The Cerulean (The Cerulean Duology #1) - Amy Ewing Page 0,27

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.

“But . . . The Great Picando made over fifty thousand krogers in its first week,” Leo said, as if he’d just memorized the list of facts and figures.

“Fifty thousand is nothing to boast about, Leo,” Xavier said, the hint of a chill in his voice. “Picando did not have the run I expected it to. There are far too many anti-Talman plays glutting the theaters of Old Port. No, it is time for a change in direction.”

Swansea glided in at that moment and handed Xavier a leather portfolio.

“I saw the old advertisements for this Picando at the Seaport when I arrived,” Kiernan said. “I am sorry to