“I beg your pardon?” she asked, lifting her gaze to settle somewhere south of his eyes.
“That there are reasons for the protests.”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know a thing about it,” she said primly.
“Wouldn’t you?” he said, discovering a particular joy in taunting her. “You wouldn’t know a thing of reasons for protesting? For all sorts of protests? Demonstrations…marches even?”
To his immense satisfaction, Prim’s suddenly wide eyes met and held his for the first time that night.
* * *
Gracious heavenly Lord save her.
He knew.
How?
Not waiting for one of the gentlemen to hold her chair, Prim pushed it back and stood. Prickles of sweat dampened the back of her neck and the hollow between her breasts, and spots danced before her eyes.
“Good heavens, Mrs. Eames,” Mrs. Astor cried. “Are you quite all right?”
In a flash, Mr. MacKintosh was around the table and slipping an arm around her. “Steady on there,” his deep brogue whispered in her ear, supporting her as she righted herself. “Worry not, Mrs. Astor, I’m sure Mrs. Eames will rally in a moment. Won’t you?Rally, that is?”
Prim’s knees wobbled at the pun in his word play. He knew all right.
How? Or more importantly, who would he tell? What would he say?
“You are pale, Mrs. Eames,” Jack said. “Do you need to lie down? I can fetch Ava to assist you,” he added, referring to his wife.
Prim shook her head. “No, no. I’ll be fine.”
“Perhaps a bite to eat and a wee drink might be in order?” MacKintosh asked.
With few polite options available to her, Prim nodded.
“Allow me to accompany you to a more comfortable chair or chaise,” he offered solicitously, though there was laughter in his voice. No doubt baiting her amused him.
Mrs. Astor nodded. “Yes, do allow Mr. MacKintosh to support you.”
“Aye, I always love to support a good cause,” he teased softly. “How about you, lass?”
Blood rushed back into her face, hot and fast, just as quickly as it’d left her. Prim gritted her teeth and took his proffered arm.
“How did you know?”
“Call it an eyewitness account.”
Oh, God, who else had seen her? She’d always been so careful to keep her activities under cover before.
“Whose?”
“Never fear, it was only my own,” he assured her, no doubt sensing she was near panic. “Though Astor and Goelet were there as well, I don’t believe either of them witnessed your…um, shall we call it,defiantexit from the march?”
A low groan bubbled up in her throat. Would he say something to her brothers? Or worse, to Mrs. Astor?
“May I be of assistance, Mrs. Eames?”
The groan deepened into dismay as Mossman Leachman approached. He angled himself with the clear intention of blocking MacKintosh’s progress and reached for her arm. With a sigh, she tried to withdraw her arm from the Scot’s but he held on…firmly.
