I rested comfortably against the seats, and as my limbs buzzed with excitement under the warm blanket, the pull of sleepiness washed over me like a great ocean wave. Jack leaned my head against his shoulder, and I didn’t have the energy to resist. In fact, I closed my eyes.
I felt the rumble of his voice through his coat. “You truly think me a trifler still?”
I blinked open my eyes and looked up into his face, which looked far too concerned for such a beautiful night. “I consider you one of my very favorite friends.” With a happy smile, I rested again, allowing the slow-moving carriage to lull me. It was such a long trip back to the boardinghouse when one was hemmed into traffic, but after a full evening it was so much nicer than walking.
“Shall I tell you my big secret?” His low voice barely pierced the lovely cocoon of drowsiness, but I managed a small sound of assent and he went on. “It’s an act. All an act. Life is one big stage, and that’s the part that fits me best, so I wear it.”
“Well, you carry it off splendidly.”
The noisy streets—rattling carriages, loud voices, and distant boat horns—slid into the background as we rolled through the congested neighborhoods. I roused at the light “whoa” as our vehicle creaked to a stop. We’d returned to the boardinghouse and the night was over. I rubbed my face and only then did I realize how silent Jack had been. I looked up into his face, which was unabashedly tilted down toward me, watching. Examining. Knowing. Didn’t he tire of looking at the same plain face?
He smiled, but without the usual brightness.
“Thank you for a most wonderful lesson.” I hadn’t said it before, even once, had I? Perhaps that was what bothered him into silence. Yet Jack didn’t seem the type to be sore over that kind of oversight.
“You are most welcome, my lady.” He folded the lap rug and helped me alight, handing me down to the walk after springing out himself. “I hope you now feel sufficiently prepared for your new part.”
A smile tipped my lips up. Ah, yes. Ihadn’tdreamed it. I was to dance Paulina in the new production. “If I am, I have only you to thank.”
“Which means I’m entitled to my reward.”
The kiss. The bet. Now I was fully awake. I looked at him solemnly. “You did accomplish the impossible.”
“That I did.” He stepped closer, daring to brush a stray lock from my cheek. How mussed my hair must be.
I stood rooted to the walk, arms folded. Suddenly they were trembling. And bet or no bet, the intoxicating moonlight nearly had me willing to give him what he was about to ask. My voice came out soft and nervous. “Well? What is it you want?”
“What I want...” His voice was soft against the mufflednoise of the market two streets away, his look a sort of caress that I wished, in that moonlit moment, would materialize into reality. What would it be like for the charmer to come that close? His gaze lingered on each feature of my face. Then, while he still watched me, I felt something slide into my right hand. “What I want ... is for you tofly.”
With a playful smile, he tipped his hat and bounded back into the carriage, taking an essential piece of me with him. When had I become so attached to this man? When had the famed trifler become my dearest friend?
I looked down into my hands and saw a luscious pair of ivory satin slippers. I ran my fingers over their smooth shell, across the leather soles. The toes—that’s what was different. They were slightly stiff, and it was more than extra darning. I swept my fingers around inside. A leather pad and casing of some sort held the toe firm—so I could dance on them. I clutched them to me, blinking at the pair of swinging lanterns muted by fog in the distance. Tomorrow I would become a soloist in a Shakespearean ballet—and I would fly.
I stared after that surprising character, wondering what his role in my ballet would turn out to be. I had thought him a villain, then a friend. Yet he was threatening to break the cardinal rule of storytelling—after a night of theater and starlit dancing, he was beginning to outshine the hero. I heaved a deep sigh and tried to think of Philippe, but I couldn’t picture his face just then. Not beyond the memory of bright eyes and smiling lips.
“Marco.”The nearby whisper startled me.
“Polo.” Eyes wide, I looked around. It was a game we’d played in a crowded marketplace in that horrible year when we were too young to find work and we’d had to filch our food. There’d been some ancient Italian explorer by the name, andhis team had used this method to find each other again. I suppose I’d loved it so much because Mama had first used it with my father when they’d had their secret courtship. Lily and I thought it quite clever and adopted it as our own. And now, once again it was put to use.
My parcel-laden sister emerged from a shadowed bush, smiling in the worst way. “You’ve better taste than I thought. But I don’t know why you let him walk away without a kiss.”
My skin heated against the chilly air. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She stepped closer, her face aglow with sisterly knowing.
I groaned. “Oh, Lily, I haven’t any idea what to do. He isn’t who I meant to like.”
Her smile was fox-like. “Sometimes it cannot be helped, now can it? Love is a wonderful, terrible thing. Just don’t let it knock you off your feet when you aren’t looking.”
I noticed just then the shadows beneath her eyes, the ironic look on her face. “What’s got you so down in the mouth, Lil? That captain of yours stop coming around?”
She grimaced and shifted her load to the other hip. “Oh, he’s been around—just not alone. He won’t even look at me when she’s on his arm, as if he had sudden memory loss.”
“He’s under pressure to marry well, no doubt.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, he married quite well. But they’ve never been in love, and she’s a greedy little thing, and he’s—”
“What?” White stars of panic flashed before my eyes. “What sort of man do you have designs on, Lily?”
