CHAPTER THREEWhile Temia was awake all that night, occupying her mind with unwanted thoughts about Lord Alphonse, in London the Earl of Wentworth was feeling agitated.
“What the hell do you mean, we cannot enter?” he demanded at the stage door with his silver-topped cane in his hand. His tall frame was encased in a large black cloak and his silk hat made him seem even taller than his six feet. “I’m sorry, my Lord, but Mr. Baker was insistent – no gentlemen callers backstage tonight.”
“But my friend here is accompanying one of the young ladies to dinner,” he asserted, tapping his long cane impatiently on the pavement. “Leo knows us!”
“Sorry, my Lord. I’ve got me orders.”
The man shut the stage door abruptly, leaving him and Sir Thomas Babbington indignantly on the pavement.
“It’s no pr
