His steady gaze passed over me for endless minutes while I waited for him to speak. The cigar aroma lingered, even on the rare occasion that the vile contraption was missing.
“It won’t happen again. It was a terrible mistake and I’ll never—”
“Indeed.” He squinted. “Miss Blythe, to what have you given your heart?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Who or what owns your heart? What do you love to distraction?”
Why was he asking this? “I love to dance.”
God. I should have answered, “God.” But I hadn’t, and the reply had been an honest one.
Fournier’s steady gaze remained, as if digging past my layers of poise to the truth.
“Please, sir. I’ve worked harder than anyone, spent every spare minute on my paces. Truly, I do love the ballet, and I’ve poured everything into it.” I’d often worked past the point of what I thought was exhaustion, but I’d fallen further instead of climbing.
“Then it should not be so hard. True love never leaves you this way.” Fournier shook my arms gently to limber them, andI wondered what other decent profession allowed a man to put his hands on a woman whenever he wished. Perhaps they were right, what they all said about the ballet, about dancers. A sweeping sense ofI don’t belong herewashed over me.
“Real love makes you likethat.” He turned me so I could see Philippe and Giuseppina just past the curtain, bodies delicately twining, dancing a romance under the lighted chandeliers.
With that, the Great Fournier turned back into the shadows and down the steps, leaving me to stare at the magnificent dancers who were just beyond my reach. I breathed slowly even as the pieces of my heart shattered around my slippered feet.
I would never be enough.
Before the curtain opened again for the final act, I knew I had two options. I could find the enchanted scarlet shoes and show the world how gloriously I could dance in them, or...
Jack.
The image of his smiling face followed me home that night where I lay in my bed, trying to snuff the glow of lights, the pounding music in my head. In the morning, I couldn’t bear to see the reviews. But when I emerged in the dining room, there was not one review lying on the table. With a frown, I hurried over and peeked on the seats, beneath the table.
Then I saw Minna, tending the rather large fire. Blackened newsprint curled in the hearth, then crumbled with a few jabs from her poker. “What are you doing?”
She frowned. “Reading reviews is terrible for the constitution.”
“Unless they’re positive.” Hers had been outlandishly so since she’d danced this role. Surely today’s were no different.
She scrunched her nose. “Those are worse than the bad ones.Praise is a quicksand, you know. The more you get, the more you need.”
“How ... how true.”
“Go on, take your tea. There’s nothing here to see.” Then she turned her back on me, poking at all the lovely words they’d said about her—and the likely wretched ones written about me. I laid a hand on her arm. “Thank you, Minna.”
She sniffed.
I had promised myself I wouldn’t look, but I would have.
After a hasty breakfast, I asked a stagehand cleaning the theater for directions and slipped out with a veil over my face toward Jack Dorian’s Winchester address. It was a stately three-story brick affair with bright green doors and tall, showy windows. I should expect no less of Jack Dorian. Yet when I knocked at the front door, the manservant blinked in confusion and pointed me toward a narrow stair running up the side of the building to the third floor. Obediently I climbed, my heavy skirts and wraps leaving me huffing by the end, and I rapped on the little door. I had no speech prepared, no shield for his barbs, no perfectly worded explanation.
As it turned out, I didn’t need them. He stood framed in his narrow doorway in shirtsleeves and suspenders, wiping his hands on a white linen towel as he considered me. “About time.” He tossed the rag into the room, grabbed a key and jacket from a hook, and slammed the door behind him. “Come along.”
Then his arm was about me and we were hurrying headlong down the steep stairs toward who knew what. I pulled the veil more firmly over my face.
“I assume this means you intend to hire me after all.”
I tensed. Hire? “Perhaps we should discuss the exact payment you require.”
“Later.” He propelled me forward with his very nature. “And you needn’t worry, it won’t be coin I request of you.”
