She grasped the edge of the chair to steady herself, praying that he would not awaken.
Half his face…almost the entire right side…was a rough and discolored mass of twisted flesh…a complete distortion contrasting with the near perfection of the left side.
His wig, too, had fallen away as he slept for his hair was no longer smooth and black. It was light brown, touched here and there with early gray. An uneven patch of bare scalp stretched back from his right temple.
Almost instinctively, she touched her own face.
She remembered the stories that had followed the disappearance of her brother and Mademoiselle Daae…that moments before the chandelier crashed and ignited the theatre, the young soprano had pulled the mask from the Phantom's face…that beneath the black domino, his face was hideous…a monstrosity.
The reality was as terrible as those stories.
Yet she found that she wanted to kneel beside him and lay her hand on that deformity, to gentle caress it and hold him close, her head resting against his chest.
The pain in her ankle had become too much to bear and she hobbled back to the steps. Supporting herself against the cold stone of the wall, she made her way back up to his room…to his bed.
She lay there, unable to drive that haunting image from her mind.
She had seen faces like that…in Sicily…the faces of the corpses hanging in endless rows in the Capuchin vaults where her own husband now lay.
But they were the dead, crudely embalmed and in various states of decay.
This man was alive…so very alive. She had felt the warmth of his hands…felt the danger of his anger and seen the hints of the kindness in him.
She ran her hand slowly over the smooth black wool of his cape.
It had been almost two years since Theo's death and she mourned his death sincerely, despite its circumstances.
Now, for the first time in all those long months, she let herself hunger for a man's embrace…for the feel of his body next to hers as she slept.
It was a hunger that even the awful sight of his face could not drive away.
Is that why I came here…is that the real reason I came back to find him?
----------
She awoke to the sound of his voice and found him standing over her bed.
He still wore that deep green robe, but his mask and wig were in place.
"Get up and dress. I will fasten your…your corset and gown for you. I will wait until you are ready."
He laid her clothes on the bed beside her and lowered the velvet curtain behind him.
Setting aside the pretty nightdress, she pulled on her chemise and corset.
"Monsieur, will you please help me lace it?"
He was behind her in a second…she had not even heard him enter the room again.
"Why did you call me monsieur," he said, working quickly to tighten the stays.
"Because I don't know what else to call you," she said with a tiny gasp as he pulled the strings a little too tight. It was clear that, despite the quick dexterity of his hands, he was not accustomed to lacing a woman's corset.
Theo had been quite skilled at such things.
"No one has ever called me monsieur before," he said in a pensive tone as he picked up her dress and eased it over her head.
"I don't understand," she said, grateful that he had taken care not to shift her weight onto her injured ankle.
He did not explain himself. When he had buttoned her dress, he picked her up and carried her from the room.
"It's all right," she protested, even as she slipped her arm around his shoulders, "I can manage."
She could not admit to him that she had indeed walked on her ankle, that she had seen his face as he slept.
He set her down in his own chair, at his own desk. He had already cleared a space on its cluttered surface. Papers, pens, sticks of sealing wax, a broken pocket watch, a rumpled cravat…everything had been pushed aside to make room for a small covered tray.
On another table, a small brass ibrik was balanced on a tripod over a flame.
"There is coffee, if you would care for some."
She nodded, finding the tray contained a brioche and a fresh plum.
"Now, Comtessa, if you will excuse me," he said, setting the cup of hot coffee in front of her, "I am expecting company this morning."
She felt a sudden disappointment. She had hoped he would take breakfast with her. Instead, she watched him walk up the steps toward his room, the long robe swirling out after him.
"Monsieur, thank you."
He stopped and looked back at her. And, for a second, it seemed as if he tried to return her smile.