Erik knocked on the hotel suite door at exactly seven o'clock. An unfamiliar maid opened the door and stared wide-eyed at him. Deciding on amusement instead of anger, Erik bowed slightly. "Good evening. I'm here to escort Her Ladyship."
"Mr. Dantes, right on time." Lillian floated towards him in a cloud of chiffon and perfume. "Thank you, Emily. I'll see you tomorrow morning at nine."
"Yes, ma'am. Goodnight, Your Ladyship, Sir." She pulled the door shut, leaving them alone in the suite.
"I thought she was frozen in place," Erik joked.
"Hmm. Yes. Obviously mesmerized by your overwhelming charm."
"Not to mention my good looks." He smirked. The ability to accept himself was something Erik was just learning to do.
Lillian pulled him into her arms. "Kiss me, Boy."
He obeyed instantly. He'd never known a woman as forward as Lillian. It was a revelation and he was enjoying it thoroughly. He rubbed the smooth side of his face against her hair. "Mmmm, you smell like jasmine. I've always loved that scent."
"Indeed," she said, kissing him lightly then moving away to pick up her wrap and evening bag. "This is the closest scent I've found to duplicating the bloom."
"It is remarkably close." Erik agreed, stepping back to let her pass him through the doorway.
Taking his arm, pressing it close to her body, she led him through the lobby and out onto the street. "From what I understand, the opera house isn't all that far. Shall we walk?"
"Of course, if that's what you want." Her hand wrapped around his left arm and he covered it with his own. It pulled his stitches a little, but he didn't care. He was just enjoying the feel of her body next to his. He'd never walked like this with a woman before, in public where anyone could see them. The cynical man in him realized that appearing at the opera with The Honorable Lady Lillian Featherstone, Dowager Baroness of Danby on his arm could do wonders for his social standing, but the boy from the cage was thrilled.
"So tell me, Erik," she held tighter to his arm as the street seemed to rock slightly from the weight of an overladen wagon with its team of six horses that had just passed them, "how did you come to know the scent of jasmine?"
For a moment, he thought of lying. It had become second nature to evade questions about his past. But this was Lillian, he couldn't bring himself to lie to her. "I lived in Persia for a while."
"Is that where you met Mr. Khan?"
"Not exactly. I'd been performing as a master magician across Russia and East Asia. The Shah at the time heard stories of me and wished to have me perform at his court. So he sent Nasir to find me and bring me to Persia."
"Whether you wanted to attend him or not?"
"I see you've met the Shah." Erik said with a sardonic grin.
"Actually, I have met one. The Shah who commissioned the palace at Mazenderan. He was quite the charmer when he wanted to be." Her eyes sparkled at a memory. "He was also a bit of a bully, didn't take it well when I politely refused his proposal."
"The Shah offered you marriage?"
"Marriage, to an impure white infidel? Don't be silly." She paused, making sure no one was within hearing distance of them. "He wanted me to be one of his concubines. I declined respectfully."
Erik grinned, imagining the scene. "That would have been worth seeing. Although I fear for anyone who actually was a witness."
"Luckily, the only witnesses were members of my expedition and we all left at daybreak the next morning. I was very relieved to get away. Although I don't mind telling you now, I kept looking over my shoulder until we left Persia.
"I will tell you what was worth seeing though, the palace. Oh, Erik, it was magnificent. I've never seen any building as beautiful. The Shah was very proud to show it off, although I do remember now, he did get angry when one of my colleagues asked about the architect."
"I'm sure he did," Erik murmured. "Ah, we've arrived."
"What do you mean?" She stopped walking, pulling at his arm to make him stop as well. "What do you know about it?"
He didn't realize she'd heard him. For a second he considered telling her about his past in Persia. Then realizing that would lead to other questions that he didn't want to answer, he paused. "Nothing. Just teasing. You wouldn't believe me if I told you. He took her by the elbow and continued walking up the steps into the opera house. "You said we had a box?"
She frowned at him, then turned politely to hand their tickets to an usher. "Box Ten, if you please."
Conversation stopped while they were guided to their seats. Upon entering the box, Erik noted to his discomfort that it wasn't an entirely private box. They were sharing with the Larmores, two of the senior leaders of San Francisco society. Their welcoming smiles for Lillian turned to frozen grimaces when they saw her escort.
"How lovely to see you again," Lillian beamed at the older couple. "I had no idea these wonderful tickets came from you. You really are most generous." She turned to present Erik, favoring him with a wink. "May I present Mr. Erik Dantes, my escort for the evening."
