Page 43 of The Searching Songbird

Stepping out into the late afternoon sun, which was fast approaching the horizon, she found herself once again being met with disappointment.

He wasn't there.

Oookay. Maybe he came out a side entrance. She looked left and then right, debating over which side to take. With a shrug, she moved to the right, stealing around the corner of the large building and hurrying down the narrow alleyway that ran beside it. She came to a stop as she spied a well-dressed man with broad shoulders and light brown hair leaning against the wall of the theater and smoking a cheroot. He turned his head at the sound of her approach, and her breath caught as she realized who he was.

“You!”

She spoke without thinking, and immediately chided herself for the slip. Surprise had made her sloppy, and that wasn't something she could afford to be in this man's presence. Fia's tormentor.

He took a slow pull from his cheroot as he eyed her with bored indifference.

“Me?”

“You... you surprised me. I was looking for a friend of mine.” She swallowed the ball of terror that threatened to choke her at the idea of being exposed before this man. “Perhaps you've seen him?”

He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze traveling the length of her person in a coolly assessing manner. And then he did something she wouldn't have expected. He smiled. Not the sadistic grin of the creature in her vision, but the affable grin of a charming rogue. It appeared sincere.

“Afraid not. It's just me out here.” He winked. “And now you, of course.”

She shivered, taking a step backward. “Oh, well... I... I suppose I should get back inside then.” She looked longingly over her shoulder at the entrance to the alleyway.

“His name,” Suzu hissed inside her head. “You cannot leave without his name.”

She forced herself to meet the man's friendly gaze. “Are you one of the judges?”

He seemed to consider her question as he ground the butt of his cheroot into the wall before flicking it carelessly onto the ground. Pushing off the wall, he clasped his hands behind his back as he turned to face her.

Do not run. Do. Not. Run.

“More like a connoisseur of music. I try to watch as many auditions as I can, or at least as many as my schedule will allow.”

She tilted her head to the side as she studied him, her need to flee momentarily forgotten. “Wouldn't it be more enjoyable to simply watch the actual performance? Not to mention, less time consuming.”

“Ah, but only the best are chosen to perform. The judges are strict and require perfection from those they choose. Everyone, however, is capable of producing beautiful music, so long as their heart is in it.”

It was a lovely sentiment, and yet –

“If that's how you feel, then why aren't you inside? You've missed the last two acts, at least.”

He pulled at the collar of his shirt and let out a guilty laugh. “Yes, well, you've got me there.” Making a show of looking around for anyone else who might be within hearing, he leaned in and whispered, “I could not bear to sit through Eudora Pennyworth's performance for a fifh time. I'm sorry, but even I have my limits.” He frowned. “But I thought she was slated to go last. Was there another entry?”

“There was.”

His eyes widened, and he stepped back as he once again ran his gaze over her, lingering this time on her mouth. She squirmed under his inspection, fighting back the urge to turn tail and run.

“Of course. How could I have missed the song there?” he mused, his gaze still fixated on her lips.

“What is with you people and musical lips?” She attempted a teasing smile.

He chuckled, seemingly oblivious to the strain there. “I see you've met Celia.”

“Bubbly woman with bright pink hair?”

“That's the one. Don't tell me she forgot to introduce herself when you met. She really has a terrible habit of that.”

“Speaking of which...” She gave him a pointed look.

“Right. Me.” He bent low, presenting her with a perfect bow. “Miles Tennyson, the baron of Dunlop, at your service.”