‘You make sport of our traditions,’ she called, searching the dark for some hint of him.‘Yet you never break them.I think you believe them as much as the rest of us.’
‘You have me.I promise, in all my days I will never wish you good luck before a show, and I will never say Macb—’
‘Cassius!Don’t you dare!’
He chuckled as he stepped out from beneath the stage.‘I am not backstage.I wouldn’t dream of bringing the curse of the black king upon us.The riggers would have me strung from the curtains.Which would be far worse luck than evoking any old superstition.’
Cassius leant against the wall beside his conductor’s podium, resting one foot on the lower step.His jacket unbuttoned, dressed in a morning suit with a tweed waistcoat and a black tie, he looked remarkably striking.Only Cassius could blend in with every other clerk on the street and still exude the cool confidence that was all his own, like he carried a concerto in his pocket.He’d always been like that—towering, calculating, and ready to scowl if something failed to please him, yet somehow unassuming.He rarely smiled his praise, sprinkling hints of approval by way of thoughtful nods, or muttered off-handed compliments likegoodorbetter.He’d once cut a musician from the orchestra for gossiping, stating that he could control a note but not an idle tongue prone to chatter, and that anything less than total obedience had no place in his world.The musicians feared him before they respected him, but they also knew what Karl and Odette knew—the crowds came because she was on the playbill, but they returned because Cassius gave them something extraordinary.When he conducted a performance, the audience didn’t so much lose track of time as they forgot time even existed.As the unifying force between the musicians and the stage, he pulled every thread between the two worlds and manipulated them like a puppet master.
Now he was ambling alongside the curved wall, to the spot where the floor in the orchestra pit sloped higher.He rested his palms on the stage—just about level with his shoulders—jumped, pulled himself up, and twisted to sit, his legs dangling off the edge.
That was another thing about Cassius.This combination of litheness and strength, of grace and machismo.Not even a curl had slipped out of place during the manoeuvre.He pushed himself to standing and crossed the stage, his movements as fluid as a tiger’s.No wonder all those neglected wives and lonely widows sent him letters of praise or commissioned him for ‘lessons’ and ‘private performances’.They followed him from theatre to theatre as a quiet and well-behaved entourage, and while no one cared about a man’s reputation for such things—certainly not in the way they obsessed over hers—he still conducted his affairs with care.Whether that was to protect his lovers, who were usually married, from scandal, or to control anything that might distract him from the music, she’d never determined.
He stopped less than a foot from her, so that she had to look up to meet his gaze.His smoke grey eyes shone brightly, even though shadows embraced his face in the weak light.How effortlessly he’d contained all his youthful beauty as a skilled pianist and allowed it to grow into the striking presence of the man commanding the orchestra.His eyebrows drew together into the crease that preceded a frown, and his lips twitched.Other men she could read like the bold print on a newspaper.Cassius was the fine print on a pamphlet that had smudged in the rain.
‘You are angry with me,’ she chanced, holding his stare.Odette looked down for no one, especially not for him.
‘And what would be the purpose of anger?You always get what you want.Princes.Dukes.Crowns.Why not me?’
‘Duchesses.Countesses.Diplomatic diversions.You get what you want, too.’
His lip twisted, not quite edging into a smirk.He thought himself so clever, but the stagehands and the ushers were on friendlier terms with her, and they were always happy to gossip about what they had seen and heard.
And she always listened.
He leant in, so close his coat brushed the lace ruff of her dress.Orange water and something softer, fresh linen and shaving soap, he even smelt camouflaged and secret.He was undoubtedly forming some barb, but she would not let him strike first.
‘How are you going to captivate me?’she asked.
His head jerked, and he mouthed the wordcaptivate, but did not give it voice.How delicious.How unexpected, to catch Cassius off guard, even if he reverted to stoicism with a breath.
‘You cannot justgo walkingwith someone like me.’She pivoted on her heel, swishing her dress with the movement.‘Nor can you stalk around in secret like you usually do.This affair must be believable and very public.Karl will not release you if you do not at least try to play the part of the devoted suitor.’
‘Perhaps you are entranced by me,’ he called after her.‘Perhaps I did nothing.Perhaps you are the lovesick fool.’
‘Now there’s a thought.’She spun to face him once more, then sauntered towards him, coming to a halt mere inches away.‘The soprano undone.Would you like to undo me, Cassius?’
Maybe it was a nudge too far, because something darker flashed in his eyes.Could she pursue it?Grasp a sliver of him, perhaps, to capture and comprehend more of who he was—and why?
But the lights around them flared, banishing the shadows along with his secrets, washing them both with their harsh, yellow glare.
‘Where are the lamps?And the ropes!Who blew out—what is this—’ The curtain billowed and rippled as Karl grasped its edge and tugged the swathe of red velvet aside.It slid away to reveal half of an upright piano, the smaller one he had bought because it fitted neatly on the upper level, for general use on stage.‘Piano rehearsal!’he boomed, his voice amplified by the acoustics and his enthusiasm.He scuttled to the back of the piano and began to push it from its hiding place.‘A new opera.A new beginning!A little help, if you please,’ he gasped between shoves and thrusts.
One of the tenors, Fernandez, emerged out of seemingly nowhere, leaping in to steady the instrument, and helped guide it to the centre of the stage.A small troop followed.Fernandez was joined by Gustav, who’d played the bass in their last show.Then followed two women Odette did not know, although she recognised the younger one from a performance last season.She had been in the chorus but selected for a solo line.She had sung well, but Odette could not recall her name.
‘Who is that young woman on the end?’she asked Cassius, leaning towards him.‘The pretty one?’
‘Not jealous, are you?Worried about someone stealing your spotlight?’
A hint of mockery rang through the words.Odette tried to contain the emotion but failed, and a small burst of laughter spilled from her lips.‘Oh darling,’ she murmured, with a sideways glance.‘I amneverworried about that.’Still, she studied the young woman.Her soft pink gown was far too good for a day dress, and her dark hair was arranged in a style far more suited to attending the opera than to rehearsing one.Inexperienced affectation could mean so many things.‘Does she have a mother or a father with her?Who is her manager?’
Cassius shrugged.‘How would I know?’
‘Introductions!’Karl exclaimed.‘Fernandez is tenor.He will be playing Willem, our…’ Karl squinted at the papers, then thrust a stack at Fernandez, ‘…devoted fiancé!Gustav, our bass, is the villain Seigneur d’Artois.Sidonie, fresh from the Paris stage, is our contralto and guild woman, while Miss Odette Delaney is, of course, our star soprano playing the damsel Marietta.’He passed her the score with an exaggerated, lopsided bow.He was such a shameless performer, and a terrible one.‘And, playing her young friend Lisette and also the understudy to Odette, is Freya.Freya will rehearse both with us and along with the other understudies from the chorus.Is that right, Mr Northcote?Have I remembered all the characters’ names…?’He cast a glance around the stage.‘Ezra?Where is Mr Northcote?He was meeting our patron, then escorting her in.Ezra!’Karl’s voice echoed across the empty theatre.‘Are you lost?We are onstage!’
The door at the far end of the theatre opened, forming a small rectangle of white between the seats.It was soon joined by a faint burst of chatter.
A prickle raced Odette’s spine.What wasshedoing here?
