Page 46 of Angel's Kiss
“Can I speak with you alone?” he asked, glancing at Julianne, who turned to Christine with a challenging look.
“It’s fine, Julianne,” Christine said, her eyes on the mirror and nothing else. “I’m perfectly safe.”
“You better stay that way,” Julianne muttered as she left the room.
“Alone at last,” Rameau smiled, standing and taking Christine’s hand. It was so easy for normal people to simply touch her, wasn’t it? “My dear, I am sympathetic to you. If there is someone you wish to, shall we say, conceal. It can be hard being the paramour of an opera star, especially if they are a powerful person.”
“What are you implying?”
“Not implying, proposing,” Rameau said, his rakish façade finally falling. “I know there is a war brewing in the Opera, and you’ve won a great victory. I want to be on your side and help you. And to be honest, I need you to help me too. I also have an assignation that requires some...concealment.”
“You mean Monsieur Moncharmin?” Christine asked without judgment. Rameau gave a sober nod.
“Let us help each other. I am a great performer, as are you. Cast me as your lover and you as mine for all who would enquire or ask, and we will keep everyone safe.” Erik tilted his head in interest. It was not the worst of plans. Christine turned to the mirror. To Rameau it would look like her examining her reflection, but Erik understood it. She was asking permission.
“It’s fine,” he whispered as soft as possible, his voice in her ear, and she nodded.
“We will be seen together tonight then. And leave together. Your carriage can simply drop me off behind the Opera. I’ll find my way home.”
“Well, we don’t need to work out that many details yet.”
“We do,” Christine replied. She turned to Rameau to offer her arm. “It seems I have made a deal with the devil.”
Rameau laughed, a sonorous, rumbling sound. “I doubt it is your first, my dear Christine.”
Erik listened to the sound of their voices as they retreated down the hall. He knew it would hurt, to watch her in theSalon du Danse, in the arms of another man – even if it was one that would never be a threat – but he could not stop himself from following. Something terrible was in his heart, woven with the memory of the boy. The one who still haunted Christine’s steps and life. The fear of seeing him touch her again stabbed Erik with more pain than the healing wound at his side. It was nothing compared to the pain he’d endure for her. Or cause. Did the young fool not know that Christine belonged to one alone?
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Raoul had experiencedso many emotions in the span of one night he felt as unraveled as in his first days at sea. He had gone from annoyance to resentment of the crowd’s applause for Carlotta, to utter delight at the woman’s strange fit of hysteria on stage that had revealed what a monster she was. Then to joy at hearing Christine again. She had been utterly wonderful, even better than before.
There had been such passion in the way she sang, such romance. Her duet with Faust had left Raoul fuming with jealousy that Carlos Fontana had been the object of even her false ardor, for it had been so enticing. And her final scene calling to the angels had been truly like hearing heaven. He wished he could tell her that she did not need to look to the beyond to find an angel of music, she was one.
But Raoul had to find her first. It had been nearly impossible to get backstage, and he was sure Sabine and Philippe had taken as much time as possible leaving the box and discussing their arrangements to get home, Antoine in tow. Finally, here he was, shoved in the packedSalon du Dansebehind the stage while the ballet rats and ladies of the chorus brazenly flirted with any man in a respectable jacket. Raoul ignored them all until he saw one dancer he had seen with Christine’s colored maid who claimed to be such a close friend.
“Excuse me, Mademoiselle?” he asked the girl with dark blonde curls.
“Jammes. Cécile Jammes,” she said with a smile. There was a smaller girl next to her who seemed overwhelmed by the entire event. “And this is Meg Giry. You’re Raoul de Chagny. Meg, don’t bother with this one. All he cares about is Christine. She’s all anyone cares about these days.” The venom in the dancer’s voice was truly terrifying.
“Jammes, be nice,” Meg muttered beside her. “He may want to talk to us.”
“Have you seen Christine?” he asked instead. Jammes sighed and dragged herself and her companion away. Raoul only had an instant to lament his lot before turned to the entrance of the gilded salon and at last saw the one person in all the world he wanted to see. Christine was there, radiant and smiling. And with another man.
Raoul should have been accustomed to jealousy by now, but to see her with the fiend was something else. Was that the bass who playedthe devil? Raoul strode through the crowd, blazing with indignation. Did she have to be so brazen? Christine had known he was in the audience tonight! There had been moments when he was sure the undeniable passion in her voice was for him.
“Is this him?” Raoul found himself demanding, stepping in front of Christine.
“If you mean the talented devil who failed to corrupt this shining soul – on stage at least – I am,” the basso replied.
Raoul frowned. “I was speaking to Mademoiselle Daaé.”
“Monsieur de Chagny, I do not believe you have met Robert Rameau, my...dear friend.” Christine’s cheeks were bright, and Raoul knew she was not the sort of hussy who would rouge them, which meant she was blushing in shame at her discovery.
“I asked you a question,” Raoul said, and Rameau gave a derisive sort of laugh that made Raoul disappointed that duels were illegal. “Is thishim?”
Christine swallowed, looking between the two men who sought her, and nodded tightly. “We needn’t make a scene.”
“You’re not good enough for her, do you know that?” Raoul demanded of the cad.
