Page 37 of Three Weeks with a Princess
After a short musical interlude, the main performance began.The Queen of Mount Olympuswas a ridiculous pastiche of classical myth and Greek history that featured chanted recitations and several musical numbers. The queen, Mrs. Lester, took center stage, cutting an impressive figure in a spangled toga, gilt breastplate, and plumed helmet. The audience loved her, cheering loudly every time she launched into her recitations, which she chanted dramatically in a singsong manner.
The real spectacle began when the first battle scene commenced to loud whistles and cheers. Players garbed as soldiers in short tunics and breeches launched into a mock battle, enthusiastically whacking at each other with painted wooden swords.
“This is much more fun than Drury Lane,” Gillian said, almost doubling over with laughter. “Even if it’s completely absurd.”
“With emphasis on the absurd,” Charles said.
Jack, however, felt as if a very large sword had just whackedhimon the back of the head, because unless his eyesight had rapidly begun to fail him, one soldier looked very familiar.
“Goodness,” Gillian said. “I think that soldier standing by the proscenium is a female.”
Jack squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, hoping they were deceiving him. That hope was dashed when he cracked his eyelids open again.
“I’m afraid so,” he said, barely able to choke out the words.
Both Gillian and Charles looked at him. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Charles looked back at the stage. “Good God, is that Miss Kincaid?”
“It most certainly is,” Jack ground out.
Gillian leaned forward to get a better look. “That’s Lia? Well, I must say she looksverydashing in that outfit. Don’t you think so, Charles?”
“That’s one way of putting it,” he replied in a faint voice.
Jack stared until he thought his eyes would pop out of his head. Lia’s costume was scandalously revealing. The form-fitting tunic revealed the lovely swell of her bosom, before nipping in to showcase her trim waist. It barely reached midthigh, which meant her shapely legs, clad in breeches that unfortunately fit her snuggly, were on full display.
The only saving grace was that she was not front and center on the stage. Because it was a crowded scene with frenetic activity, her identity as a woman might go unnoticed. Jack clutched at that faint hope as if it were a rope tossed to a drowning man.
“You didn’t tell me she was playing a breeches role,” Charles said, his consternation clear. It wasn’t uncommon for certain actresses to don breeches and play a male part, but those roles were notorious for attracting all sorts of salacious attention from male audience members.
“Because I didn’t know,” Jack said. “That blasted girl doesn’t tell me anything anymore.”
Gillian shot him an irritated look. “I shouldn’t wonder, if you speak to her in that tone of voice.”
Charles shook his head. “Under the circumstances, Jack’s dismay is quite understandable, my love. This sort of thing won’t help Miss Kincaid’s reputation at all.”
She shrugged. “I don’t see why. I wear breeches myself on occasion.”
Her husband stared at her in disbelief. “Only in the country when riding, and very discreetly. You certainly don’t go parading around in front of half of London.”
Lia had retreated and was now partially concealed by the proscenium. Jack couldn’t understand why she was in the scene at all because she didn’t seem to be doing much of anything.
“This theater is not half of London,” Gillian pointed out. “Besides, she’s entirely covered, so I don’t see what you and Jack are fussing about.”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t,” Charles said in a long-suffering tone.
He alluded to his wife’s unconventional upbringing in Sicily and her sometimes equally unconventional behavior. But unlike Lia, Gillian’s powerful relatives could and did protect her from both malicious gossip and ill-intentioned men.
Lia’s family didn’t even care to try.
“I’m not sure anyone’s yet noticed that this particular soldier is a woman,” Charles said, craning forward to peruse the audience. “With a little luck—ah, she’s disappeared backstage.”
“Thank God,” Jack muttered. He and his friend exchanged a relieved glance. “I think we dodged a pistol ball on that one.”
“Look! There she is again,” Gillian said. “Now what is she doing?”
Appalled, Jack saw that Lia had quickly reappeared, accompanied by one of the other soldiers. They carried a large piece of fabric to the front of the stage and unrolled it.
