“Burned,” she replied sharply. “He’s not deformed. I don’t believe there’s anything wrong with him other than a few scars.”
“Perhaps the beast has snared the beauty,” Marcus said with a choked laugh. “A little mystery, a few flowers, the promise of wealth and title...”
She glared at him. “You don’t know anything about him. Nor me, obviously, if you think that’s all it takes to win me.”
“Has he won you?” Marcus asked, suddenly serious. “Have you been seeing him outside the theater?”
She shook her head, unwilling to reveal her encounters with Prometheus. Despite their friendship, Marcus was a notorious gossip. She didn’t want him to complicate things even more than they were. “Of course not. If I had, would I be asking you all these questions?”
He gave her a suspicious glance, but then shrugged and squeezed her shoulder. “Well, I’m off then. See you tomorrow.”
As soon as he was gone, she shut her dressing room door and locked it, not wanting to be disturbed again. With a sigh of relief, she sat back down at her dressing room table, staring impassively at her face in the mirror.
She’d finally come to accept that her looks defined her, at least in everyone else’s eyes. She certainly wouldn’t be so successful if it weren’t for her beauty, because she knew her acting was only fair. She’d been told she had the ability to bring her emotions to her work, but she rather thought that was simply because she restrained herself so much at all other times.
Adrian, or whoever he was, had made her feel so much more than a pretty face. She could be herself around him, and she wanted so badly to give him the same comfort.
She reached out and ran her fingertips across the petal of one of the dead roses. It crumbled to dust, bringing a sting of tears to her eyes. Three weeks was such a long time. In her heart, she knew he was never going to come back to her. She’d ruined it, the only chance she might ever have of a life with him.
“No,” she whispered aloud, shaking her head. She wasn’t going to let this end. She wasn’t going to let him decide that she wasn’t strong enough to handle his scars.
If he wouldn’t come to her, she was going to have to go to him.
He wouldn’t be happy to see her. In fact, she knew he’d try to send her away, even after she’d proven that his scars didn’t matter.
Her plans faltered. What if his scars were terrible? What if the face behind that mask was as hideously ruined as he seemed to think it was? Could she manage not to react? Could she hold his gaze and convince him the beauty of his soul was all that mattered?
She hoped she truly was the kind of person who could say such a thing and mean it.
Perhaps, in the beginning, it would be easier to make him think her motives were less than pure. If she went to him and told him she knew his secret, that she wanted him to marry her so she could adopt Gabriel...
He would believe that. He would understand that she wanted his wealth and power.
And then perhaps, in time, she could convince him she wanted more, that she had seen the man behind the mask all along.
Chapter Nine
