New Spring Gardens, later to be called Vauxhall Gardens, had recently opened. It was an outdoor entertainment area among acres of trees, gardens and paths where outdoor musicals and plays were performed.
Archer strolled along but his thoughts were on Quinn. Her suspicions about Katherine made a hell of a lot of sense but Quinn hadn't been pleased to be excluded from their little ruse. He vowed to make it up to her later but he couldn't deny that he was happy she was safe at his mother's home and away from any threat of scandal.
"The theatre groups meet just beyond those trees," Mr. Grant offered.
"We'll stay a safe distance behind you," Archer said as Mr. Grant nodded and headed off.
Archer watched as Douglas disappeared into the crowd of elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen. He had never before been here; even when it first opened and drew such interest, his father thought it all silly and a waste of time. And as far as he could remember, he never brought Morgan here either. His wife.
He was being honest with Quinn when he told her how he felt. He loved his wife, he knew in his heart that he did, but it was Quinn that he loved now fully and completely. The wife of his dreams was Quinn, her face, her body, her mind. How he could dream about a woman he had never met, he didn't know, but he did and always had.
Thaddeus spoke up from next to him, "Did you see her before we left?"
Archer looked a bit sheepish before he replied, "No, she was still rather angry."
Thaddeus stopped walking and Archer turned to look back at him.
"How are you handling the news of your wife?"
"I'm actually glad to have closure," Archer sighed.
"Why didn't I ever meet her?"
"We met and married when you were doing your tour of the continent. By the time you came home, she was gone and I had been convinced that I had made her up."
"What about Quinn? Who is she really?"
"I don't know, Thaddeus, but I have dreamt of her for all of my adult life."
"Yet you only just met her recently."
"Exactly. I can't explain it but something links us together. She saw me in the future, haunting Whispering Winds, waiting for her."
"I know she told me that. But how is that possible?"
"There are powers at work here, my friend. Magic some would call it, and I am grateful for it because whatever it is brought Quinn to me." Archer was silent a moment before he asked, "What do you imagine her time is really like?"
"Scary," Thaddeus answered immediately. "All those things she mentioned that day: cars, airplanes, jumping from buildings? I don't know, it sounds to me that in the future the world goes a bit mad."
"Aye, but I'd really like to see it," Archer said almost dreamily.
Thaddeus grinned. "Me too."
At that moment a short gentleman hurried past them and knocked into Archer. He turned, his hat low on his head, as he offered in a clear voice, "Excuse me."
"Certainly," Archer acknowledged as the gentleman turned and walked off. The interruption reminded Archer and Thaddeus of their purpose as they continued towards the makeshift stage setup further down the path.
Quinn almost laughed out loud when she knocked into Archer, even looked him in the face, and he had not a single clue it was her. She wanted to pull her hat off right then and there and let her curls tell the tale but she had a job and continued on toward the crowd that was awaiting the beginning of the play.
As she stepped through the crowd, just as she suspected, no one paid her any notice. In fact, she went so unnoticed as to almost appear invisible and this brought an unexpected pang of anger.
She hated to admit it but she gave in to a bit of vanity when she dressed and so instead of mirroring Douglas' rumbled appearance, she actually looked quite dapper.
She made a rather attractive gentleman, certainly more attractive than some of the men whose widths were greater than their heights and others who dressed like peacocks. Her black silk overcoat and breeches complimented her dark wine waist coat with onyx and silver buttons. Quite simply she was rather dashing. She didn't have Archer and Thaddeus' height but she certainly looked just as handsomely elegant. She almost laughed out loud when she realized that she was having a bit of a temper tantrum because people didn't find her an attractive man.
Mr. Grant was talking to a woman with a shock of red hair, certainly not natural, in a gown that was very tight across her ample breasts. As Quinn suspected he was so unassuming, almost like a friend or a brother that the woman was sharing far more than was polite. There were many actors and actresses about; he would never get to all of them, so Quinn made her way over to a petite blonde who was a few inches shorter than herself.
"Good evening," she said in her deepest voice.