Perhaps what surged within Ezekiel was not rage but lust. He felt a gnawing impatience, as though something would not bend to his will.
When he stepped down from the carriage and entered the Schwaben ducal residence, Roella quickly followed. Inside the carriage she had shrunk into silence, but to be ignored so thoroughly now was more than she could endure.
“Ezekiel, what’s wrong? Did something displease you?”
“……”
“Was it urgent news? Why are you so angry?”
Striding toward his bedchamber, Ezekiel tore off his gloves and flung them into the butler’s hands. The quick-witted servant hurried to take his coat. He ripped his tie loose and cast it aside.
He felt bone-deep weariness, and his eyelids heavy. A knot of heat swelled inside his belly. That woman’s silhouette—shadowed, the pale line of her neck thrown whiter against black, the faint rose tint of her lips—was carved into his vision. When she lifted her hat, his breath itself had ceased.
He had thought, absurdly, of old tales where a monster leaps from a box. Her figure had been striking enough, but he believed her art of adornment and display was the greater marvel.
Yet what had emerged was a pure and exquisite face. Not the image he had fancied behind the curtain, but when seen directly, it belonged as naturally to that bewitching body as if carved for it.
The thought unsettled him. Never before had he been so seized by contemplation of a face. No—more accurate to say his mind was clogged full, incapable of other thought.
And that infuriated him.
“Afraid, and yet expectant.”
The actress’s low, floor-brushed song echoed back to him. Absurd notion. What had he to fear?
“Ezekiel!”
Roella’s voice shrilled. Ezekiel finally turned toward her.
His swollen sex had not subsided. He realized, suddenly, that even counting Roella, it had been half a year since last he lay with a woman.
That must be the reason for this ferocity of desire. Not Lady Laila herself. Anyone might be stirred by novelty of air.
Slowly he advanced upon Roella. In her eyes lay both expectation and fear—emotions he could easily read.
His hand cupped her cheek. His thumb stroked beneath her eye, and color flushed across her skin.
“What is this sudden—? Mm.”
He bent and crushed his lips to hers.
Roella forgot Ezekiel’s strange demeanor, forgot even that they had stormed out of the Imperial Palace’s music salon.
Sweet trembling wrapped her whole. As his tongue parted her teeth and wound about hers, her body flared hot.
She clung both arms around his neck. His hand slid down her back, loosed the laces of her gown, touched bare flesh.
The butler and servants, who had lingered, withdrew at once and closed the door. Breathless, flushed, Roella gazed up at Ezekiel with a pleading look.
He brushed her lips with his thumb. In his blue eyes, desire seethed. Knowing what he wanted, she willingly knelt before him.
She freed his trousers, and his cock sprang forth, monstrously erect. Roella held it with both hands as though handling some precious relic, and set her lips upon it.
“Mmh.”
Ezekiel let out a short groan, gripping her hair. Yet even then he thought of Laila’s fine-shaped lips.
They too would be as wet as this. A woman, once taken, was all the same.
Even so, excitement consumed him, and he thrust himself into Roella’s mouth with brutal urgency.
***
Ten days later, Lady Janette of Andex burst into the annex.
Olivia, sipping tea in the parlor, gave a wry smile at the bundle of envelopes in Janette’s hands. Since the music salon at the palace, this had become her daily ritual.
“When the Curtain Opens” had been a triumph. Invitations poured in, addressed to Lady Laila and to the Marel troupe alike. Nobles wished to host music salons, theaters proposed a full opera production.
And of course, many letters sought Lady Laila herself.
Janette found it all too delightful. As an ordinary noble daughter, even on her debut year she had never known such attention.
It was not jealousy she felt toward Olivia. The disparity between them was too great from the start, and she understood well enough the peculiar authority of a troupe-master.
“Anything amusing among them?”
Olivia asked with a laugh. Janette set down the stacks she had sorted into three.
“These are for the troupe, these for salons, and these for Laila’s personal invitations.”
“You’ve read them?”
“No. But the senders speak for themselves. Marquis Jalier gave me pause—which pile to put him in.”
He had written every day for ten days straight, unable to restrain his eagerness to discuss opera.
Olivia, though troupe-master, had no real depth of knowledge in music or opera itself, and it was becoming burdensome.
'Better to pass him to Director Marel.'
Even so, she worried he might steal away her people.
“And this.”
Janette, who liked to save the choicest morsel for last, handed her a separate letter. Olivia looked at her curiously.
“A letter from Count Zeppelin!”
“Oh.”
“What sort of reaction is that? Ferdinand, Count Zeppelin!”
Janette was alight with excitement.
Ferdinand was handsome. Not the overwhelming beauty of Duke Schwaben, but good enough to blend among young actors without offense.
Moreover, he had inherited his house young, and was still unmarried. Though his family line of Zeppelin was in decline, among the royalist faction’s young noblewomen he was considered an enviable prospect.
Olivia only gave a faint laugh.
“It’s not what you think.”
“And what is it I think?”
“That Count Zeppelin has fallen for me at first sight and seeks a tryst.”
“……”
“No. He only wants to speak on theater business.”
“Theater?”
“He owns one. It’s business.”
Janette could not hide her disappointment.
Olivia broke the seal. Until now she had ignored other theaters and declined salon invitations precisely to wait for this message. She did not need to stage anything at the Lich Theater, yet it would provide a natural chance to meet Ferdinand.
The letter was concise. If permitted, he would call on her himself, but if she wished to avoid idle gossip, he proposed to meet at the Lich Theater—or another place of her choosing.
Since the salon, Lady Laila’s beauty had become an obsession in society. Even at this stage, the mere fact of an unmarried young count visiting her would spark noise of proposals and romances.
Olivia swiftly penned her reply. The meeting place would be the Lich Theater, and there was no need to parade themselves for other eyes.