A Trace of Deceit
Page 35
“The bell is just there.” I pointed to the metal box and hurried away to the far side of the street. From the shadows between two buildings, I observed the guard, Mr. Oliven, emerge from the guardhouse. He and the driver exchanged a few words, and Marceline was shifted out of the cab and into his arms.
She was so limp and motionless that she might have been dead. A hard lump filled my throat as I watched him carrying her across the lit courtyard to the front door, and I remembered the night I’d met her.
It was my first performance at the Octavian. I’d only had a few minutes before the show to leaf through the music Mr. Williams had given me, and I hadn’t noticed that two pages were missing from the final number. When we reached that part of the song, I’d fumbled and improvised, but it was clear to anyone watching that I’d made a mess of it. I’d barely closed the piano lid and gathered my things when Mr. Williams burst into the alcove red-faced and shouting. When I finally managed to get a word in edgewise to explain that the pages had been missing, he’d motioned violently toward the piano bench. “You fool! Why didn’t you look in there? If you do anything like this again, you’re finished!”
He’d stormed off, leaving me shaking. Finally, I opened the bench, and through my tears I saw the two missing pages.
Why on earth hadn’t they been in the portfolio where they belonged?
From the direction of the stage came footsteps and then, “Don’t take it to heart. He’s always bawling at someone.” The voice was feminine and musical, with a slight accent.
I looked up, blinking the tears back.
The young woman from the trapeze act stood at the threshold of the alcove. While she had been flying through the air, she looked lithe and powerful; up close she was petite and very pretty. Her long black hair was still coiled in braids around her head; her expression was sympathetic, and her eyes were dark and sparkling.
My attempt to recover my poise failed, and her lips parted in surprise. “Why—you’re a woman!”
I swallowed hard and nodded, too wretched to even attempt the lie.
“Don’t worry.” She came close enough that she could murmur. “I won’t give you away. It’s hard enough for us. If I could masquerade as a man, I would. But we get paid more if I’m in this.” She glanced down at her pale pink costume, which, in contrast to Sebastian’s severe black one, left her legs and arms bare and was embroidered with sparkling threads.
“And I get paid more if I’m in this,” I said, gesturing to my masculine garb.
She laughed.
I nodded toward the curtains through which Mr. Williams had vanished. “Does he really always shout like that?”
“Every night that I’ve been here,” she said airily. “I remember once I was late to the stage. He all but had a fit, I tell you! He looked like a rabid dog, with spit flying out of his mouth. And the horrid names he called me.” Her delicate eyebrows rose. “I thought Sebastian was going to hit him.”
A rueful laugh escaped me. “Well, I can’t hit him. I need the money.”
“So do we,” she said cheerfully. “So does everyone, I dare say. But he’ll forget it by tomorrow.”
“I hope so.”
She gave a crooked smile that revealed small white teeth. “My name’s Marceline. What’s yours?”
“Nell. It’s short for Elinor.”
She tipped her head toward me, her eyes thoughtful. “Well, Nell, I’ll see you tomorrow. And really, don’t worry about old Williams.” With a graceful little wave, she turned away and went to stage left where her brother was waiting, coat in hand.
I’d felt so grateful to her. I might not even have had the courage to return the following night if it hadn’t been for her kindness.
As the hospital door closed behind my friend, I blinked back the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. What vile person had beaten her and dumped her in that rotten little street? And where was Sebastian? Had something similar befallen him? Did he have any idea what had happened?
I waited until a light appeared in the room used for admitting new patients. I imagined the night nurse settling Marceline in a bed; then, feeling relieved that she was safe for this night at least, I started for home.
Praise for A Dangerous Duet
“Enter a world of teeming and dangerous cities portrayed in vitality and amazing detail. Meet characters with tremendous courage and appetite for life and be glad you can return at will to the present.”
—Anne Perry, New York Times bestselling author
“A captivating tale of mystery, history, and a dash of romance—with an ahead-of-her-time heroine who not only plays the piano with aplomb, but defies Victorian conventions, courts danger, and solves mysteries. Nell Hallam is a heroine to root for.”
—Susan Elia MacNeal, author of the New York Times bestselling Maggie Hope series
“With a delightful and spirited heroine—and just the right blend of suspense, detection, and romance—A Dangerous Duet offers a vivid tapestry of Victorian England, replete with dazzling music halls, intrepid police inspectors, and a menacing underworld.”
—Stefanie Pintoff, Edgar Award–winning author
“Historical fiction with a sinister twist and an engaging heroine.”
—G. M. Malliet, Agatha Award–winning author of the St. Just and Max Tudor mystery series
“[An] authentically researched and swift-moving tale of a gifted pianist who bravely disregards the specter of inheritable mental illness as she pursues her musical ambitions and plunges herself into a dangerous investigation of gang robbery and murder. With a touch of romance to spice things up!”
—Rosemary Simpson, author of What the Dead Leave Behind
Also by Karen Odden
A Dangerous Duet
A Lady in the Smoke
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
P.S.TM is a trademark of HarperCollins Publishers.
A TRACE OF DECEIT. Copyright © 2019 by Karen Odden. Excerpt from A DANGEROUS DUET © 2018 by Karen Odden. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Cover design by Yeon Kim
Cover photographs © Drunaa / Trevillion Images; © Lee Avison / Trevillion Images; © Alte Pinakothek, Munich, Germany / Bridgeman Images (painting)
Title page art © movit / Shutterstock, Inc.
FIRST EDITION
Digital Edition DECEMBER 2019 ISBN: 978-0-06-279663-9
Version 10262019
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-279662-2
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