Page 1 of By Any Other Name

Chapter One

Edinburgh, 1807

Rylla Campbell had long ago prepared her escape from the house in the middle of the night, but she had never before had occasion to use her plan. Quietly she shut her door behind her and went on stocking feet to the stairs, her heart pounding all out of proportion to the risk she was taking.

Truthfully, it would have been an easy matter if only her friend Eleanor had not been staying with them until Christmas. Her parents, at the back of the house, were unlikely to hear her above her father’s snoring. But Eleanor was a light sleeper and her room lay between Rylla’s and the stairs. Though Elly was a dear friend, she was depressingly inflexible in her standards. She was the daughter of a minister in a small town, and worse, she seemed to have little taste for adventure. If she caught Rylla sneaking out of the house dressed in her brother’s old clothes, Elly would feel duty-bound to stop her.

Fortunately, Rylla made it to the bottom of the stairs without Eleanor popping out of her room. She eased open the front door and stepped into the dark night. Remnants of yesterday’s snow lingered near the base of the houses, but it was not falling tonight. Instead, fog hung in wisps and patches and the cobblestoned streets glistened wetly from the dampness in the cold air. Rylla shivered. It was just the cold, she thought. It was not because she was scared of being alone outside so late at night. She could not allow herself to be frightened. She had to find her brother. It was almost Christmas, and she had to bring him home.

Rylla went down the steps and started up the street. It was a trifle strange to walk alone like this in the hushed night. Strange, too, not to feel the movement of skirts around her legs as she walked. But she rather liked it. There was a freedom in wearing masculine attire—not just the ability to stride along at a rapid pace in breeches but the knowledge that no one would expect her to be shy or soft-spoken or sweetly dependent. Besides, though it was odd, even a little scary, there was a tingle of excitement, too, at the risk she was taking.

It would be a scandal if she were caught—and then there were the lurking dangers people whispered about. But Rylla was certain she could pull it off. As long as she convinced everyone she was a man, she need not worry about the horrors that awaited a lone female. In fact, she quite looked forward to entering the mysterious world that only men were allowed to know.

She was proud of the costume she had scavenged from a trunk in the attic. One of her brother’s old suits had to be altered only a trifle to fit her. The bulk of shirt, waistcoat, and jacket were enough to conceal the curves underneath. Thanks to the addition of a warm greatcoat, a hat, and a pair of Daniel’s old shoes stuffed with a sock in each toe, no one would suspect that this slender gentleman of medium height was in reality a woman. Rylla did wish she had thought to bring a fashionable cane to complete her costume, but it was not worth going back for it.

It was fortunate that they had cut off her hair this fall when she had caught a fever, so she did not have to wear a wig. Her froth of golden curls gave her a decidedly effeminate look, but she had managed to smooth her hair back and straighten it with pomade. That had had the added advantage of darkening the color. Her voice was naturally husky, so she need only lower her tone a bit more. She had practiced her gestures and walk in front of the mirror half the afternoon.

Rylla made her way toward the area below the castle, where she knew several of the gambling clubs Daniel frequented were located. They were not the staid gentlemen’s clubs where her father and his friends might go, but neither were they gambling hells of the sort springing up around the Grassmarket. She would be all right as long as she kept to games she knew and avoided deep play. She and Daniel had played cards for matchsticks many a winter evening. Having saved a good amount of her pin money, she could afford to lose a little.

She started at Faraday’s, standing behind the tables and idly watching the play. There was no sign of Daniel or any of his friends. Of course, she did not know many of his new friends—the ‘bad lot’ that had been the subject of that last terrible row between her brother and her father.

“First time here?” a pleasant male voice inquired.

Rylla turned, taken aback at being addressed by a stranger. She recovered quickly, adopting the careless, bored air of a fashionable young gentleman. “Yes. I’ve been told it’s deuced fine play.”

“Quite right. Name’s Harry Lindsay.” Her newfound friend gave her a nod.

“Rolly Campbell.” Rylla supplied the alias she had chosen for its similarity to her own name. “Perhaps you know my cousin, Daniel.”

