Page 18 of House of Thorns
Chapter Six
A Friendship Lost
Louisa sang like an angel, but Olivia couldn’t enjoy a single note. Her thoughts whirled in endless circles as she sat in the very last row of the Theater Royale’s mezzanine. The print shop roof had sprung another leak during the night. That made four now. She grimaced. She’d have to climb up and mend the roof tiles herself. She couldn’t afford a roofer.
On the stage, Louisa belted her aria. The stage lights caught on the glass beads sewn onto her dress, making her glisten like a star.
Olivia glanced around at the enraptured audience and permitted herself a small smile. They were so entranced, they would insist on at least two encores—both of which Olivia had contracted Louisa to sing,The Soldier’s AdieuandFly Swiftly, Ye Moments. The songs were new, popular, and as yet, she was the only music publishing house to carry them. They’d sell well.
Finally, Louisa shrilled the last note and the large, red velvet curtain dropped, signaling the start of intermission.
Olivia rose from her seat and descended the marble stairs leading into the opera house lobby. Halfway down, she paused with her hand on the brass railing and surveyed the small groups of elegantly clad women and men as they chatted under the pendant chandelier. So many potential customers. With a bright smile, she joined them and began working her way through the crowd.
She’d just dropped what must have been her fiftieth hint that Mackenzie Publishing House kept a wide variety of sheet music for the musically inclined when she heard her name.
“Olivia! Olivia, child.”
Olivia turned to see Lady Blair standing under a large, gilt framed mirror and waving her fan. Dressed in a dark burgundy satin gown with a matching turban and a strand of pearls clasped about her neck, she exuded an unmatchable air of grace and elegance.
Olivia smiled and hurried to her side, but she’d only closed the distance halfway when she suddenly remembered her letter. Heavens, what if her rake of a son had told her what she’d written? She tripped as a thread of alarm snaked through her.
“Olivia? What is it, child?” A flare of concern crossed Lady Blair’s face. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
Olivia bobbed a quick curtsey. “Forgive me, my lady. I was simply lost in thought.” She searched Lady Blair’s face for any sign of displeasure, but to her great relief, found none.
“Lost in thought, child? I must admit, you do seem rather distracted.” Lady Blair’s eyes took on a sly, hopeful expression. “May I inquire the nature?”
Olivia suppressed a snort, recognizing the look. As ever, Lady Blair sought to play the role of the matchmaker. “I fear I will only disappoint you in that regard,” she replied.
Few men desired a wife who understood a printing press better than how to dance a quadrille.
“Do come visit Wedderburn, will you, child?” Lady Blair gave her arm a warm squeeze. “My son will be here tomorrow. I would so dearly love the two of you to meet.”
Olivia shifted uneasily. Tomorrow? Hopefully, his return signaled his plan to make things right with Deborah. Lord above, she could only pray he’d keep her part in the matter to himself.
“That would be lovely, my lady,” she murmured, forcing a smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I must be going. Duty calls.”
Lady Blair smiled in approval. “You do your father credit, child. I wish you the best of luck. Please, when you return home, give him my greetings.”
This time, the smile curving Olivia’s lips was genuine as she ducked away.
The bell chimed shortly after, signaling the end of intermission and Olivia returned to her seat.
Again, Louisa delivered a flawless performance, and again, Olivia paid little heed. Time flew, and before she thought possible, Louisa lay dying on the stage, warbling her last solo as the women in the audience sniffed emotionally behind their fans.
Finally, the last note died away, and the audience rose to applaud, Olivia among them. Again and again, they called Louisa back on stage until at last, she smoothed her skirts for the encore.
The piano began to play, but by the third note, Olivia’s heart began to pound.
Louisa was singing the wrong song. Why?
As the strains of Moore’sWhen Love Is Kindfilled the opera house, Olivia began to panic. She didn’t have Moore’s score, nor any sheet music of the song. Only James Rotherham’s publishing house still carried the song. She clenched her fingers into fists. When her customers arrived in the morning to discover she hadn’t a single sheet printed, they’d think her a liar. Her reputation would be ruined.
As Louisa began the second verse, Olivia leapt from her seat, dashed down the stairs, and headed down the hallway to the back of the opera house. Nausea roiled her stomach. She couldn’t afford another financial blunder, not with the final concert payment due—as well as the payments for the ink and printing press repairs. The pending loss of sales would be a devastating blow to her already fragile position.
She bit her lip and charged around the corner.
To her surprise, a burly, red-faced man with a crooked nose lounged against the door leading to the back of the stage.
