A distant part of her mind acknowledged how out of place they seemed in this glittering company—Harry in his loud waistcoat and red jacket, Ulysses a golden-haired mannequin of a Southern gentleman. But they were her family as these wealthy, distinguished people could never be. They were showmen, professional charlatans, and yet they were the most honest of all. She loved them only a little less than she loved Morgan. And they were here to save him.
Ulysses paused in the center of the room, standing as tall as his stature permitted. He did not wear the protective robes and anonymity of the Little Professor. He was entirely exposed to the fascinated distaste of those who should have been his peers, and Athena knew how difficult it must have been for the gentle man who had been cast out of his own elite world.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “I see that Mr. French and I have arrived at a most propitious moment. We are members of French’s Fantastic Family Circus, who have recently been in the employ of Miss Athena Munroe.” He executed a bow in her direction. “I am Ulysses Marcus Aurelius Wakefield, and the gentleman beside me is Harold B. French. We have observed the events that have recently occurred involving Miss Munroe, Mr. Munroe, and Mr. Holt. It is now necessary to clarify statements that the latter two gentlemen have made with regard to Mr. Holt’s more distant past.”
Morgan took a sharp step toward Ulysses. “No.”
Ulysses lowered his gaze. “I regret breaking a confidence, my dear friend, but it must be done.”
Turning her back on Niall, Athena went to stand beside Morgan. She took his hand in hers. The tendons below his knuckles stood out like steel cords. She held him all the more tightly.
“It is true,” Ulysses said, “that Morgan Holt committed patricide, a most heinous crime among civilized peoples. Mr. Holt was tried and convicted and spent many years in prison. If it had not been for a single witness in his favor, he would have been sentenced to death. He neither defended himself nor attempted to escape, though he had many opportunities to do so during his incarceration.” He met Morgan’s gaze again. “I made it my business to learn all I could of the circumstances of this affair. I know the truth behind the tragedy.”
The ballroom might as well have been empty in its absolute silence. Heads topped by gleaming tiaras and meticulously pomaded hair turned from Ulysses to Morgan.
He stared at the floor and closed his eyes. His protest was so soft that Athena felt rather than heard it.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ulysses said, “Morgan Holt’s father left his wife, son, and daughter in California to seek a fortune in mining when Morgan was but a lad of thirteen. He promised to return but did not. His family was compelled to fend for itself with no source of income, until Morgan determined to go after his father and bring him home.
“He was fourteen when he left his mother and sister. I will not relate all the tribulations that he was forced to overcome in his journey, or how his childhood was lost before he attained the age of fifteen years. But when he reached Colorado Territory and found his father at last, he had learned how to hate.”
“Morgan,” Athena murmured, resting her forehead on his shoulder. “Oh, my love.”
“The claim his father had staked in the mountains was poor,” Ulysses went on, “but Aaron Holt would not give it up. He refused to return to his family, no matter how his son tried to persuade him. His lust for wealth was greater than his love. And so he and his son quarreled bitterly, and Morgan departed with many harsh words and an even greater despair.
“Many months later he returned and found his father again. But Aaron Holt had changed. He had fallen prey to men who make their living from cheating and theft, and they had left him—” Ulysses paused. “I beg your pardon, ladies, but what I am about to relate is not for delicate ears. You may wish to leave the room before I continue.”