“Daniel Campbell?” Harry Lindsay shook his head regretfully. “No, can’t say as I do.”

“He’s the chap who recommended it. Thought I might run into him.”

“He may come in if you stay. Say, there’s a table opening up. Shall we join it?”

Rylla strolled over to the table with him. She was hesitant to play, but she could hardly stand about all evening doing nothing. As they sat down, Harry made a joke that she did not understand, but since he and the man on her other side laughed, Rylla laughed as well.

One of the players at the table beside theirs glanced around at the sound of their laughter, and his gaze fell on Rylla. A curious feeling flickered through her. She looked away quickly. However, a moment later her eyes returned to the man. Even though he was lounging carelessly in his chair, it was easy to see that he was tall and lithely built. A sconce on the wall directly behind him gleamed on his gold hair, warming it with tones of red.

Rylla pulled her attention back to the game. Harry ordered a bottle of port, and “Rolly” could hardly refuse a convivial glass. She took a drink and struggled to conceal the fact that it burned all the way down to her stomach, where it exploded. She managed not to cough, though her eyes watered a bit. She turned aside to conceal her reaction and saw that the man at the other table was watching her again.

Rylla had a sudden fear that he had seen through her disguise. One of the other men at his table said something to him and he turned, smiling, and answered. His smile, she realized, warmed her insides as much as the liquor had, though fortunately not so explosively. She glanced back at him from time to time as they began to play.

She wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to look at him. He was attractive enough, though not astoundingly so. But there was something about his slightly tousled hair that made her want to reach out and smooth it into place. Her nerves danced when she looked at his long narrow fingers, adorned with a plain gold and onyx ring on one hand. Absently he turned the ring with his thumb now and then, and that, too, stirred an odd sensation in the pit of her stomach.

It was the liquor, she decided. She was doing her best to appear to drink it while only sipping, even going so far as to surreptitiously dump half a glass on the floor at her feet. Still, she could not avoid drinking entirely, especially since Harry filled up her glass every time it was low.

She listened for any mention of her brother or his friends and tried to work Daniel’s name unobtrusively into the conversation. It soon became clear that none of these men were going to be of any help. She wondered what the etiquette was for leaving a game. At least she had not lost all her money; indeed, she was a trifle ahead.

One of the men pulled out a cigar and offered her one from his case. She took it with what she hoped was an appearance of ease, covertly watching the others and copying their actions. The cigar, she discovered, was even fouler tasting than the port. It also made her cough. She downed the remainder of her glass just to remove the taste of the tobacco. After a couple of puffs, she mostly held the thing and knocked off the ash periodically. Now and again she would raise it to her lips without pulling the smoke into her mouth.

Rylla was beginning to wonder if men had any sense of taste, given the things they were willing to put in their mouths. It was time to move on, but when she made to leave, Harry protested and poured yet more port in her glass. She glanced over at the table where the man with the red-blonde hair had sat and felt some disappointment in seeing that he was gone. It took her a moment to find him standing against the wall, chatting. He used his hands as he talked, and his face lit up expressively. He smiled, and once again that odd buoyant sensation bloomed in her chest.

Next to her, Harry puffed out a stream of smoke, clouding the air, and Rylla’s stomach lurched. She was, she realized, feeling rather queasy. She remembered once when Daniel had been ill, he had told her privately that it was only from drinking so much the night before. Surely she had not drunk that much. She felt a trifle muddleheaded, but it wasn’t as if she was inebriated.

Suddenly the combination of liquor and cigar smoke was more than she could stand. It was far too warm in here, as well. She knew that if she did not leave immediately, she would embarrass herself by casting up her accounts in front of everyone. Rylla shoved back her chair and stood up. She sent her tablemates a smile that was more a grimace. Grabbing her hat and coat, she made for the door.

A man stepped back, knocking into her, and she stumbled. A hand lashed out and caught her arm, keeping her upright. Rylla turned her head and found herself looking up into the face of the man at whom she had been sneaking glances all evening.