During the ride to George Street, which lay in the heart of Sydney’s business district, Maggie tried to compose her thoughts. As much as Reeve McKenna unnerved her—he was indeed, as Tansy had said, a man from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head—Maggie longed to play the part of Kate in his production of The Taming of the Shrew. She wanted it so much, in fact, that the pit of her stomach was jumping and her knees had all the substance of strawberry jelly.

But suppose he was a scoundrel, as men of his obviously lusty nature were wont to be.

Maggie sat up very straight in the cushioned leather carriage seat, taking herself firmly in hand. If Mr. McKenna turned out to be a rascal, the disappointment would be keen, of course, but Maggie had endured worse things, hadn’t she? If he had merely been toying with her that day in his cabin, when he’d promised her not only a part she’d coveted all her life but freedom from her work agreement as well, she would, please God, discern the fact immediately and hasten herself to Mr. Duncan Kirk’s offices, where she could be fairly certain of obtaining employment.

She settled back in the seat, her hands folded in her lap, her reticule at her feet. It wouldn’t be so bad, working as a governess; if there was one thing Maggie Chamberlin loved more than the stage, it was the company of children.

Maggie sighed and smoothed her skirts. Why had she troubled herself? One way or the other, everything would be fine.

Loretta could not concentrate on her lines, even though the role of Lady Macbeth was her favorite, even though she knew the role forward, backward, and inside out. She had to do something about that odd little baggage that had caught Reeve’s attention on board ship, and she had to do it fast.

When Philip Briggs came down the theater’s main aisle, she marveled at the possibilities she’d overlooked. “Philip!” she trilled, ignoring his surprise at the familiarity of her greeting. In reality, her opinion of the boy was hardly higher than Reeve’s, though she tolerated him because he was pretty and because he possessed an endearing talent for flattery.

Small of stature, with lustrous, curly brown-gold hair and ingenuous amber eyes, Philip had a cherubic look about him that the young ladies found irresistible. Loretta smiled to herself. If only it were young ladies that Philip found so attractive.

Today he looked agitated and even despondent, and, as Loretta descended the stage steps to greet him, she caught the scent of good English rum. “What is it, Miss Craig?” he asked, his tone bordering on impatience.