Muriel Larmore frowned, looking uncomfortable, but her husband Charles stood and offered a slight bow. "So glad you could join us, Baroness, and of course, you as well, Mr. Dantes."
Lillian sat gracefully in the unoccupied velvet covered chair at the front of the box. "Thank you so much for the tickets. I decided to bring Mr. Dantes, as he made the largest contribution to the Foundation." Her eyes twinkled with mirth at the expressions on the faces of the Larmores. "And he says he enjoys the opera."
"Oh? I don't believe I've seen you here before, Mr. Dantes." Charles Larmore made an effort to be polite.
"No. Unfortunately, running a business such as mine, which operates primarily after dark, doesn't leave me much of an opportunity to enjoy evening events such as these." Erik said smoothly.
"And yet you seem to have found the time tonight," Mrs. Larmore noted. "I must ask, Mr. Dantes, why do you find it necessary to wear a mask outside of your club? Is it to stir interest in your business, Club Undercover, is it?"
"Club Incognito." Erik place a hand on Lillian's shoulder, stopping the retort he knew was on her lips. "I can assure you, Mrs. Larmore, I wear this mask more for your benefit than for mine." The lights dimmed and Erik took his seat, secretly laughing at the open-mouthed expression on the older lady's face.
The conductor took his place and Bizet's overture commenced playing. Erik settled back into his chair. He hadn't lied to Lillian; he did love the opera. But he hadn't attended a performance since coming to America. He'd always been afraid of the memories it would stir. He was uncomfortable in this place, but he'd do anything to see Lillian smile and if he could hear the man judged the world's greatest tenor, an evening of discomfort was a small price to pay.
. . . .
The second intermission came and to his surprise, Erik found Mrs. Larmore's icy countenance had thawed a bit in her attitude towards him. "What did you think of Mr. Caruso so far, Mr. Dantes?"
"I think his voice is everything the publicity says it is. Although I do have a bit of trouble reconciling his appearance with his voice. He doesn't cut the most dashing figure."
"Really, Erik," Lillian spoke up. "I find him quite attractive."
"Hmmm. I suppose it's the purist in me," he continued, standing to stretch his back after sitting through two acts and the first intermission. "I'm always slightly disappointed when the story tells me one thing about the characters and the artists are so vastly different from the images I have in my head."
"I feel the same, Mr. Dantes," Muriel Larmore said. "We saw La Boheme last season, and it was extremely difficult to watch the starving artist Rodolpho and the consumptive Mimi looking as if they'd never missed a meal in their lives and had helped themselves to some other peoples' meals as well."
Erik chuckled at her words. "Yes, I quite agree. It does rather destroy the illusion that they're starving together in his garret." Their eyes met and she smiled at him. Erik found it to be both surprising and a bit unsettling.
"What difference does their appearance make?" Mr. Larmore asked, standing as well. "One doesn't go to the opera for the music or all the screeching in foreign languages. One goes to the opera to be seen and to make connections." He leaned in close to Erik and winked. "And for the pretty ballerinas in those short skirts, eh?"
"Charles!" Mrs. Larmore gave her husband a not so gentle slap on the arm with her fan. "Ignore him, Mr. Dantes, sometimes he can be quite the philistine."
Erik grinned, not quite knowing what to say and looking to Lillian for help.
"I heard a wonderful soprano last Autumn at Covent Garden." Lillian addressed them. "I think you all would have liked her. She sang Marguerite in Faust. She was quite slender and very lovely and her voice was exquisite. Almost angelic. I've never heard the Jewel Song sung so beautifully."
"Who was she?" Mrs. Larmore asked. "We're planning a European jaunt next year, maybe we'll be able to hear this wonderous soprano for ourselves."
"I'm trying to remember her name. She was French, I think, no not originally, but she debuted at the Palais Garnier if I remember correctly. Then there was a bit of a contretemps and she left the opera for a time. I think I heard she was engaged to a French Count, but that ended and she went into seclusion for a while. Oh, what was her name?"
"No matter," Mrs. Larmore waved her hand idly. "I'm sure you'll think of it and will tell us later."
"Oh Christ!" Mr. Larmore sputtered, "There's Rutherford and he's spotted me. I've been avoiding the man for weeks." He turned to the others in the box. "Please excuse me for a minute, I'm afraid I shall have to go over and say hello to him."
