“Now let me present to you my son, Leo,” Xavier said. Leo’s smile was so ingratiating, Agnes thought she might vomit.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, sir,” he said.
“Oh my,” Mr. Kiernan gasped. “You look exactly like her.”
This observation never ceased to rankle Agnes or Leo, though for different reasons, but tonight he smiled and said, “Yes, sir, so I’ve been told.”
He must be up to something, to take the comment so easily—and he was wearing a tie that matched his eyes, a feature he never played up. But Agnes had no interest in her brother’s schemes at the moment.
“You knew my mother?” she asked Kiernan.
He cleared his throat. “Not personally, no.”
“But you know what she looked like?”
Kiernan seemed to regret the path this conversation was going down, and Agnes knew she was walking a fine line, but she could not stop herself.
“Everyone in Pelago knows the Byrne family. Their features are striking,” he said, gesturing to Leo as if to prove his point.
“Do you know my grandmother?” As soon as the words were out, Agnes knew she had gone too far.
The look Xavier gave her would have withered even the strongest of trees. Agnes felt herself shrink, and her face grew hot. Their mother’s family, the Byrne family, was off-limits. No one was allowed to bring them up. Not even Eneas would talk about them, and he had worked for them his whole life before moving here from Pelago with her mother. Agnes had sent letters to her grandmother, Ambrosine Byrne, every year, hoping for a response and never receiving one. To be honest, Agnes was not convinced the letters had actually been mailed at all. She had trusted Swansea to post them when she was younger, which had been foolish, and then, when she got older, went directly to the post office herself. But she suspected her father had a man in his pocket there. Eneas had flat-out refused when she’d asked him for help. She got the sense he was frightened of her grandmother, though he never said anything about her except that she was a “formidable and impressive woman.”
“We do not discuss the Byrne family in this house,” Xavier said, and Mr. Kiernan seemed all too eager to change the subject.
“You must be the daughter? Agnes, is that correct?”
“She is,” Xavier said.
Agnes made an awkward curtsy—she had never learned to do it right—and cursed herself internally. She should have asked Mr. Kiernan in private, where he might have been more forthcoming.
“And may I present Miss Elizabeth Conway of Old Port and her companion Miss Marianne Ellis, from Lady’s Point,” Xavier said. “Miss Ellis is visiting for the month.”
Marianne was eyeing Mr. Kiernan with great interest. Agnes didn’t see anything particularly attractive about the man, though she wasn’t the best judge. She liked the kohl around his eyes, though. And the seashell in his hair.
Brief pleasantries were exchanged, champagne was toasted, and then Swansea announced that dinner was served.
“Nice tie,” Agnes muttered to her brother as she took her seat beside him. “Are you trying to be Pelagan now?”
Xavier and Mr. Kiernan sat at the ends of the large mahogany table. Elizabeth and Marianne were across from the twins.
“Nice dress,” Leo shot back under his breath. “Are you trying to be an eighty-year-old widow?”
A cold vegetable soup was served first, and Mr. Kiernan happily commented on just about everything in the room.
“Delicious! I adore zucchini.”
“What magnificent candlesticks!”
“My dear Xavier, this is an absolutely beautiful spoon.”
“Aren’t these napkins a delight!”
Agnes wondered how he didn’t pass out at the table from expending so much positive energy.
“How do you find Old Port City, Mr. Kiernan?” Elizabeth asked, taking a dainty spoonful of soup. Elizabeth Conway was one of those girls Agnes wanted to hate but could never quite bring herself to. She was wealthy and beautiful and popular, but she had always been kind to Agnes. Most of the daughters of Old Port society found Agnes strange and unpleasant, something she often encouraged, since she didn’t particularly enjoy their company. But still, it was nice not to be treated like an absolute freak all the time.
She wondered for a brief moment if her father knew Elizabeth was kind to Agnes, if that was why he’d invited her in the first place.
“It is a joy to see,” Kiernan replied. “The cars! The buildings! So much industry. And of course, the theater scene is unparalleled.” He winked at Xavier.
“Do tell us about this secret project, won’t you, Mr. McLellan?” Elizabeth pleaded.
“Yes, do!” Marianne chimed in.
“Why, whatever are you girls talking about?” Xavier said with feigned surprise.
“I have it on good authority that you have been up to something this whole summer since Picando closed,” Elizabeth said.
“James Roth has been running his mouth to impress the ladies again, it would seem.”
Elizabeth gave a sly grin. “Why, Mr. McLellan, I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”
Her father chuckled as Swansea and two footmen came in to clear their bowls and bring in the next dish. He dabbed at his mouth to ensure there was no trace of soup in his beard.
Xavier had a fantastic beard. Many Kaolin men wore theirs long and artfully braided or bushy and pruned into various shapes, but not Xavier. His was sleek and close-cropped but with the most magnificent patterns carved along his cheekbones and under his jawline, swirls and points crafted with the utmost precision. There were two large dips that rose to a point at the center of his lower lip, and he stroked that spot often, usually when buying time to come up with a response or when savoring a particular moment before speaking. This was certainly the latter instance.
“Swansea.” Xavier spoke no louder than his usual tone, but there was a clear undercurrent of command.
“Yes, sir?”
“Bring the portfolio in from my study.”
“Right away, sir.”
Once he was gone, Xavier leaned forward, pressing his hands together so that his fingertips formed a steeple. “Allow me to ask you ladies a question,” he said with a mischievous smile. It was unnerving how charming he could be when he wished. “Have you enjoyed the McLellan productions you’ve seen?”
“Oh yes,” Marianne gushed. “I saw The Wayward Woman of Weltshire Street last month, and it was to die for. And The Lizard and the Frog has been running in Lady’s Point for quite some time now. That man with the flippers who plays the frog is just marvelous!”
Agnes clenched her jaw. That man was named Jeremy. He’d worked in one of Xavier’s freak shows in Old Port until the audiences had gotten bored and Xavier moved the production to the west coast. He was shy, and kind, and he used to tell Agnes the funniest jokes when she was younger, before she understood that her father didn’t want her talking to “the grotesques,” as some of the staff had called them.
“So it would disappoint you to hear that I am currently working on my final show before leaving the theater scene for good?”
Elizabeth gasped, and Marianne cried, “No!” but Xavier’s children simply stared at him, dumbfounded. His final show? Agnes took some comfort in the fact that this appeared to be news to Leo, too.