Before I turned and left the library, I noticed the morning paper sitting on the table. I folded it in half and returned to my room to see how much of my money Madeline had spent last month.

The letter on top of the pile had a return address from Lyon. I hesitated to open it when I saw it was from the Vicomte de Chagny. In the weeks that had followed our encounter I had forgotten him and his request concerning Alexandre that I had promised to consider.

I broke the seal and let out a groan as I skimmed through his brief letter.

Monsieur Kire,

I do hope you are well and that you have given my offer much thought. Once you have an answer for me, please send it to the address below.

Respectfully,

R. de Chagny

I folded his letter and returned it to the envelope. After lunch I would send him a reply. If he wanted to give Alex his inheritance I would not protest, but my son would not take his name.

My eyes were sore from a morning spent writing two operas due within weeks of one another. I glanced at the paper and determined the horrors of the world could wait until later.

I decided to remove my false hair and take a cat nap and attempt to sleep off the sugar that made me tremble. Living with a cat had shown me that a cat nap was anything but a nap. It was an all-day event. How in the hell can an animal that does nothing for hours need to sleep so long, I wondered as I lay down.

I knew I couldn't shut my eyes for long. Julia expected us over within the hour. At the most I had a half-hour to relax a bit and wait for the fit I had sent myself into to pass.

The cat, of course, joined me and found the most comfortable place on a double bed was my neck. Twice I attempted to move her toward my feet or by my side but she mewed at me in protest and curled up again, swatting me in the face with her tail.

My mind was wrapped around Julia as I lay on my side and stared at the wall. The amount of sugar I had just consumed with my lemonade prevented my parched eyes from closing and my rising anxiety worsened my state of mind. I didn't want her brother coming to Paris.

What a sight I would be at the dining room table—a trembling, red-eyed wretch fueled by my nerves and a bloodstream coursing with lemonade.

With her immaculate timing, Madeline pounded on the door just as the sugar wore off enough for me to doze. Damn that woman and her sixth sense! I swore she lived to irritate me and she was doing a fine job!

I stumbled to the door and jerked it opened. "Good afternoon, Madeline. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" I snapped.

"Were you sleeping?"

"Making a noble attempt," I muttered. "May I help you with something?"

She appeared nonplussed by my words and glanced past me into the darkened room. With a sigh of disgust I moved aside so she could enter. The woman was galling. She pulled up a chair and rifled through my papers.

"Such a mess," she said under her breath. "The rest of the room is spotless but this desk—God help you."

As much as she grated on my nerves I enjoyed Madeline. She was what a mother was supposed to be like—overbearing in an endearing way. God Bless Madeline and her meddling ways, I sardonically thought.

"May I help you with something or do you simply wish to deprive me of sleep?"

She turned her head to the side and faced me, studying me with a pensive look in her eyes. "That's why I came here, Erik. I wanted to ask you about keeping Meg up all night."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Last night in the kitchen," she said, attempting to jar my memory. "You kept her awake to make you dinner."

"What in the hell are you talking about? She was awake when I walked into the kitchen," I shouted, slamming my fist onto the wall. Her accusations infuriated me. Whenever something happened she suspected me first.

"Did you ask her to make dinner?" Madeline questioned.

I exhaled sharply through my nose. "She heated what remained of dinner on the stove. If you mean to ask me if she cooked a seven-course meal in the dead of night—"

"Do not ask her to stay up so late again. If you choose to stay in your room for dinner, I will make your meal."

The woman was giving me a headache.

"She said she was fine," I said slowly, attempting to keep my simmering irritation from boiling over.

"Did she..?"

"Yes, she told me."

Madeline straightened. "Erik, they have tried for many years to keep—". She waved her hand around. "Meg is afraid to try again if she loses this child. I'm begging you—"

"She's…" I didn't want to say the word pregnant. It was a strange word, an intimate word that sounded inherently vulgar. When Christine had come to tell me of the child she conceived she spat the word at me as though it were a disease. I looked away from Madeline. "She's…experienced this before?"

"Twice."

My lips parted. Twice. Meg and Charles had expected a child twice before and yet the only youth in the house was Alex.

"They were both very early," Madeline explained as if that would have lessened their heartache and mourning.

"When did this happen?" I stammered.

"That is unimportant. But please, I know you have compassion in you, Erik, please consider—"

"Does she need rest?" I asked as I turned back to face Madeline.