Lillian and Erik shared an amused glance at his hasty exit and Mrs. Larmore's put-out expression. "Now I remember," Lillian said, turning to Muriel. "Christine. That's the soprano's name. Christine Daaé."
"Oooh, yes. I think I did hear something about that scandal." Muriel leaned in toward Lillian and started whispering. "Let me tell you…."
Erik sat suddenly, feeling as if the floor shifted under his feet. Christine Daaé. That was a name he never wanted to hear again. He glanced at Lillian, fervently hoping she hadn't noticed his reaction. Christine. It all came rushing back, threatening to overwhelm him. He had to get himself under control. He sat quite still, trying to calm his racing pulse and push the memories down once more.
. . . .
"Oh, that was the most beautiful tenor voice I think I've ever heard. What a marvelous experience," Lillian enthused, entering the hotel suite. "Although why I wanted to walk back I'll never know." She kicked off her evening shoes, sighing contentedly and rubbing her feet. "That's much better."
Erik followed her into the suite, dropping his hat and overcoat on the same chair where she'd deposited her wrap. It had taken most of the remainder of the opera, but he finally managed to restore his equilibrium. He walked to the picture window overlooking the city. The image seemed to waver for a second, as if he was looking at it reflected in the water. He passed a hand over his face, then moved back to the settee.
"Are you all right?" Lillian sat beside him. She'd seen the move. "Is you head bothering you?"
"No." He faced her and smiled. "I think I'm just a bit tired; it's been a very long day." He looked around the suite, realizing they were completely alone and suddenly feeling a little awkward. Despite the events of the previous afternoon, Erik still felt unsure being alone around Lillian. Unsure of her exact feelings toward him and of his toward her. "Are you hungry?" he asked. "I believe the dining room is still open."
"Do you want to eat?" Her voice was low, her hand resting on his thigh. "Are you hungry?"
At that moment, food was the furthest thing from his mind. His hand dropped to cover hers, pressing it against his leg. "Not for food." He looked at her, questioning her intent.
She smiled, raising her hand to his bow tie and pulling it open. She moved on to open the buttons of his shirt as he sat perfectly still. She kissed him, teasing the seam of his lips with her tongue as his arms raised of their own accord to tighten around her.
He deepened the kiss, while his hands moved to her hair, pulling out the pins and letting it tumble in waves past her bared shoulders. His mouth moved to the supple skin of her neck, nipping the velvet flesh as she sighed and worked to push the evening jacket off his shoulders.
Her hand opened his shirt, slipping inside to caress his chest then move farther down to his waistband. "No," she smiled, "I'm not hungry for food at all." She kissed his heated flesh and pulled him to stand.
Her hand moved to his mask. She smiled when he made no attempt to stop her. Slipping her fingers under the edge, she lifted. Nothing happened. Erik looked down at her, a small grin on his face. She tried again. Again—nothing. "Erik, what?"
His smile grew. "Sorry. I made some modifications and thought I'd see if I could test them out tonight."
Her eyebrows arched as she stepped back to look at him. "Modifications?"
He gave a one-shoulder shrug. "I just wanted to make sure the mask wouldn't come off until I took it off. It's important."
"Really?" Lillian crossed her arms under her bosom and waited. The move had its guaranteed effect, deepening her already low decolletage and distracting Erik from his explanation. "You expected I'd want to take your mask off?"
"I-I-I hoped?" He stammered.
"Well one can always hope, can't one?" She smiled, lowering her lids and glancing up at him through her lashes. He almost stumbled back and she had to purse her lips firmly to keep from smiling.
He really had no experience with women. It was endearing in its own way. Then she remembered why and the amusement left her. She moved forward, reaching up behind his head and stroking his nape. "Erik, I'm a modern woman and even willing to be a bit experimental from time to time."
She slid her hands over his shoulders and down his back, just skimming the muscle beneath his waistband with her fingertips. "I'd even go so far as to say I'll let you wear socks in bed." She cupped his buttocks, pulling him against her body. Lillian smiled, feeling the effect of her move beneath the fine wool of his dress trousers. "But I absolutely will not allow you to wear that mask in my bed."
She held him there as he reached up and touched the mask, removing it with one hand. "Mmm, much better." She pulled his head forward, running the tip of her tongue over the shell of his ear.
"Stay with me tonight," she whispered, leading him into the bedroom. "Let us have this one last night together."
He heard but didn't understand what she meant. Then her hand brushed his hardness and thought fled.