Chapter 1

On the corner of Ninth and Walnut Street, a curious orchestra performed discordant tunes outside the towering edifice of the American Theatre.

Horse-drawn hackney coaches and cabs rambled down the street. Vendors hawked their wares to passersby. Boys shouted about the latest edition of their respective newspapers. Indigents begged alms upon the moving mass of citizenry as it went about its daily business.

The cacophony boomed everywhere, perceptible to every human ear but Elsia Letchmore’s. Blood pounded between her temples, muting the sound of the world behind her.

Elsia’s gullet constricted. She swallowed to ease the restriction of air, but she feared nothing but completing her task would accomplish that goal.

When she arrived in Philadelphia, she’d hired a cab by the hour to take her within the city limits. The cabman, a colored gentleman of pleasant disposition, decided her fifty cents an hour payment was worth the unusual request of escorting a colored woman on her own. Assured of more money, the man waited for her return on the next street over.

Elsia glanced at the gold timekeeping bracelet clasped tight to her narrow wrist. There wasn’t any more time to stall. She’d allotted only a certain amount of time to bring about the desired effect. If she wasted any more of the day rooted in trepidation, then her flagrant disobedience of her father would be for nothing.

Despite this self-castigation, her feet remained fastened to the sidewalk.

Her wildly beating heart threatened to escape the confines of her breast. She’d rehearsed this moment, certain of her words. Reassured of their brevity and lack of emotionalism.

Now it was upon her. All her preparations dissipated like dew under a harsh dawn sun.

How would Zelpher Knight react to the news she’d taken upon herself to deliver?

She added her voice to the surrounding discord. “You’ll never discover the answer if you stay here.”

Gray clouds billowed above like a harbinger of some dark fate. Despite her sensibilities, her scalp tingled. How could she enter the den of wickedness that was the American Theatre?

Once a circus and equestrian theater, the blue-marbled building now hosted dramatic presentations for the masses. Shakespearean plays, musicals, minstrel shows, and the newer burlesque shows. She peered up at three darkened doorways separated by eight columns made of the same marble material.

Apollo, her father, believed Zelpher to be beyond God’s repentance, having sacrificed respectability for indecency as he embraced the debauched lifestyle of a “play actor.”

Elsia had forgone the opportunity to remind her sire of his past enjoyment of the entertainment provided by “play actors.”

She remembered his words from two days ago, and the fierce scowl that marred his dark, beloved face.

“If the Lord wanted Zelpher to know, Elsia, he would have commanded the angel Gabriel to relate the message. We have nothing to do with it.”

She’d tried reasoning with him. “Wouldn’t you want to know if your positions in life were reversed, Father?”

Apollo snorted. “I’d never put myself in such a predicament to warrant your question.”

Her conscience demanded she act. She could not forgo her Christian duty.

She started up the steps. Once at the top, she paused and took in another deep breath. Her hand trembled as she reached out, but the door swung outward. She came face to face with Zelpher Knight himself.

The world halted as their eyes met for the first time in three years. Her heart catapulted into her throat as her hungry gaze feasted on him.

A tall, pale-skinned man with a height of over six feet. Zelpher’s broad physique possessed wide shoulders, supporting a well-shaped head. Square-jawed with a prominent chin thrusting out with arrogant aplomb. His crooked nose rested above a masculine mouth, full and firm with resolve.

Dressed in a sober black frock coat fitted to his trim waist, along with a plain white vest over a white linen shirt, he looked like a proper gentleman. The brim of his hat cast a shadow along the misaligned bridge of his nose, but his hazel-green eyes gleamed from the darkness like a cat’s.

“I beg your pardon, miss.” Zelpher lifted his top hat in apology, revealing a crown of black, curly hair. “I hope the door didn’t strike you?”

Elsia had envisioned the moment she’d see Zelpher again. Assorted scenarios in which this meeting would happen played in her mind. In all of them, Zelpher acknowledged her. Perhaps with surprise, maybe with inward knowing, or in desperate longing.

