Page 59 of The Scholar (Emerson Pass Historicals 3)

I fumed but didn’t want this to ruin our night. “I’m sorry. I’m acting like a brute.”

“You could never act like a brute. You’re worried about your little sister, which is sweet. I’d have liked to have a big brother to protect me.”

A chill went up my spine. If only someone had known the horrors she’d had to endure, we could have stepped in earlier. How different would she be now if someone had? “I’m here now if you want me. I’ll look after you and keep you from harm.”

She smiled but didn’t answer because our first course arrived.

I waited for the server to depart before I asked her, “Are you willing to go downstairs after we eat? I’d like to see for myself what Fiona’s up to.”

“Yes, of course. Also, Cymbeline will be there as well.”

“What? How do you know?”

“She was getting dressed to go out as well,” Louisa said. “Something about Viktor and Emma.”

“For heaven’s sake, I wish she’d just admit to her feelings.”

“She will, I think. Cymbeline does things in her own time.”

“True enough.

We each took a bite of the salad, made from tender spinach moistened with bacon grease. “This is delicious. I love food.”

“Especially food like this.”

She speared another leaf with her fork. “I’ve always been curious what it’s like down there.”

“Really? I’m surprised.”

“As good as Father was to me, he kept a close watch. He would never have let me set foot in a dance hall of any kind. I do want to, though.”

“You’ll have your wish then.” I didn’t relish the idea of our evening ending down in a smoky illegal saloon, but apparently the women in my life didn’t agree.

***

After I’d settled the bill for dinner, I’d asked Maxwell how to get downstairs and been told it was best to go outside and around to the back of the building. We were to use the code dumbwaiter when asked.

“Why dumbwaiter, I wonder?” Louisa asked as we rounded the corner.

“It’s a story from when we were kids,” I said. “When Cymbeline got stuck in the dumbwaiter when we were trying to spy on a party.”

“I’ll have to hear that one sometime.”

“It’s best told by Cymbeline,” I said. “Although it makes the rest of us look bad.”

A man on the other side of the door responded to my knock. I gave him the password and the door opened a few inches. A long nose appeared first, then two deep-set eyes peered at us. “Boss?”

“No, it’s Theo, his twin.”

“Righto.” He opened the door the rest of the way and ushered us into a dark foyer. “I’m Fats. Nice to meet you, Theo. Your brother and Phillip talk about you all the time. The smart brother.” Fats wore a deep blue suit and red tie. Shiny shoes glittered under the electric light that hung from the ceiling. He opened a door that led down a skinny stairwell.

“Have a good time,” Fats said.

Louisa paused in the doorway. “Why do they call you Fats? That’s not your real name, is it?” Her eyes widened as she realized what a gaffe it would be if that were his God-given name.

Fats held up his fingers. “Like sausages, right? That’s where the name comes from.”

They were round and stubby, particularly given the rest of him. As we got to the bottom of the stairs, the sound of jazz music grew louder.