Lucy stared sightlessly down at the stage. The Phantom’s voice was strangely hypnotic, and the semi-darkness created a sense of intimacy that made her want to share her deepest secrets. Up here, in the gods, they were in their own little world, removed from the hustle and bustle of the crowd. The shadowy box felt almost like the confessional booths she’d seen in Catholic churches, with the sinners conversing with a faceless priest from behind a concealing screen.
“Perhaps it is,” she admitted wryly. “But it’s not that easy. There are people here who’ve known me for years. People who refuse to see that I’m not the foolish, green girl I was when I left.”
Like Arden, she added silently.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Perhaps that’s all they see?”
She wrinkled her nose. “People put far too much store in beauty. The world would be a better place if we were judged on qualities like humor, and kindness, and bravery. Besides, the only man I everwantedto find me beautiful has no interest in me at all.”
She bit her lip, appalled that she’d let something so personal slip.
The phantom’s lips curved upward. “A classic case of unrequited love, eh? How Shakespearean. At least you didn’t drown yourself, like poor Ophelia.”
Lucy shook her head. She was supposed to be unlocking the Phantom’s secrets, not spilling her own.
“Areyoutrying to reinvent yourself by wearing that mask and haunting this theater?” she countered. “Here, you’re exciting and mysterious. I bet in real life you’re someone who writes tax law.”
He chuckled, and her stomach contracted at the deep sound. How odd—Arden was the only man who’d ever produced such intense reactions in her before. And yet there was something about the Phantom’s innate confidence that reminded her a little of him. Both were impossibly beguiling.
“I’m neither a banker, a lawyer, nor a clerk. You’ll have to keep guessing.”
Lucy suppressed a huff of frustration. She gestured at the actors playing Rosencrantz and Guildenstern on stage. Time for a different tack.
“So, what is it about the theater that you find so appealing?”
“It’s an escape,” he said, after a short pause. “There’s something for everyone, a play for every mood. Tragedies and comedies, opera and farce. It’slife,in all its messy glory, but in a neatly-rounded package, all wrapped up in a few hours.”
Arden had said something very similar.
“Thereissomething wonderfully predictable about a well-written play,” Lucy agreed. “All the loose ends are tied up. Mistakes are rectified, lovers reunited, and villains are punished.”
“Whereas in real life, good men die young, wicked men prosper, and virtue often goes unrewarded,” he murmured drily.
“Too true.” Lucy sighed. “Is the reason you’re wearing a mask because you’re wanted by Bow Street? Are you a highwayman? A cutpurse?”
“You seem to be blessed with a highly active imagination, Miss Montgomery.” Amusement honeyed his tone. “And no. I’m not a fugitive from the law.”
“Some say it’s because you’ve been scarred,” she persisted doggedly. “That you were once a soldier. Isthattrue?”
He stilled, and she cursed herself for pushing so hard.
“Yes, that’s true,” he said finally, and she let out a tiny, relieved breath that he wasn’t leaving in a huff. “I was a soldier.”
“And were you hurt?”
“I was. At Waterloo.”
Lucy did some swift mental calculation. Napoleon’s final defeat had happened two years ago. She’d been in Brazil at the time, and it had taken several weeks for the news to reach them.
“I’m lucky to be alive,” the Phantom said softly. “I might have scars, but many of my friends were cut down in their prime. It’s a privilege just to be here.”
Lucy’s heart squeezed in sympathy and she straightened her spine against the urge to turn around and comfort him. To cover his hand with her own.
“I know that feeling,” she whispered. “I nearly drowned when our ship hit a reef. Luckily, most of us managed to reach a nearby island with the lifeboats. When the storm died down, we salvaged a few things from the wreck, like canvas, an axe, and a tinder box. It wasn’t so terrible, in the end. We had fresh water, food, fire, and shelter. Those are the most important things.”
A strangely companionable silence settled between them, an unspoken understanding of triumphing over adversity.
“People are far more necessary thanthings,” Lucy continued softly. “One can live with relatively little in terms of possessions, but having your health, and people you love around you . . . those things are essential to happiness. To life.”