Madeline thought a moment. "She needs—"

I exhaled before Madeline finished. She would suggest that I hire on extra help for the time being. Though I couldn't keep her out of sight I could release her from duties or ratify her usual domestic responsibilities.

"I'll do what needs to be done," Madeline offered.

"You're…."

The word 'old' came to mind. She knew what I was about to say and looked fit to be tied as she rose stiffly, threw back her shoulders and headed toward the door.

"You're too kind," I said in an attempt to save myself though neither of us believed my words. It felt like spitting out cat hairs when I spoke.

"She's my daughter," Madeline said before she left.

"She's…family," I said before Madeline walked away.

She paused at the top of the stair and gaped at me. Without a word, her eyes filled with tears and she nodded.

"See to it that Alex is dressed and at Julia's home by two sharp," I said gruffly.

Her blubbering ended before it began. "Of course," she said before she walked down the stairs.

There was no use staying in the house a moment longer. I dressed, donned my hairpiece, straightened my hair, and glanced in the mirror. For my first lunch with Julia and Lisette I would wear my mask.

I feared I would frighten her if I didn't.

-0-

Julia was in the kitchen when I walked through the back door.

"You're early," she said without turning to face me.

Seeing her at the counter struck me like a match to a puddle of kerosene. It was pure torment to be suddenly engulfed in my amorous thoughts and know there was nothing to be done.

Still, it didn't keep me from at least attempting.

"Tell me, Madame," I said as I approached. "Have we begun courting?"

Before she could turn around, my hand slid around her waist and rested comfortably on her soft belly. She gasped at my sudden touch but leaned back against me.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Tell me," I said against her neck, my nose tickled by strands of her hair. "When does the courtship begin?"

"Today," she said.

The sound of her voice made me ache to be closer to her. My hand held her tighter while my free hand slowly traced a line from her earlobe to her shoulder blade. She softly moaned to my caress, which did nothing to douse the growing flames I felt consuming me from within.

I kissed the side of her neck, flicking my tongue against her flesh. She leaned further back and exhaled hard, turning her face to mine.

"We shouldn't," she said before my mouth closed over hers.

My hand moved from her belly to the small of her back as I pressed her up against the counter. Her hands linked around my neck, lips opening to mine in the most ungodly fusion of ecstasy and frustration. I wanted more than just her lips to mine.

In animalistic wanting I lifted her onto the counter and pulled her legs apart so that I was closer to her. My hands roved along her hips and sides up to her breasts. My thumbs ran across the hardened peaks struggling to be noticed beneath her clothing.

I would not neglect an inch of her flesh. My mouth searched hers as she pried at the mask, freeing me while I attempted to release her as well. I gathered her skirts and found my way beneath the multitude of fabric.

"No," she said against my face, her hands squeezing my upper arms. "Erik, no."

I released the passionate grip I had on her and stepped away, clearing my throat as I stared at the wooden floor. We both sighed in disappointment, which at least made me feel better that I wasn't the only one in need of a decent romp.

When I looked at her for the first time I saw her cheeks were flushed. She shook her head at me and playfully slapped my shoulder.

"Sit down," she said with a chuckle. "And cease your foolery."

"Until after lunch," I said, still grasping at hope.

"Until after we are wed," she corrected.

It sounded like a challenge.

"If we begin our courtship tomorrow…"

"Oh, Erik," she sighed as she turned away from me. "You make this more difficult than it has to be."

"This would not be difficult if there were not absurd rules involved."

"They're not absurd."

She didn't see me smirk as she stood with her back to me. "Ridiculous, then. Inane, if you wish."

"Proper," she corrected. "It's proper."

"It's pure hell."

She faced me for a moment and rolled her eyes. Before she turned I saw her smile. There was hope yet for my cause.

"If I can convince you," I said, reaching out to her. She didn't protest my hand running from her shoulder down to her elbow. "Will you agree?"

"Convince me? What? Are you a snake charmer?"

"If I convince you that we should continue with what we both find pleasing," I whispered. "The courtship continues with a slight…adjustment. And we may court for as long as you wish."

"Well, of course. Why buy the cow when the milk is free?" she said dryly. She pointed her cutting knife at the kitchen table. "Sit if you like. Archie brought a bottle of Leach Whiskey. Would you care to try it?"

"Is there a market they haven't infiltrated yet?"

"Archie said it's quite good," she replied. "Try some."

Whiskey. Who would have ever thought demons existed within a glass bottle?