“It was an exceptional production, poppet.” Strathaven ruffled her raven ringlets, and she beamed with pleasure.
“What about me?” Standing beside his sister, Lord Christopher looked expectantly at his parents. “Was I good as the knight?”
“You were entirely convincing, lad,” his papa assured him.
“I particularly enjoyed the part where Princess Gianna danced her way to freedom,” Emma said. “It was a wonderful twist that it wasn’t the knight who rescued her in the end, but her belief in her own magic.”
“That part was Fiona’s idea,” Lady Olivia said graciously.
“Well done, Fiona,” Strathaven said.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Fi’s gaze was downcast.
Seeing the other children flanked by their loving parents, Gabby could guess the cause of her daughter’s subdued state. She knew how much Fiona had wanted Adam to see the play: the girl had been talking about it for weeks.
“You were wonderful, dear.” Gabby injected extra brightness into her praise. “You all were.”
Fi traced the ground with the toe of her dancing slipper. “I wish Papa was here to see it.”
“He wanted to be here ever so much,” Gabby said quietly. “But he got called away on an important matter.”
“Healwaysgets called away.”
Of course, Gabby’s father had come over just in time to catch his granddaughter’s statement. Not wanting to add to her papa’s animosity toward Adam or air the family laundry in front of guests, Gabby said, “You can tell Papa all about it later. Now have you seen Max?”
Fiona’s chin jutted out, her blue eyes flashing. “Max, Max, Max! He’s all you care about.”
Caught off-guard by the outburst, Gabby didn’t know how to respond.
“Is that any way to speak to your mama, young lady?” Father cut in. At his reproving frown, his granddaughter lowered her gaze. “You must apologize. At once.”
Fiona’s bottom lip trembled.
“It’s late,” Gabby said quickly. “I’m sure Fiona spoke out of turn because she’s tired. Isn’t that so, dear?”
Casting a nervous glance at her grandpapa, Fiona gave a small nod.
“I think we’ve had enough drama for one evening.” Polly came over, putting a gentle arm around Fiona’s stiff shoulders. “Why don’t we take refreshment with the children while you find Max, Gabby?”
“Thank you.” Gabby summoned a smile. “He and I will be back in a minute.”
She hurried behind the stage, where the children’s governess was tidying up the props and costumes.
“He’s in his bedchamber, ma’am,” Miss Thornton said quietly. “He said he wants to be alone.”
With a nod of thanks, Gabby headed to the adjoining room and knocked on the door.
“Go away,” came Max’s muffled voice.
“It’s me, dear,” Gabby said lightly. “We’re having refreshments now. Don’t you want to celebrate with your friends?”
“No. I don’t want to see anyone.Go away.”
Hearing the hitched breaths that punctuated the words, Gabby turned the knob and went in.
Her son was sitting on the floor beside his bed, his arms around his raised knees. He’d thrown off his crown of twigs but was still wearing the brown burlap tunic that had been part of his costume. At her approach, he raised his head, and her chest ached to see his tear-splotched face. She went and sat next to him on the floor—rather awkwardly, given the bulk of her petticoats.
He dashed the back of his hand across his small face, smudging tears and snot. “I said I want to be left alone.”
