He gave a single nod. “Yes, but more so because your mother detested public intrusion. She was a quiet woman and embraced her privacy even in stardom. She wanted her private life to remain private. When she finished out her season at Craven and prepared to go abroad for Delphine’s tour, we married on her condition that our affairs remain private. She wished it that way always and lived every moment humbly.”
“That is how I knew her too.” It relieved me to say these words, to know she was truly as I’d always believed her to be after all.
“Viola quickly earned that famed title, and in time even outshone the original. It was as if she was born to be magnificent and only needed a fluke like that to prove herself. There was nothing false about her talent—not at all. Even if she was not the original Delphine, she was thetrueDelphine. When we got word that Jane Fawley would never dance again, we talked it over, the few of us at Craven who knew that Viola was standing in, and it was decided that she would take the name of Delphine Bessette and continue the role indefinitely. She worked harder than anyone I know, earning that name and dancing the part with such devotion—until the fire.”
Before I knew it, we stood before the boardinghouse door, but the story felt terribly unfinished. “Won’t you come inside? There’s a parlor where we can talk.”
“We won’t be disturbed?”
“No one ever uses it.”
He hesitated, looking me over, glancing behind us. “I suppose, for a moment.”
I unlocked the door and led him with a small oil lamp toward the parlor. I set it on a table and perched on the couch facing him, expectant. Nervous.
He sat, his face alight in the shadows as he processed various emotions, waging his own internal battles. He stared at my face until it grew warm, and I was thankful for the dimness. “I should have known. From the moment you approached me outside the theater, I should have seen her likeness in your very bearing, that unmistakable quiet grace, and known who you were. It’s ... remarkable. The fact that you even exist, that I have adaughter...” He touched my cheek hesitantly and with a quizzical frown, as if ensuring I was real.
My throat swelled, and I hardly knew what to say. All thesecret cracks of my fatherless heart rose to the surface, eager to be filled.
“I shall be a father to you, if you wish it. We can meet sometimes, in a quiet little shop or an empty park. Your needs will always be met, provided they’re not extravagant. My wife must not question...”
“Of course.” I forced a smile even as my heart sank. I’d heard what he said about Mama’s need for privacy, but I felt a faint wondering if he had other reasons for keeping their marriage a secret. Perhaps the thing between them that Mama couldn’t live with had been the same that had dogged my steps too—not enough.
“It wouldn’t do to have you appear at my home, of course. We must keep all this quiet. I’m sure you feel the same.”
I forced my heart to buoy with the truth. He had a new marriage to protect, plenty of secrets already, and a delicate reputation. He wasn’t Marcus de Silva anymore, and he had no way of reasonably explaining who I was—especially since no one had even known of his first marriage.
Still, I felt the slice of a knife through the thin cord that connected us.
He moved an inch closer. “You must tell me what you need, though. I’ve no idea about these things. I want to free you from having to depend on any other man to give you independence.”
I straightened. “I’ve never depended on a man.” Not even a father.
“I’ve heard someone has been watching out for you.”
“I have no abonné, and I’ve not fallen under the spell of Jack Dorian, if that’s what you’ve heard. Everyone may think what they like, but I’m smart enough to see what he truly is.” My words smarted against my lips. I couldn’t stop the guilt—thegrief—from swelling whenever I thought of him, and the way he’d looked at me when I’d told him my secret. Another turned back, another dismissal.
He looked me over, that steel-gray gaze passing over me entirely, missing nothing. “Pray, tell me what it is about Jack Dorian that offends you so? Perhaps I shall change my mind. Or yours. When he spoke to me of his interest, I rather liked him as a suitor for you.”
“Surely you’re aware of his reputation. How could anyone want such a man for one of his own?”
“Have you anything other than hearsay to base this ...reputationon?”
“His very manner. Why, he cannot help himself. His charm overflows onto every female in his vicinity.” Including an old beggar woman in Seven Dials. And an overlooked dancer who needed his help. But I glossed over those, pushed them aside with growing angst.
“You underestimate his affection for you.”
“Do I?” My fingers trembled where they clutched the wood frame of my seat. In reality my fatheroverestimated it.
“What other proof have you?”
My mind scrambled, latching to a small niggling memory. “Ask him about the bet. See what you think of his affection for me then.”
“Ah, the bet.” He leaned back on the horsehair sofa, folding his arms. “Yes, I’ve heard something of it.”
“He ... told you?” Heat climbed from my gown up my neck and face to think my father knew of the kiss.
“Actually it was Fournier who mentioned it to me the night we were at his house. Months ago, Jack Dorian bet Bellini, who had attempted several times to cut you from the company, thathe could make you into the most show-stopping dancer ever to grace Craven’s stage if they left you in. He stood his ground and convinced them you had it in you.”
