CHAPTER 5
DUNDEE, MAY 1827
I had not known what to expect that night. Provost Thomas Bell held his ball in a detached house in the wealthier western section of the Nethergate, with half the great and the good of Dundee and surroundings attending. Baird had picked me up in his carriage, and we drove to the entrance in grand style, with the footmen in fancy dark-green-and-gold livery and the matching horses as gleaming as the coachwork of the chariot.
I took a deep breath as the coach pulled up outside the Provost’s house.
“Now don’t be nervous,” Baird said. “You are with me. If anybody says anything untoward, they will have me to answer to.” His smile never faltered.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked. “Why are you being so kind to me?”
Baird shook his head. “Because I like you,” he sa
