Page 15 of Eva (Symbols of Love #3)

Chapter Fifteen

J osiah could feel Beatrice’s exasperation practically radiating through her skin. She was a challenging partner at the best of times, demanding and unyielding, which was the primary reason that he had made her the female lead of his troupe. She was the sort of dancer who expected excellence, not just from her partner, but from herself as well. She had no time or patience for novices, no matter how much their friends contributed to the purse.

“I simply do not understand why you invited her here in the first place,” Beatrice griped for about the dozenth time that morning.

“Because I believe that she will find it edifying,” Josiah repeated, his tone carefully even.

Beatrice made a dismissive sound. “What does a lady of the ton need to come to a dance rehearsal for edification ? Let her sit around with her empty-headed friends and talk about poetry and watercolours.”

Josiah sighed. There was no point in arguing with Beatrice when she was in one of these moods. He remained focused on the task at hand, which was to attempt to get everyone prepared for the performance that weekend. It wasn’t all Beatrice’s fault, anyway; he was frustrated by the lack of progress shown by the dancers, and for some reason, he wanted it all to be perfect for Eva specifically.

It was nonsensical, really, demanding that a rehearsal go perfectly still several days out from the performance; it was especially nonsensical to hope that it would go perfectly because no one special, simply a student, was coming to view it. But of course, following that logic, it stood to reason that Eva was someone special, else he would not be going to these lengths to make things just so.

He didn’t care to dwell on that.

And then, there she was. He caught a glimpse of her, her face shadowed in hues of red from the curtain. She was tucked well away in the wings, but there was no mistaking her. Eva was busy speaking to someone else, another young lady that Josiah did not recognise. His mouth quirked, threatening to smile, which really would Not Do when he had a rehearsal to run. He clapped his hands, calling everyone to order, and then they were underway.

Josiah did not look at Eva while the dance was proceeding; it would not be fair to his dancers. The moment that the last strains of music were dying away, however, he automatically looked to her. She wore such an expression that he had only seen once before, when he was in Italy and tourists were craning their necks up to stare in awe at the frescoes and painted ceilings. Her friend pulled at her arm, trying to get her attention, but Eva’s eyes were riveted to Josiah’s.

Without quite understanding how, Josiah found himself standing before the pair. He blinked, finally tearing his eyes away from Eva’s, his feet having simply carried him forward.

“Mr. Galpin,” Eva said, her voice low and smooth. “I cannot thank you enough for inviting me to see this.”

“It was my pleasure, Lady Eva,” Josiah replied, bowing at the waist. Silence fell again, in which they were content to stare at each other again.

It was impossible to determine how long they might have remained in that attitude if not for the timely intervention of the other young lady. She pointedly cleared her throat, and Josiah thought he caught her gently digging an elbow into Eva’s side. Eva looked about, blinking at her friend, and flushing a little.

“Oh! Kitty, darling, might I present Mr. Galpin? He is the dancing master who has been taking such care to make sure I am fit for the ballroom. Mr. Galpin, this is Miss Kitty Johnson, my dearest friend in all the world.”

“Miss Johnson, a pleasure,” Josiah said, politely taking the fingers that Kitty offered and bowing over them. “So,” he said, looking between the two, “what did you think of our rehearsal?”

“It was…nice? Very nice,” Kitty amended, seeing Josiah’s face fall a little. Expectantly, he turned to Eva.

“It made me wish that I was a scholar,” Eva said thoughtfully, her gaze lingering on the stage.

“A scholar? Why?” Josiah asked, intrigued.

Lady Eva offered up a shrug, tilting her head and smiling a little. “If I knew more languages, I might have a word for how it made me feel.”

Oh, now that’s hardly fair , Josiah’s brain griped; his heart, however, was busy being thoroughly charmed. “You’ve seen us perform before,” he reminded her.

“Yes, and as I recall, I was quite moved by that as well,” Eva retorted. “It’s different, seeing it from this angle. It’s like…it’s like it is somehow more real , more accessible. Seeing it from out there,” she said, gesturing to the theatre seats, “it’s something that we mere mortals could never aspire to. Back here, it’s… I could walk out onto the stage, it’s so close.”

Josiah looked out at the stage, and then back to Lady Eva. “Do you want to?”

“What?” her eyes darted back and forth, from the stage, to Josiah, and then to Kitty. “Just walk out there onto the stage?”

“Why not?” Josiah asked.

“I’m not sure that I should,” Eva said, waffling. She bit her lip, her eyes glued to the stage. “I’m not sure that it’s proper—I’m not exactly a performer.”

“Your mother would have a conniption,” Kitty murmured under her breath.

“Undoubtedly,” Josiah agreed.

Eva had not taken her eyes off of the stage, still awash with lights. It was as if she were hearing a distant song that only she could make out. Josiah recognised this well: He had seen many fall under the siren spell of the stage, had fallen under it himself.

The inner workings of her mind were clearly manifested in the tension in her person. Josiah watched, unable to take a breath, as Eva slowly stepped forward.

It was like she had taken a plunge into a pool of cold water—the first step was the hardest, and once begun, she continued onward with quicker and quicker steps. Eva crossed the invisible threshold from backstage to onstage proper, her back straight and her head up. Josiah was not aware that he was grinning until he caught Beatrice glaring at him from across the stage in the opposite wings. Her eyes shifted from him to the perceived interloper, and then she rolled them.

