“May we be introduced to this fascinating creature?” The short Mr. Michaels smiled. His teeth were brown. Kate tried to hide her shock and took a step back. The time had come to leave.
She’d made her point to Mr. Balfour. Contrary to her early hopes, she would have to warn Silas that sales for the performance tomorrow might be sparse. Given the stares she’d received this evening with her stunt, she doubted if any woman in the parish would allow any member of her family to attend her plays.
Such was life.
Miss Taylor spoke as if having doubts about introductions. “Miss Addison, this is Mr. Michaels and Mr. Shielding. They are both solicitors.”
“Ah, the lawyers,” Kate said, amused by Miss Taylor’s reluctance and the gents’ eagerness. Then again, of all the species of men, lawyers could be the most worthless.
“I want this next dance,” Mr. Shielding said without preamble or manners. He was obviously intoxicated.
Before Kate could politely refuse, Mr. Michaels hit his friend’s arm with his fist. “We agreed that I dance with her first.”
Mr. Shielding ignored him. “May I?” he pressed, bowing clumsily.
The next punch was to the side of Mr. Shielding’s head. The force behind the blow was impressive because of the height disparity. Mr. Shielding fell back, tumbling against the tight-knit group of women who had no doubt been jabbering about Kate. They were caught by surprise. Mr. Shielding landed on the floor and tried to rise by pulling on skirts. There was the sound of ripping material. Women screeched their alarm. Several started to fall and punch cups, fans, and an impossibly red wig went flying.
In a blink, Mr. Shielding and Mr. Michaels were caught up in their own drama. Regaining his feet, Mr. Shielding, with a shout of, “You are an unruly bastard, Douglas!” dived into Mr. Michaels.
They plunged into the next group of people. Behind them, a frantic woman started screaming, “My wig.Where is my wig?”
Those who attempted to separate the fighting friends ended up in the middle of it as they retaliated for fists being thrown at them. Men left the punch table, their hands forming fists. The music stopped as more women began screaming.
Outright chaos broke out. It was as if the room had separated into warring tribes.
Kate was jostled this way and that. She became separated from Miss Taylor. She tried to back away from two men who were shoving at each other.
A strong hand grabbed her shoulder and swung her around. “You,” the woman who had lost her wig snapped. “You are the cause of all this.”
“I wasn’t—” Kate said, but her words were cut short.
“Whore.”
Few had ever dared to say such a word to her face. “You are mistaken, madam,” she shot back. Her palm itched to slap the older woman’s face for her impertinence, except Kate had better manners.
Unfortunately, that word was a rallying cry for the women. Kate found herself surrounded. The lady whose dress had been torn by Mr. Shielding’s clumsiness reached for Kate’s bodice and would have grabbed it save for Kate forcefully pushing her away. With a cry, the grand dame fell back against a man ready to throw a fist. It almost connected with her chin. He stopped himself in time and was rewarded by the woman fainting into his arms like a deadweight.
Kate had to leave.
This was madness.
Tables and chairs were being overturned. There was shouting, grunts, crying, and, yes, she would be blamed.
Kate searched for an escape. She would not be able to reach the entrance. Battles were being fought everywhere.
However, she did notice a side door close at hand. Quickly, she dodged combatants and pushed it open. It led into a small dark room that had been used as storage at one time or another. The light from the other room revealed a half door only three feet high. This explained why no one else had tried this escape. They probably all knew it would not be simple.
Her heart pounding in her ears, Kate attempted her escape. She could not go back out there into the melee.
Fortunately, the door wasn’t locked. With a good hard shove of her shoulder, she pressed it open, feeling the cool night air with its hint of freedom.
Dirt had built up against the door on the outside making it hard to open. Using all her strength, and heedless of what her efforts were doing to the dress, Kate put mind and body to the door. With another mighty push, she moved it open wide enough for her to wedge her shoulders through and then ungracefully climb out of it.
She had to crawl a few feet. All was dark here. She shakily rose up. The green shoes were really pinching her toes now, but she did not care. She was more worried about what was popping out of her bodice. Businesslike, she pushed herself back into some semblance of order, and she was safe.
“Thank you, God,” she whispered fervently.
A voice answered, and it was not God’s.
