My thoughts drifted back to the present with one glimpse of Jack Dorian’s face, contorted with some odd emotion in the shadows as he listened to me go on about Philippe and our surreal encounter so many years ago. His expression seemed to say the situation was more hopeless than he’d thought.
Good. Perhaps he’d give up on the bet, then.
I let my story dangle in the air between us and shifted back, the hard leather squeaking as it accepted my weight. I’d forgotten myself, and I suddenly felt as if I’d been discovered in nothing more than my shift.
“Why haven’t you reminded him of your acquaintance? Surely a previous encounter with the principal of the theater would be advantageous for a woman in your position.”
“I never thought to use it in such a way. I want to earn my place in the company. Besides”—I tipped my face away so he couldn’t see it—“he doesn’t remember it.”
Those eyes. They were piercing on the soul level. I could feel them even though I had turned away. “You’ll never know unless you bring it up. Perhaps he believes it isyouwho’s forgotten. Or perhaps he’s afraid you will not like what you see of him in the light of day.”
My mind grasped at similar words from Mama, when she’d spoken of my father in that breathy voice of lost love. Nothing, it seemed, remained the same once the room quit whirling and the world came back into focus. But I made a hard turn, not allowing my mind to travel down the road of comparison.
I gripped the seat as another thought occurred to me. “How did you know I’ve not said anything to Philippe?”
“He’d have told me.”
“You are friends?”
He shifted. “In a manner of speaking, yes. I suppose we are.”
I watched Jack squirm in the shadows, recalling the night of silent sparring between him and Philippe. His look told me they’doncebeen friends, but that had changed. Along with so many other things in Philippe’s life these past years. “If you are friends, I suppose you’ll know what’s happened to him.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Happened?”
“He’s burdened now. Heavy. Something’s befallen him, and it’s unsettling to always wonder what it could be.”
“Then I suppose you’ll have to remain unsettled. Those are his secrets, not mine.”
“Speaking of secrets, you promised more about Marcus de Silva. I’ve revealed my connection to Philippe—now it’s your turn.”
He watched me, evaluating something. “How odd it’s never occurred to me before, but their secrets and their stories ... well, they’re eerily similar.”
I stiffened. It was as if a ghost I’d imagined I’d seen for quite a while was now pointed out by someone else.
“Let us hope Philippe turns a corner that Marcus de Silva did not. I’d like to see him find a happier end than the poor olddanseurof years past.”
“Of course.”
He heaved a sigh, leaning back against the seat. “Now, Marcus de Silva. What would you like to know?”
“How are you connected to him?”
He considered my question for a moment before answering. “He sought me out. When I was a sorry twig of a boy, he saw something in me and offered to teach me about theater. I left the circus with all its troubles to go off and join the cavalry, until de Silva found me and held out his hand to help me. With his connections and training, I went on to adapt ballets and work with the Great Fournier. I had no hope, no family once. He changed the course of my life.”
“No wonder you’re so protective of him.”
“He’s a fine man, but with wounds, like everyone. Still, he stood there and pulled me up when I needed it most, and I’ll never think ill of him.”
I pressed my lips together and imagined Marcus de Silva, my father, reaching out to help some poor lad from the circus, from the cavalry, at his fine London residence with marble floors and jewel-crusted vases—at least, that’s how I imagined hishome—while his own daughter and wife scratched out their survival in a dirty little rookery mere streets away.
“Did he ask you to find me? To find out what had become of his child?”
“He wouldn’t. He never asks those kinds of favors. In fact, he never told me he had a child. Those of us in the theater are often quite private.”
I accepted this and sat back. “He was quite good then, years ago? As a dancer, I mean.”
“One of the finest onstage. He came into his own at Craven and could have gone anywhere in the world. They say he only remained because he fell in love with someone at Craven. But then Delphine became angry and ... well, it changed everything for him.”
