomed to entertainment that was a bit more titillating—were growing restless. Lindley hoped Fitzgelder hadn’t paid much for this mess of a production.
    It would seem, however, their host considered whatever he’d paid to be too much.
    â€œThis is bullshit!” Fitzgelder erupted as Romeo continued to rail on and on about the angelic virtues of his grandmotherly Juliet. “What the hell are we watching here? Where is the real Juliet?”
    The actors, understandably, were thrown off balance by the interruption. Romeo was especially flustered. It made sense, of course, as he’d been the one to introduce himself as Alexander Clemmons, the unlikely leader of this sad little troupe. Naturally he’d be the first one Fitzgelder had hauled off to jail for impersonating, well, an actor. It seemed he might possibly be considering hiding behind Juliet,