The kissing had been fleeting, frenzied, and in the end, fruitless. Her silent sobs and his own grief had risen up like a grim stone wall between them, dousing the fragile flame of his passion. A mortified silence fell on him as he looked down into Lily's confused eyes, and he felt bewildered himself.

He had just done something he had never imagined possible – he had kissed a woman. And even more incredible to him was that she had not shrunk back in terror or shied away. Then again, she didn't know what lay under his mask. But, he reasoned grimly, she probably had guessed there was a good reason for it. Still…for a few moments, her lips had been willing, and it would have been so easy to let his hands follow his mouth's example. But he hadn't, and she silently slipped away to her bedroom, leaving him in the darkness once again.

He realized, the next morning, as he adjusted his hated wig and mask, that it was a good thing that nothing else had happened – no matter what his tormented body had protested during the long, lonely night. Lily's heart was not yet healed from the wound that feckless boy had dealt it, and even he himself was not sure of his own feelings.

Drearily patting the mask into place, he silently reaffirmed for what seemed the thousandth time that it was Christine that he loved. He tried to summon the image of her – large and lovely before his eyes as she sang in the chapel for him. Yet the image was all too brief, almost pro forma. Instead, Lily's piquant little face shimmered into his vision, filling his thoughts with memories of her silliness, her strength and her silence.

He pulled the cuffs of his shirt out from the sleeves of his coat and made sure everything was in place and perfect before leaving his room.

A loud crashing sound told him that Lily was in the alcove that functioned as his meager kitchen, being equipped with only an old coal stove, a wooden table, and a collection of mismatched china and silverware – souvenirs of Carlotta's many tantrums in which many perfect sets of dishes were left without various pieces and had to be replaced with a newer and complete set.

"Lily!" he exclaimed, surveying the broken teapot lying in pieces on the ground.

She made an apologetic face and pointed to the hem of her gown. He remembered it was the one she had tried on yesterday before their disastrous expedition. It was a shade of evergreen and was far too large on her.

"You…tripped?" he asked, raising his good eyebrow.

Lily shrugged and sighed, then pointed to her teacup.

"You wanted tea," he said gently. "Why didn't you wake me?"

She snorted and put her hands on her hips.

"It would have been no trouble, Lily," he remonstrated, though he couldn't help smiling. "And, yes, I know that you can manage quite well yourself, my dear, but it is really my pleasure to do things like that for you."

There was an awkward moment of silence as the words he hadn't meant to say sunk in.

"Besides, it would have saved me the trouble of procuring a new teapot," he added hurriedly, praying that he was not blushing.

He watched her carefully, full of trepidation. But, to his amazement, she simply smiled her usual sunny, slightly-smirking grin and began to pick up the pieces of the pot.

"I…must go up for a bit today," he said hesitantly as he stooped over to help her. "If you think you can be as quiet as you were yesterday, you are welcome to join me."

He caught the look of amazement on the girl's face but avoided meeting her eyes.

"I know the days can be long…down here," he said quietly, standing up. "I thought another trip up above might…uh…cheer…or distract…uh…"

He was fast losing his train of thought because he had unwittingly caught Lily's clear gaze. There was something so terrifyingly lovely about the gentle look in her eyes that he felt he could not bear another moment of it.

Thankfully, Lily simply put down the shards of the pot on the table, reached up and patted his cheek in a most cheeky way and grinned.

He found himself smiling with relief and letting go of a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. It was all right. What had happened between them last night was just…just…an aberration between two broken hearts. They were compatriots in misery, that was all.

He noticed that Lily was looking at him again, this time a more thoughtful expression on her face, as if she was reading his mind and saw things differently.

"Come," he said curtly. "And for heaven's sake, try not to trip any more, or you'll give us away!"

Lily made a gesture the shocked him, choking him even as he tried not to laugh.

"No, and that is my final answer, Lily!" he said heatedly.

Lily stamped her foot, then hurried to catch up with him as he stalked through the passages back to his home on the lake.

"Are you mad?" he demanded, half-turning his head to look at her.

Lily's response was as precise as it was forceful. She smacked him on the arm with the back of her hand and gestured to him, a look of utter scorn on her face.

"Well, I do understand that my mode of living may appear a bit…eccentric," he conceded huffily. "But it is certainly no more mad than Carlotta with her puffball dog, perfume atomizers and room full of wigs!"

Lily canted her head to one side and set her jaw.

"We are not going to the masquerade ball, and that is final," he said as firmly as he could, praying it would be enough.

"I look ridiculous," he said glumly to his reflection.

Lily shook her head vigorously and clapped with delight.

"Red Death?" he scoffed. "Why can I not simply go as the Opera Ghost?"

Lily snorted disdainfully at such an obviously silly retort. She adjusted her own headdress and studied her reflection for a long moment in the mirror.

He watched her watching herself, and he found that she was unnervingly pretty in her costume of a peacock, with its brilliant blue silk skirts and peacock feathers on the low-cut bodice and mask. She hardly looked the ragged, beaten urchin he had rescued but a few weeks earlier.

He glanced at himself in the mirror and reflected that he was hardly himself either. A lifetime of carefully cultivated solitude had been pertly put aside by this silently charming interloper. She had disdained his mystique and treated him more like…like…a friend.

Then again, he thought ruefully to himself, with friends like her, who needed enemies to bring trouble?

"Why did you choose the peacock," he asked as he adjusted his cravat for the umpteenth time.

Lily looked thoughtful for a moment, as if she was puzzling something through. Then she swept over to his desk and took a lead pencil and piece of paper and wrote on it. She returned and handed it to him.

"Piaf?" he said, reading her rough handwriting and wrinkling his forehead. "What does a sparrow have to do with…"

He looked up and saw her grinning from beneath her peacock mask. And he laughed.

"Come," he said with a smile. "But I should warn you, I will not dance."

Lily tilted her head to the side and smiled complacently, making him hope he could remember what La Giry had taught him about waltzing.

A/N: Again, thank you to all my reviewers! While this chapter may seem a bit more like the "Diet Coke of evil" than the other chapters, all I can say is that it is leading up to better, more evil things at the masquerade ball!

Yours in mischief,

Kate