Branstoke maneuvered him to the exit, shoving him out of the box. "You're lucky I was here to warn you," he said solemnly.
"Obliged to you, Branstoke. Does Haukstrom know?"
"I wouldn't venture to guess what Haukstrom knows."
Nutley nodded wisely, tapping his temple with his index finger. "I think he does. Why else leave her here alone? Probably trying to get rid of her. Damn, if I don't have a word with him on this shabby trick he's trying to play." He turned and sauntered off down the hall, weaving and banging into the wall in the process.
Branstoke watched until Nutley rounded the curve heading toward the stairs, a half-smile playing upon his lips. He turned back to the box.
Alternately infuriated and amused at Branstoke's tactics, Cecilia didn't know whether to burst into giggles or stamp her feet. She opted for anger since it was outrageous for him to imply that she could be so tainted! She sat up straight in her chair and glared at him. "How dare you!" she ground out through clenched teeth.
"You are looking amazingly better. Am I to infer that your illnesses are subject to sudden stops as they are to starts?" he asked with unruffled composure. He sat down in a chair near her, crossing his legs and hooking his clasped hands around his knee.
Cecilia drew her breath in sharply and began fanning herself again, as much to play the ailing woman as to hide a threatening smile. "No woman of quality likes to be accosted as a common prostitute, let alone as one with a venereal disease," she attempted pettishly.
"Do not worry, Mrs. Waddley. The one thing no one could take you to be is common," he returned. "Now, how is it that you are here alone and open to such unfortunate importunities?" he continued before she could draw breath to issue a retort.
Cecilia was silent a moment as she mastered her anger and chagrin in favor of her weak, sickly persona. Though she hated to admit it, Branstoke's handling of the problem with Mr. Nutley was swift and sure. And contrived, she'd wager, to discomfort her brother as well. Also, not once hadhesaid she had a venereal disease or that she was a prostitute. He merely didn't negate Mr. Nutley's assumptions, leaving that gentleman to play the fool—which he did without help from anyone.
"Randolph suggested I wait here until our carriage comes. He knows how crowds can bring on one of my dreadful spells with which I am so sadly plagued."
"I'm certain you've guessed that your esteemed late guest, Mr. Nutley, is most likely correct. I doubt your dear brother is watching out for your carriage," he said drily.
She sighed and closed her fan, laying it gently in her lap.
"As you have discovered, it is not wise to remain here unattended. I'm afraid Mr. Nutley comes by his assumptions honestly," he said.
"I see that," she said ruefully. "May I ask you, Sir James, to go in search of my brother for me?"
"No, madam, you may not. I will not expend a particle of energy on behalf of Randolph Haukstrom. I intend to see you safely to your carriage," he said crisply, quite at odds with his usual demeanor. He stood and gave her his hand to help her rise. Gathering her cloak in his hands, he placed it about her shoulders then offered her his arm.
Cecilia was uncertain as to how to take Branstoke. Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, she deemed it wisest to refrain from comment. Gently she laid her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her out of the box.
"Dash it all, Cecilia, what's Nutley nattering on about?" Randolph Haukstrom called out as he rushed across the lobby followed by the Honorable Reginald Rippy and Sir Harry Elsdon, two of his frequent cronies. "Mumbling something about my foisting a diseased chippy on him."
"Haukstrom, you jingle-brained gapeseed, what do you mean leaving your sister alone and prey to every lascivious character in the theater?" demanded Branstoke.
Randolph Haukstrom's chin jutted out mulishly, though physically he seemed to shrink. "I was coming back for her."
Branstoke raised a quelling eyebrow.
"Damn it, Branstoke. What business is it of yours?"
"It is the business of everygentlemanto protect a lady," he said softly, pointedly. "Mrs. Waddley, I believe your carriage is outside. Shall we go?"
"Now just a minute, Branstoke," said Haukstrom, red color suffusing his fair complexion.
"Lord, what fools these mortals be!"quipped Sir Harry Elsdon, laying a hand on his friend's arm. "Hate to say it, Randy ol' boy, but Branstoke's got the point. Not the thing at all to leave a lovely young woman like your sister unattended."
"Bad Ton," agreed Rippy, his lower lip thrusting out as his head bobbed up and down in agreement.
"Thank you, gentlemen," drawled Branstoke.
Cecilia glanced at him, wondering if the faint hint of sarcasm she detected in his tone rested only in her imagination. Bidding her brother an embarrassed goodnight, she allowed Branstoke to lead her out of the theater and down to her carriage.
"May I be allowed to see you home?" he asked as he assisted her into the carriage.
Cecilia paused, uncertain how to respond.
