Clockwork Phantom

Chapter 1-3

Lucille held the mask for Marie to admire. “It is made from a material that will appear to glow, or at least I hope it will, in the Professor’s new aether light.”

“What happened to the old costume?” Marie asked, afraid of the answer. “And when did this one arrive?”

Lucille waved a hand. “I sold the previous one to one of our noble patrons for his parlor games. He has a mistress who likes strange bedroom role-plays. Death should be tattered, but that old costume had so many holes you could see the person underneath. Another reason it was perfect for the Count.”

Marie had long since grown out of the tendency to blush at the mention of s*x, but the image of her and Maestro Bledsoe playing out a scandalous scene with the costume flashed through her brain. He stood beside her, and she couldn’t help but be aware of his broad shoulders and chest that tapered toward a narrow but still manly waist.

“Well, this leaves us with a problem,” he said.

“Several,” Marie murmured and widened the distance between them as she reminded herself that he was a selfish sort, as the English would say. “But yes, we’re back to needing to know what frightened Corinne.”

Lucille put a hand on Marie’s cheek. “Mon Dieu, your skin is cold. What did you do, go chasing after her, you silly fille? You need to preserve your voice, not risk it by running into the cold without a cloak.”

“I had a coat,” Marie said with a sideways glance up at the musician. He grinned but didn’t say anything, for which she was grateful.

“As for what frightened Corinne, bah!” Lucille banged her cane on the floor. “She was always a silly, superstitious girl, particularly once she became the premiere femme. As for you, go to the Chambre d’Etoile. You need to practice your lines, and I will send Madame Beaufort to start fitting the costumes to you. They will all need to be let out.” She pinched Marie on the waist.

Marie moved away from her mother’s critical, prying words and fingers. “Yes, that would be wise, so I don’t burst through the seams on opening night.” The look on Johann’s face made heat bloom in her chest. “I mean, it’s not going to be that kind of show.” Still not helping. I need to get rid of him. She curtsied and said, “Maestro, thank you for your assistance. I’m sure you preserved my ability to perform in this detestable play.”

“Any time,” he replied with a cough. His cupid’s bow lips were pulled back into a grin that said he tried not to laugh at Lucille’s ridiculous antics. “And I think the costumes will look better on you, anyway. You have a more classical figure.”

“Thank you. If you’ll excuse me.”

Marie fled from the genuine admiration in his eyes and the answering expansion of gratification in her middle. Silly girl, you can’t get stupid over a man who does something nice for you. But her mind turned to the feel of the soft wool coat being placed on her shoulders by his large, strong hands.

Maybe having to take the lead in this play is a good thing. If I’m going to lose part of myself, I’d prefer it go to a role than to a man.

Now anxiety replaced any warm feeling she’d gotten from the maestro’s complimentary look, and she had to catch herself and lean against the nearest wall while waiting for her heart to stop its pounding in her throat. She would have to take the stage again and face the loss of part of her soul.