Rafael was willing to wait until the sun set for her to answer his question. He had an inkling deep down, in his very core, that her reason for going to her father’s house had something to do with her reason for crying on the pavement near the bakery.
Her trim shoulders squared, and she jutted out her chin. ‘I won’t be returning to London.’
His stomach sank. There was an opera house near the bakery. She must have been hired to perform with a travelling troupe and she was simply saddened by the prospect of saying goodbye to her family. ‘Surely you’ll be back at some point.’
‘No, I won’t,’ she said, then, as quickly as before, she took off walking and asked, ‘How long do squirrels live?’
Well, that was just as well. Rafael had been foolish to think about asking her to join him at his sister’s tomorrow night. He’d just thought if his family met her…
That too was a foolish thought—his family didn’t have any control of societal rules. He quickly caught up with her. ‘Why? Are you afraid of squirrels?’
‘No. I like them. I’m assuming you rescued Tumbler when you were young.’
‘No, it was last year.’
‘Oh. What about Orphie?’ she asked.
‘He’s a red stag that lives at our country estate. Orphie is short for orphan. I found him lying next to his dead mother when he was a newborn. Took him home, and he still lives in the barn with the other animals. That was six years ago.’ He answered her question mechanically. He felt a bit like an orphan himself right now. It was a stupid comparison, but nothing else quite captured the intense loss Rafael felt, knowing he might never see her again.
‘Have you rescued animals your entire life?’
‘Yes, when we were young, my sister refused to enter my bedroom for any reason, afraid that whatever I’d snuck in the house might be scurrying about.’
‘And now? Does she like Pal or The General, or Tumbler or Orphie?’
‘Not so you’d notice. Gladys claims Tumbler and Orphie are wild animals, which they are. I didn’t try to domesticate them; they chose to stay close once they were old enough to be on their own. Pal is a wolfhound, a big one and friendly, but he was a clumsy puppy and, even though he’s almost three now, he’s still not overly graceful. Gladys holds that against him.’ He shrugged, knowing not everyone liked animals, nor did animals like everyone. ‘The General hisses at her and glares at her until she leaves.’ All this talk was a tempting distraction, but Rafael couldn’t get past the idea of never seeing her again. ‘Surely the troupe will return to London at some point.’
‘What troupe?’ she asked.
‘The one you’re singing with.’
She started walking even faster. ‘I’m not singing with a troupe.’
The spark of joy inside him didn’t last long. ‘Oh, were you hired by an opera house in Paris, or Vienna, or Milan?’
‘No.’
Stunned, he asked, ‘Then why are you going home, to your father’s house?’
For all her sweetness, softness, and smiles, the glare she settled on him was that of a woman who wanted to knock a man on his backside and stomp on his chest.
‘Because,’ she said menacingly, ‘I refused to do what Mr Clement Barr suggested and have been banned from auditioning anywhere.’
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