Page 19 of Our Strange Duet

“Philippe Cadieux.”

The name meant nothing to me, though I could tell from Meg’s expression of disbelief it should have been recognized.

“He’s a member of the Jockey Club.” She whispered the name of the exclusive group as if worried we’d be overheard by one of its aristocratic members. “He’s massively wealthy, on the board of directors for some dreary something or other.”

“And he’s marrying Lisette?” The idea was too strange to believe.

“He’s smitten with her! Says she caught his eye during her Faust solo—it was such a small bit, can you imagine?—and then he started coming to the stage door every night with dozens of roses for her. Her apartment is bursting with them all. There’s nowhere to sit!”

I wondered, briefly, what that would be like. To have someone who yearned to be with you every moment of every day. To look forward to seeing them too.

I have that, I thought, chastising myself. I have my Angel. And he gifts me things far more precious than roses.

But you’ve never seen him, another voice within me said, sneaking in the nasty little aside like a swift nick of a dagger.

We arrived at the end of the stairs and paused at the hallway split. One side would take Meg to her dressing room, and the other led toward mine.

“He’ll be there tonight. You can see how he fawns over her yourself.”

“I…” I paused, remorse flooding through my system. “I’m afraid I have other plans.”

Meg tsked in disapproval. “But we never see you anymore. Ever since you changed rooms, it’s like you’re off in an entirely different world.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“Please come? Just for a little bit?”

“I can’t—Meg!” I laughed as she stuck out her lower lip, pouting in a way that made her look so much younger than nineteen.

“We never spend time together. Not like we used to. I don’t even know what you’ve been up to recently. You could be in the throes of a wild affair with Monsieur Lefèvre, and I’d never know.” She brightened. “Wait—are you?”

I snorted. “No!”

She sighed, pained. “All you do is rehearse and go home.”

“That’s not all,” I protested, but I stopped short of explaining. The Angel of Music had never expressly forbidden me from telling others about him, but it seemed wrong to share the secret. In a company where I shared everything, from tights to hairpins, distilling anything unique about myself to blend into an identical horde, it felt deliciously wicked to hold something away, saving it for just myself.

But Meg misunderstood, her eyes immediately flickering with excitement. “Christine Daaé! You’ve been keeping secrets! What’s his name?”

“His name?” I repeated. “No. It’s not like that. I promise. There’s no one!”

“Christine has a beau!” she sang out, shrieking the news so loudly I winced.

“I don’t!”

“Where did you meet him? What’s he look like? Oh, Christine, tell me everything!”

“There’s nothing to tell. There’s no suitor,” I insisted.

Her face fell. “Then what it is?”

“I…” I swallowed, seeing no way out of it. “I’ve been taking music lessons.”

She wrinkled her nose, looking dubious. “Music lessons? For what?”

I licked my lips, fighting the urge to squirm. It sounded so silly as I readied to say it out loud. “I’ve been thinking about auditioning for something else in the operas. A…singing role.”

To her credit, Meg only raised an eyebrow, a gesture that made her look uncannily like her mother. “Truly?”