Page 63 of House of Thorns
He drew a breath, a slow one, and a lazy look entered his eye.
Olivia swallowed. He was going to kiss her again. She knew it. Her eyes dropped to his lips, appearing so hard, as if carved from stone, yet so velvety smooth at the same time.
“Nicholas?” Florinda’s voice called from the hall.
Her angelic tones shattered the spell. Nicholas groaned in disappointment as Olivia pushed him back and moved past him into the hall, dragging the chair behind her.
The opera singer’s brown eyes were shining with emotion. “I beg you, Olivia, Imustsing these songs. I, alone. Do not allow another, I beg you. It isIwho must sing them first.”
Olivia drew a sharp breath and shoved the chair in place against the wall. “As much as I would be honored—nay, it would be a dream come true—I can’t evenbeginto pay the fee for a singer of your fame—”
“Oh, please,” Florinda interrupted, rolling her expressive eyes. “These songs will be forever tied to my name. I will becomehistoric. I ask for little, I assure you. Indeed, I would sing them for no fee if I’m given the exclusive rights to perform these songs for a year and a day.”
Olivia cast a sidelong glance at Nicholas as he arrived. Had he paid the woman to say such wonderful words? Did she owe him again, in addition to the roof?
A sudden bang from the front of the shop caused them all to turn as one toward the curtains.
“Olivia? Olivia?”
The next moment, Deborah flew down the narrow hallway, her hair tumbling loose about her shoulders and her eyes wide with fear.
“What is it? Whatever is it?” Olivia gasped, rushing to meet her with hands outstretched.
“Whatever shall I do?” Deborah sobbed, her voice hysterical. She squeezed Olivia’s hands tightly. “Blackmailed. I’m beingblackmailed.”
“Blackmailed?” Olivia repeated, stunned. “Who?”
“I don’t know,” Deborah wailed.
She threw herself into Olivia’s arms and burst into tears.
The piano in the parlor paused.
Olivia drew a breath. She couldn’t have her father upset. Taking Deborah by the arm, she guided her into the kitchen. They’d just stepped inside when the piano resumed. Olivia closed her eyes in relief. At least one crisis averted.
“What shall I do?” Deborah choked.
“Blackmailed? How?” Nicholas asked.
Olivia looked up. He’d followed them into the kitchen, his lean jaw tight and his eyes narrowed.
“The letter.” Deborah wiped her face and turned to Nicholas. “Whoever it is, they have the letter.”
The letter. Olivia winced. The accursed letter. Then, this washerfault, caused by her carelessness. The letter might have been sitting there for the week—who knew who could have taken it? “Forgive me, Deborah—”
“Oh, Olivia, who am I to judge another so harshly? How could it be your fault? It’s my own. I’m the one who ruined myself.” Deborah burst into fresh sobs.
Nicholas reached over to grasp her shoulders and give them a little shake. “Now is the time to fight back, Deborah. Compose yourself, my dear. Tell me, what are the demands?”
After several attempts, Deborah managed to answer in a tremulous voice, “A letter. I received a letter, yesterday morning, and in it was the first page of my own handwriting. The letter claimed I’d receive the rest of the pages if I left my mother’s jewelry at the church.” She choked, and then added in a whisper, “I did. I took the jewelry there last night, just as I was told. This morning, I only got a single page of mine in return, along with a new demand, for more.”
“Of course,” Nicholas murmured, locking his jaw. “You should have come to me first.”
“How could I?” Deborah wept. “I was so ashamed.”
She looked so lost, forlorn, that tears threatened Olivia’s own eyes. “It’s my fault,” she repeated, hoarsely. Neither Nicholas nor Deborah seemed to hear.
“May I see the demand, Deborah?” Nicholas asked. “Did you bring it?”
