“How did you know which shell the pea was under?” She was coming to know Jasper well enough to know it was something other than luck.
His answer, of course, was matter-of-fact. “Sleight of hand. As he pushed the shell forward, he slipped the pea out behind it. Distracting you with his showmanship. When he dragged the other one back, he scooped it up. He was good. I’ll give him that. But not good enough to fool me.”
“But you knew what to watch for.”
“And I’m taller than you. I had a better view of his tricks.” As they moved past another vendor, Jasper didn’t offer his elbow, but took her hand in his again, threading their fingers between one another, dragging her past an enclosed tent.
This time it was Nia who drew them to a halt. A red-painted image caught her eye. “Dancing girls?” Perhaps she could blame her curiosity upon having met Stella, a real live courtesan, back at the emporium, but the idea of such a performance intrigued her.
“Surely you don’t want…” Jasper cocked a brow and then winced. “Have I not already corrupted you enough?”
“Oh, no, Jasper. You’ve barely scratched the surface.” Nia fluttered her lashes up at him. She had sacrificed her family, her home, to experience this kind of freedom, and following their harrowing experience with the highwaymen, she couldn’t help but appreciate that tomorrow was never a certainty.
And the idea of ladies dancing on a stage as entertainment fascinated her more than it shocked her.
Because apparently, she was, indeed, quite corruptible.
“If you faint, I refuse to carry you out,” Jasper teased, taking her hand as he turned to the wily old man holding a velvet-covered rope. “Two tickets.”
The man opened the rope, and as they stepped through the curtained entrance, Nia felt as though she’d stepped into an alternate world. The smell of paint hit her first, likely from the colorful backdrop hanging behind the raised stage, followed by a hush of anticipation. Banners featuring different dancers hung on the walls of curtains, and a collection of spectators already filled half the hard wooden benches. She was surprised but also pleased to discover she was not the only lady present.
Not the only woman, anyhow.
Jasper found them seats near the outer aisle, not too close, but not too far to see the performance. He took the inside seat, separating her from the gentlemen at the other end, keeping his hand on her back.
The gesture was not only comforting, but she realized it was a signal to the other men who’d eyed her as she walked in. Rather than feeling trapped, she felt protected.
She could not help but recall that he’d ordered her to stay put outside Malum’s office at the emporium—to protect her. He’d put forth more effort to protect her than anyone else ever had.
“Are there dancers at the Emporium?” Nia asked. She was coming to comprehend that the world consisted of so much more than she’d ever witnessed, or even imagined.
“Yes.” Jasper dipped his chin. “But don’t go getting ideas that I’ll escort you to one of their shows.”
Nia laughed, and then she touched her fingers to his arm. “Are you scandalized, Jasper?”
He shot her a mock scowl and covered her fingers with his hand. “You ought to be. I don’t know how you talked me into this,” he murmured in a threatening voice. But he wasn’t threatening at all.
They were flirting.
Playing.
Just as he’d promised.
And as the ticket man made a show of closing off the entrance, the murmuring crowd fell silent. Two boys lit several candles at the foot of the stage, and the sconces at the back were extinguished.
Nia had sat in boxes watching famous operas performed on Drury Lane, and yet her anticipation then did not compare to what she felt as a flamboyantly dressed lady sauntered from behind the stage.
The performer wore an elaborate red taffeta gown, and her hair was piled high and adorned with scarlet feathers sticking out of it. It was garish and flashy and mesmerizing.
Two men pushed a piece of furniture out from the opposite side—a pianoforte, but a small one, and judging by the chips and scrapes, it had obviously seen better days.
The woman spread her hands wide, dropped into an exaggerated curtsey, and then made an elaborate spectacle of arranging her gown as she took her seat. But she did not play immediately. Holding jeweled hands over the keys, she bowed her head forward, and only then, after she’d wrung as much anticipation from the crowd as possible, did she toss it back.
Nia jumped at the sudden loud and lively tune and then leaned forward when two sets of ladies stepped out from opposite ends of the stage wearing very, very short skirts and kicking their legs out. Grasping one another’s shoulders, they joined lines at the center of the stage.
Some of the kicks were higher than the dancers’ heads. Others struggled to keep their rhythm. And as they moved about the stage, a few jiggled more than others. Short, tall, plump, and deathly thin. They consisted of all sizes. But they smiled, and the crowd clapped along with the music. A few of the gentlemen in the back whistled, and Nia simply absorbed the experience.
Afterward, as they stepped outside, Jasper squeezed her hand. “Are you scandalized?”