Never while he was pretending.

Her shoulders slumped and the thickness in her throat swelled. There he stood in perfect form, his acting skills on full display for any passersby. A casual observer could be forgiven for believing this was their first meeting.

Elsia’s eyes drifted shut, and she sent a silent prayer for patience. Would he ever end this perpetual need to conceal his real self from others?

When her eyes opened, he’d come a step down, closer than before. He towered over her, his hazel-green eyes intent upon her face. Drifts of sandalwood from his person wafted to her nostrils.

“Miss?”

It was a single word, but Elsia knew what was behind it. What she didn’t know about Zelpher Knight fit inside a thimble. He wanted her to play along.

Despite everything inside of her that recoiled against such subterfuge, she’d never been able to deny him. The bulge centered in her neck eased.

“No, Mister—” She let the word draw out, waiting for him to supply his current alias.

“Theodore Stanway.”

Her head jerked back, eyes widening before she composed herself. Sarcasm dripped from her voice. “Mr. Stanway, is it? Thank you for your concern.”

Zelpher’s mouth twisted before he spoke again. “I see you were going to visit the theater, Miss—?”

An imp of mischief tapped her shoulder. He wanted to pretend he did not know her, did he? Well, she could do the same, but in the opposite manner. “Mrs. Knight,” she said.

A flush spread over his face. “Mrs. Knight,” he repeated, albeit in a choked way. His hand jerked as he reached up and adjusted the black necktie secured around his throat. “Were you coming to visit someone?”

“I have a message for an acquaintance of mine.”

His brows drew inward. “What sort of message?”

Her mischievous imp ran away, replaced by the more sober reason for her arrival. This wasn’t what she’d planned, but he’d given her little choice.

She opened her reticule and retrieved a snowy white paper, letter-locked with intricate folding and sealed with wax.

Elsia held it in her hand for a moment, staring at his name written in her neat penmanship. Should she cease this ridiculous game? Do away with the pretense that was a part of Zelpher as much as his masculinity?

With a resigned shake of her head, she held out the letter to him. What it contained would end any sense of attitudinizing, perceived or not.

“The information for my acquaintance. It’s important he receives it.”

Zelpher’s face blanched as he took the letter from her. “I’ll make sure he gets it.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

Zelpher’s eyes darted away. He wanted her gone. A sigh escaped her lips as she walked back down the steps. When she reached the bottom, she heard Zelpher call out. “Mrs. Knight?”

She paused, battling between going on her way or stopping to heed his call. Finally, she turned around.

“Yes, Mr. Stanway?”

“You appear to be a woman who enjoys the theater.”

Elsia felt an unnatural stillness come over her. Zelpher came down the steps until he stood next to her. His eyes bore into her face as if he wielded the power to control her will.

“I do?” Her brows lifted into her forehead. “I’d no idea you knew me so well, Mr. Stanway.”

Twin streaks of red shaded his high cheekbones.

Her gaze skimmed the building again. Her father would have discovered her absence by now. It would be foolish to add insult to injury if she weren’t to make it back tonight on the next available train to New York.

Please, Zelpher, don’t ask me.

“Perhaps you can come back later this evening for the performance?”

His gaze held her captive, despite her every wish to tear herself free. With a small, barely audible cry, she turned away.

Say no, Elsia. Don’t make a terrible decision worse.

She glanced again at the timekeeping bracelet. If she left now, she’d still make it home.

How could she stay when her father would be beside himself with concern? Apollo’s face floated in her mind, thunderous and wrathful. Fraught with worry.

She turned back to Zelpher once again. He stood there, waiting for her answer.

How could she leave?

Elsia pursed her lips as she lifted her shoulders. “I shan’t miss it, Mr. Stanway.”

Zelpher felt like a man being released from a dark prison. Upon seeing the faint glow of sunshine, the man staggered towards its warmth. Wouldn’t the prisoner fall to his knees before that great orb? He’d lift his haggard, drawn face and bask in its life-giving beams.