Once more, the masked man chuckled. He stared at her silently for another moment.
For a reason Rose could not explain, her heart began to race again as she looked into the eyes, which were still too shrouded to reveal their color, that were watching her so intently. She broke his gaze and walked past him, giving him a wide berth, as she looked around the spacious veranda.
“I always feel closer to my mother when I come up here,” she murmured. “We used to climb atop here and sit together, looking out at all the roofs throughout London that we could see. My mother especially loved looking at the dome of Saint Paul, while I enjoyed watching the river from here…”
Rose shook her head. What was she doing? She did not even know the man.
“I apologize,” she said, her voice once more becoming polite but formal. Why did I confide all this in this man? What if he is, in fact, a psychopath?
Rose spared the man a glance and, to her surprise, he looked nothing like he did when they first began speaking, despite having not removed his mask.
“It is quite alright,” he said. His voice, like his expression, had changed. All traces of wit had evaporated and had been replaced by something gentler. Understanding, perhaps? Rose could not be sure, but she was beginning to feel less perturbed by the stranger’s presence, and more flustered all at once. She became acutely aware of the fact that the man was now studying her more carefully, and she shifted uncomfortably.
“It is a pre-performance ritual of mine,” the masked man said suddenly.
Rose looked at him, confused.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
The man laughed again.
“You asked me why I was not preparing for the show with my fellow actors,” he said gently. “It is because finding a nice, quiet place just before show time is something of a ritual for me.”
Rose blushed at her blunder. She could not understand why the stranger was affecting her so. She had spoken so eloquently and smoothly with all the men who had showered her with their compliments and attention. What was it about him that had her so nervous?
“Oh,” she said. “I see.”
She turned her back to him so he would not see the deepening blush in her cheeks. She tried to compose herself so that she could calmly excuse herself before she further embarrassed herself, but her heart continued to race, and she found that she was enjoying talking to him.
“It seems that, no matter how many times I step onto the stage, I still get quite nervous before each performance,” he continued, smiling almost apologetically.
“You will be wonderful,” Rose reassured the man warmly. She blinked, surprised at her sudden and sincere response. She did not know the mysterious man. She supposed that it came naturally to her, after so many years of speaking with many frightened and nervous actors.
The man seemed as surprised as Rose. After a moment, he gave her a bright, warm smile, and his bottomless blue eyes sparkled.
His smile was infectious, and Rose returned it.
“Do you ever plan to remove that mask?” she asked, her teasing tone returning.
The man looked at her with a sly smirk. Instead of answering her question, however, he closed much of the distance between them. Rose’s heart beat faster still as he took her hand and slowly put it to his lips. He gave her a gentle kiss across her knuckles, and Rose bit her lip to keep from giggling.
“I must be going,” he said, looking in her eyes. “The play will be starting shortly. I do truly hope to see you again.”
Rose smiled. Something about the man was indeed quite charming, despite the mystery of his identity. Or, perhaps, because of it.
“Well, it seems that the advantage you have over me would make it possible for you to see me again,” she said coyly.
He looked at her with bemusement.
“I am afraid I do not know what that advantage might be,” he said.
“It seems that no one knows who you are,” she said. “Including me. However, you now know that my father owns the theater, and therefore you undoubtedly know who I am.”
The man laughed pleasantly.
“You are quite right, Miss Danvers,” he said. “I suppose I am at a slight advantage.”
He smiled again and bowed formally, but once more refused to respond to her curiosity about his identity.
“Well, Rose Danvers, daughter of the theater owner,” he said. “I do hope that you enjoy the performance.”
With that, he seemed to melt into the shadows before he exited the veranda. Rose stared after him in wonder for a few moments more, before she too left the veranda and went to take her seat for the production
Chapter 4
The sound of applause never ceased to thrill Daniel.
As the curtain closed and that night’s production concluded, the excitement and pride were such that he had to remind himself to not rip off his mask as he joined his fellow actors in congratulating one another on a job well done.
Amongst the handshakes, back pats and compliments, a small group of actors, consisting mostly of extras and those with much smaller roles, had gathered around someone Daniel could not see through the crowd.
Presently, however, the loud female voice revealed her identity.
“Yes, I was rather magnificent, wasn’t I?” she said with a boisterous giggle. “Oh, really, you are all too kind.”
Daniel recognized the voice as that belonging to Miss Allison Beets. Daniel rolled his eyes as he recalled how she had flaunted herself all over the stage during rehearsals, making demands and throwing tantrums in the traditional diva fashion. She had even threatened to quit the production on many occasions, but Daniel had doubted that she would have ever made good on those threats. The production staff, however, had believed her bluff, and had proceeded to grovel and cater to her demands, which had disgusted Daniel. She had some measure of talent, to be sure, but she was hardly the best actress Daniel had ever seen, and not even the best in the current play.
Daniel tried to slip past the growing crowd and make his way further backstage. No such luck was to be had, however.
“Specter,” Allison called.
He groaned inwardly, not at the name, as it was the one with which he was christened by the staff, actors, and a few of the spectators of the theater. But he had desperately hoped to avoid catching the eye of any actor. Especially Allison Beets.
Outwardly, he turned slowly and gave the actress his best stage smile.
“Hello, Miss Beets,” Daniel said, nodding his head. “Wonderful performance this evening.”
“Yes, you are quite right,” she said, blushing and waving her hand fan coyly. “But I could not have performed so well without such a talented partner.”