He shook it off, and meandered up to Eva, pausing to see if Miss Johnson would follow. She seemed caught, unsure if she should continue or be left alone among who-knows-what-sort of characters. She bounced a little, her curls springing about her face, and then followed along reluctantly several steps behind Josiah.

Satisfied, Josiah turned back to Eva. She was standing still in that particular way of hers, but Josiah did not get the sense that she was frozen, as many are when confronted with the stage. When he reached her, and came to stand next to her, he saw that his assumption was correct: her face was thoughtful, introspective even. She saw him beside her, and she briefly caught his eye, a cheeky smile blooming on her face.

“Does the world look different from up here?” he asked, returning her grin.

“It does,” she replied, her face reflective again. “So many seats, so many people from so many different walks of life…” She trailed off, then turned to face Josiah, smiling radiantly again, her dark eyes sparkling in the stage lights. “And they all come to see one thing: You.” Josiah made a non-committal shrug, not wishing to appear conceited.

Eva, however, was having none of it. “Oh please,” she said, playfully rolling her eyes. “Do not pretend like you are so modest. You know that you are a great artist, else you wouldn’t take such care to maintain your artistic integrity.”

Josiah couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “I suppose that is true, Lady Eva.”

Still with an amused expression, Eva turned and walked a few steps along the front of the stage, her eyes dancing over the auditorium seats. Josiah could feel rather than see someone coming to stand at his elbow. He turned, expecting to see Miss Johnson, and was instead confronted with Beatrice’s face, tightened with hauteur .

“Really, Josiah,” she chided, “what are you playing at here? Why let this amateur pretend she could trod the boards with us ?” She put an emphasis on the last word, giving it a cutting edge that clearly separated herself and Josiah into one class, Eva in another.

“Beatrice,” he sighed, under his breath.

She looked at him, her eyes hardening. She had just taken a breath, mouth open and clearly ready to argue the point further, when a bright voice piped up from behind them.

“Why, if it isn’t Miss Heart!”

Both Beatrice and Josiah turned around, and there was Miss Johnson, her face all adorable smiles and rosy cheeks. It would have been easy for anyone to miss the hard glint to her eye.

“Beatrice, this is Miss Kitty Johnson,” Josiah hurried to intervene. “She is here with Lady Eva.”

“Of course she is,” Beatrice said, a smile curling her mouth at the corners.

“I’ve been enjoying myself immensely,” Miss Johnson said, all girlish gushing and batting eyelashes. “It’s been very…educational,” she said with a pointed glance up and down the length of Beatrice, who had haphazardly thrown on a dressing gown over her scandalous ensemble.

“I’m so glad to hear it,” Beatrice said, matching her tone. “So many young girls come to the theatre for an education before they are married. The navvies here aren’t too particular in their tastes, you see.”

Miss Johnson accepted the barb, and seemed at the point of retorting when her eyes flicked over Josiah’s shoulder. He turned and saw Lady Eva standing behind him, and was simultaneously grateful for the interruption and terrified.

“Have you completed your tour of the stage, then?” he asked good-naturedly, as if discussing a trip around the Continent. He turned slightly to the side, and with a sweep of his arm said, “Lady Eva Stanton, may I present Miss Beatrice Heart?”

Though Josiah had presented Beatrice to Eva, as was only right and proper for their respective social standing, it was Eva who spoke first. “I am so pleased to have the chance to meet you,” she said with complete sincerity. “You are positively mesmerising on the stage.”

Beatrice looked from Eva to Josiah, as if trying to determine if she were in jest. “It’s the product of years of hard work and dedication to my craft,” she answered eventually.

Eva smiled, not a demure little grin, but with the full force of her beauty. Beatrice blinked and seemed a little stunned to be on the receiving end. “I can believe that,” she said. “Your dedication shows.”

“Yes, I take my craft quite seriously,” Beatrice quipped. “I should hate for anyone to think me one of those pretty little playthings that float about the theatre. There are certainly enough broken hearts every Season when the rich get tired of toying with us.” Without a by-your-leave, Beatrice gave a significant look to Josiah, and glided away. As if unable to resist when eyes were on her, or perhaps simply because she wished to remind everyone of her prodigious ability, Beatrice gave a neat little twirl on one of her feet, whipping around.

Josiah turned to Eva, fully prepared to make apologies. He instead found her face thoughtful again, watching Beatrice depart. Miss Johnson, too, seemed a little concerned, and hovered nearby Eva’s shoulder, watching her face.

“Are you alright?” Josiah asked softly, not wishing to upset her.

“She used her whole foot when turning,” Eva said slowly. “She didn’t merely balance on her toes, her entire foot moved.” She looked up to Josiah, as if seeking confirmation, but also a little accusatory. “You did not tell me to do that.”

Josiah could only stare down at her. There were not many people who could simply take Beatrice’s prickly nature in such stride. Eva was taken with her ability, unbothered by the rest of it; she found the beauty in the moment, regardless of everything else. Unbidden, he felt something shift within him, and a soft, slow smile dawned on his face as he gazed into her dark, dark eyes.