Olivia Twist(46)

Olivia leaned forward in her seat as a man joined in the song, his words unbeknownst to the woman: “The secret of her birth to me is only known, the secret of a life whose worth I prize beyond mine own, beyond mine own.” Or would Max respond as the man and cherish her despite her past? She couldn’t dismiss the fact there was one who knew all her secrets, yet protected her with his life—and he sat across the theater wooing her cousin.

Suddenly, the darkened box began to close in around her. Murmuring an excuse, she grabbed her reticule and stood, feeling her way along the brocade-covered wall and up the aisle stairs to the hallway. She didn’t stop until she reached the mezzanine level. The large atrium was empty save for a few ushers replacing candles in the lowered chandeliers, their wavering light casting discordant shadows on the walls. Olivia rushed to a nearby ladies’ washroom, ducked inside, and threw herself down at a vanity table.

She plucked off her gloves and stared at her own image in the mirror. From the sweetheart neckline of her rose-colored silk gown to the elaborate upsweep of her hair and the glint of paste jewels dangling from her ears, she was a lady of elegance and refinement. But a large part of her wanted to rip it all off. Tear the earbobs from her lobes, pluck the pins from her hair, and scream the truth of her identity to the world.

Instead, she unclenched her fists and lowered her face into her palms. She’d been hiding so long, she didn’t even know who she was anymore.

“Miss? Are you all right?”

Olivia raised her head and looked up to find a woman standing behind her. The lady was unfamiliar, with dark eyes and hair streaked with silver. She held Olivia’s gaze in the mirror, exuding poise and grace.

With a confidence she did not yet feel, Olivia answered, “Yes, I am . . . or at least, I will be.”

“I’ve been there myself.” A smile full of warmth and understanding lit her face, creasing the skin by her eyes. “I’ve found if one follows their heart, everything works out in the end.”

“My heart?” Olivia gripped the reticule in her lap, hundreds of beads digging into her palms. If her mother’s life had been any indication, the heart was far too fickle to follow.

The woman moved to the next vanity and leaned down to check her face. “You know, your intuition.” She turned and looked at Olivia, a bit of challenge shining in her gaze. “That small inner voice that most women ignore because they’re too concerned with living the life others expect.”

Olivia returned the woman’s stare for several seconds, wondering how she had read her thoughts. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good. Well, if you’ve collected yourself, there’s a gentleman waiting for you outside. He asked me to look in on you.”

Max. He’d come after her! Perhaps they weren’t so disconnected after all. Olivia rose to her feet, straightened her skirts, and dipped a quick curtsy to the woman. “Thank you for your kindness.”

The woman nodded with a knowing smile as Olivia rushed out the door and into the shadowed hallway, and almost walked past Jack.

Jack?

She stopped and looked up and down the passageway. He was the only one there. She walked over to where he leaned with a shoulder against the wall, one booted foot crossed in front of the other, comfortable as you please, watching her with a disconcerting familiarity.

“Jack, what are you doing here?”

He responded with a sardonic lift of one brow, as if the answer should be obvious. “Checking on you.” The deep timbre of his voice vibrated over her skin.

“Why? I—” Olivia stopped to swallow. “I thought you were angry with me.”

“I am . . . was.” A corner of his lips curled and he plucked off his top hat, dark hair falling into his eyes as he fidgeted with the ribbon around the brim. “But something was clearly wrong for you to leave in the middle of such an engaging performance.”

“How did you—Wait. Were you watching me?”

“Plays bore me.” He shrugged and met her gaze. “Besides, I don’t believe opera glasses were intended for the stage.”

“True enough.” Olivia’s heart skipped a beat as he confirmed he’d been watching her instead of the show. “What about Francesca?”

“What about her? I came to check on you.” His words melted through her like warm brandy, leaving her light headed.

Jack shifted to lean with his back against the wall and studied his fingernails. “Do you want to go somewhere with me . . . to talk?” His eyes lifted, burning into hers, and Olivia stopped breathing.

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

“I . . .” Did she want to leave the theater in the middle of the performance? Abandon both their companions without a word? With Jack?

He looked down at the tip of his shoe, shoved a hand in his pocket and waited, giving her time to decide. She noticed he’d removed his cravat, displaying the strong column of his throat; his too-long hair brushed his collar, and stubble darkened the hard angle of his jaw. He was danger and temptation personified. And she’d never wanted anything more in her life than to allow him to lead her where he may.

She glanced up and down the hallway. They were still very much alone. Could she truly shut down the warnings in her head and follow her heart? Listen to her inner voice?

Olivia moved toward him and his eyes widened a fraction, his whole body tensing. A thrill of power coursed through her, and she knew the answer. She took another step and tilted her face up to his. “Yes.”