The ballet was almost at an end. JulietteMirabelle would soon twirl, collapse and die as the story came toan end. At the moment she was being lifted, her graceful armsspread, toes pointed and neck lengthened as she looked above. Hehad never seen a more beautiful or graceful sight in his life.
Would she meet him tonight? He took greatcare in finding the perfect arrangement of the freshest and mostbeautiful flowers and paid a lad to have them delivered to thetheatre prior to the performance. It was larger than any of theothers before. All he could do was hope that she remained tonightand he didn’t find another note thanking him for the bouquet.
Why didn’t she ever remain to meet him? Didshe have a protector like so many female performers? Or worse, wasshe married?
Acker still recalled the first time he hadseen her dance. He had been dragged to the ballet by a friend nowliving in Milan. He’d attended the ballet once when he was youngerand quickly learned that it wasn’t something he enjoyed. That allchanged the moment Juliette entered, dancing the lead role. Ackerhadn’t been able to take his eyes from her and had returned to thetheatre every night he could. After a week he sent her the firstbouquet.
Acker leaned forward, the end was near. Hergraceful movements slowed and arms folded across her breast as shefell, caught in the arms of her onstage lover, and died. The roarof the audience’s approval reminded Acker he was not alone in thetheatre. So caught up in watching the young woman dance he hadforgotten there were four companions with him. He came to his feetas Juliette entered to take her bow, a delicate smile on her lipsand then she was gone again. Acker’s companions stirred and movedtoward the entrance leading to the corridor.
“That was marvelous,” Signori Bellibiproclaimed. He was the man who had originally brought Acker toMilan. Bellibi worked within the government of the Kingdom ofItaly, but he and others secretly worked with the English to find away to bring an end to Napoleon and break his hold on theregion.
Acker had been gone from home these past sixmonths visiting with those who supported England in their waragainst Napoleon and should have been done with this business andonto Prussia but he could not leave Milan without first meetingJuliette. The Home Office had not questioned his delay but theysoon would and Acker couldn’t exactly report that he remainedbecause of a ballerina and not for the war effort.
“Thank you for the invitation.”
“It was my pleasure,” Acker responded. He wasquickly running out of people to invite to the ballet. He couldn’tvery well attend on his own. How would that look to others?
His companions filed out into the corridoralready crowded with patrons leaving the theatre.
“Will you be joining us for a late supper?”Bellibi questioned.
Acker shook his head. “No. You go on.”
The man simply nodded and escorted his wifetoward the stairs that would take them to the entrance. Soon theywere swallowed by the crowd and Acker made his way to the back ofthe theatre.
His heartbeat increased with each step. Hadshe waited for him or would he find another note? Was he a fool inpursuing a dancer when he had important work to do?
The back of the theatre was crowded withperformers and patrons, much like it was each night he venturedhere. The door leading to Juliette’s dressing room was on the farside and closed. For a moment he was hopeful. All other times ithad been open, but empty. Had he caught her in time? Had she notleft?
He paused before the scarred wood entrance,took a deep breath and knocked. It opened a moment later by a youngwoman with auburn hair pulled into a knot behind her head. Perhapsshe was the ballerina’s maid.
“May I help you?”
“Might Juliette Mirabelle still be here?”
The young woman tilted her head and studiedhim. “Whom shall I say is inquiring?”
Acker cleared this throat. “ViscountAcker.”
She nodded, stepped back and fully opened thedoor. Across the room stood Juliette, no longer in her costume butdressed in a simple gown of pale blue. His breath ceased when helooked into her clear emerald eyes. Speech failed him at thatmoment.
He was more handsome up close, wereJuliette’s first thoughts. He had the bluest eyes she had ever seenand strong features that spoke of his aristocratic bearing. Oh, whyhad she agreed to meet this gentleman? He was a handsome strangerand what type of women met with gentlemen in their dressingroom?
She knew which type did and would he nowautomatically think she was like so many of the dancers within thetheatre, who took lovers and became mistresses to rich gentlemen?Why hadn’t she thought this through?
But she had, and this wasn’t the first time agentleman had wished to meet her but none had been as persistent asLord Acker. How could she not meet a gentleman who had sent herhalf a dozen different bouquets?
Why didn’t he say anything? Why did he juststand there and stare at her?
“The bouquet is lovely. Thank you.”
He blinked and a smile formed on his sensuallips. “Not nearly as beautiful as you.”
Warmth spread through Juliette’s chest andheat stole into her cheeks.
“We should go,” Genviève whispered.
Juliette nodded. She had now met Lord Ackerand thanked him for the flowers. It was best not to encouragefurther attention.
“Wait.” He stepped forward. “Would you careto dine with me this evening?”
Did she dare? Maman didn’t have to learn. Sheand her sisters already planned to join the others for a latesupper following the performance.
Genviève shook her head. Of course her sisterwouldn’t want her to go, but Juliette wanted to spend time withsomeone who didn’t work at the theatre. “Only if my sister,Genviève, accompanies me.”
Acker nodded. “Of course.”
“I really don’t think—”
“—I see no harm,” Juliette cut Genviève off.Besides, when would she ever get the opportunity to dine with agentleman?
“I’ll have my carriage brought around.”
“No,” Genviève answered quickly and Julietteagreed. She did not know him and it was not wise to get into aclosed conveyance with a stranger to be carted off somewhere not oftheir choosing.
His eyebrows rose and he
